Branches and Roots
When this bird is flying
let it fly.
Let that singer flit where she will.
Sweet chirper.
Chirp and sing and fly.
There's time enough for the tree's branches
and the tree's roots.
poem by Meli Secret
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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An uncreative medicine
no hope
no friend
no family
no home
no nativity
no nationality
no fame
no name
no future
no points
no market
no identity
no possessions still a tree without roots
no relationship still a tree without roots
no anarchism still a tree without roots
no hiearchy still a tree without roots
no country still a tree without roots
no colours still a tree without roots
no degrees still a tree without roots
no certificates
no imaginations
no dream
no poetry
no fiction
no story
no news
no media
no happiness still a tree without roots
no genre still a tree without roots
no labels still a tree without roots
no names still a tree without roots
THE FOURTH EYE
of
A post-conceptual poet.
Ode to the bird in the cypress tree
Ode to the bird in the cypress tree
~
I wish to be like the bird in the cypress tree
shaded from the heat of the midday sun
yet still free to ride upon the ocean breeze
whenever it chooses to blow from time to time
I wish to be like the bird in the cypress tree
and chirp my own little song aloud to the world
or to fly amongst the clouds so high above
and look down to watch the world below
I wish to be like the bird in the cypress tree
for all my wishes and day bought dreams
I am here and I am still me writing a poem
about that lucky bird perched in the cypress tree
poem by Matthew Holloway
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The Strange Tree
There’s a strange tree which lives near me,
And this strange tree could not agree,
That if this tree could ever see,
A stranger tree it sure would be.
There’s a strange tree which topples me,
For this strange tree was tall, you see,
And then this tree would use its knee,
To break in three, the clouds who flee.
There’s a strange tree which lives near me,
The northern tree, its branches free,
The southern tree, no limb to see,
For this strange tree, was strange, you see?
There’s a strange tree which I can see,
And this strange tree (against my plea)
Was sent to sea, its roots now free,
And now this tree… A ship is he.
End.
If Only I Were a Bird
If only I were a bird,
my days would be forever happy
Chirp from tree to tree
And live worry-free.
If only I were a bird,
I would fly from
Cyprus to Chile
and have a tour on earth.
If only I were a bird,
I would dropp fruit seeds
Hoping a fruit tree will grow
For other birds to take shade.
If only I were a bird
I won't be
worrying about work
Bills, car, or clothes
poem by Champs Ulysses Cabinatan
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The Tree of Waking Life
The tree that says with elation,
'I think I'll fly instead.
Although there's but water in my roots
to last me through the day,
today will be the finest day
I've ever seen or heard of.'
Is the tree I sing my ode to,
The Tree of Waking Life.
The tree upon whose branches
I am so tempted to rest,
but it laughs and calls me foolish,
and gives but one suggestion.
'Men are not meant to be reflections,
but forms of their very own.
Not shadows of their fathers,
but explorers of this stone.'
The tree that will die
from its curious internal lust,
and will curl a fulfilled smile
across its bark encrusted lips,
and sleep as a child with steady mind,
The Tree of Waking Life.
The tree that says with elation,
'I think I'll fly instead.
there is but water in my roots
to last me through the day,
but today will be the finest day
for I will fly today.'
Is the tree I sing my ode to,
The Tree of Waking Life.
The tree upon whose branches
I am so tempted to rest,
but it laughs and calls me foolish,
and gives but one suggestion.
'Men are not meant to be reflections,
but forms of their very own.
Not shadows of their fathers,
but explorers of this stone.'
And as the sun begins to set
and its leaves begin to wilt
when its too weak to control its flight
it will sleep the sleep of a pleasant child
the Tree of Waking Life.
Little Bird
Little Bird up in the tree
won’t you sing a song for me,
something sweet and romantic say
before you wake up and fly away.
Little bird don’t be shy,
please sing me a song of love
before you fly way up above.
Little bird some joy bring
before you take to the wing.
Little bird up in the tree
please sing a song for me.
27 September 2008
poem by David Harris
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Leaves Turning Grey
Like a carcass lays, an ancient tree,
he tried to pray, through celestial seas,
but his spirit flew just like a bee.
Everyday he gazed at crying clouds,
the wind through his branches was so loud.
He looked for listening ears
as he stood in a sea of tears.
O tree, do you still wade?
Why have you lost your will to change?
O tree, leaves turning grey,
your roots have lost their range.
But how can one ask for help,
when you're not helping yourself?
And so this tree founded on sand,
with the wind tumbled to land.
He's an arboreal fool,
in a world that pulls
his heart and blood apart.
O tree, you've lost your blood,
your dead branches lay in the mud.
O tree, leaves turning grey,
your roots in such ground won't stay.
poem by Soren Valentine
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Sonnet – Don’t Be
Don't be the fallen leaves, so young and green;
Don't be the buds that never can flower;
Don't be the twigs that always remain lean;
Don't be the flow'rs that dropp with each shower.
Don't be the branches growing very long;
Don't be the tree that never blooms at all;
Don’t be the nests that disallow Bird-song;
Don't be the fruits that hit the Earth by Fall.
Don't be the trunk hollowed by Birds, white-Ants;
Don't be the crown that can't get Sun or Rain;
Don't be the tree that grows not straight but slants;
Don't be the roots that prop the tree in vain.
Don't be the tree that grows on marshy-land;
Just be a tree secure in Maker's Hand.
poem by John Celes
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The Tree
My life is a tree,
Yoke-fellow of the earth;
Pledged,
By roots too deep for remembrance,
To stand hard against the storm,
To fill by Place.
(But high in the branches of my green tree there is a wild
bird singing:
Wind-free are the wings of my bird: she hath built no
mortal nest.)
poem by Karle Wilson Baker
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True Harmony
I sit in the tree
the breeze makes the branches sway
birds sing lovely songs
The air smells like spring
cherries from the tree taste sweet
The bark feels rough
Clouds dance in the air
The world is very peaceful
Way up in the tree
Being in the sky
puts me in touch with nature
it's true harmony
I long for the days
up high among the branches
Where earth took over
poem by Tori Beals
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To A Silvereye
I see you almost every day you fly from tree to tree
And I envy you your happiness for you are wholly free
You tiny insect eating bird in olive fawn and gray
And I feel glad so very glad to see you every day.
No boss to order you around to tell you what to do
Wish you were me dear tiny bird and wish that I were you
For you have freedom in your wings the freedom of the sky
And I envy you your happiness dear tiny silvereye.
On garden tree and green hedgerow close to the homes of men
I see you almost every day you and your tiny kin
From garden tree to garden tree and to and fro you wing
And midst the leaves the sunlit leaves you preen and chirp and sing.
I see you almost every day from tree to tree you fly
And I envy you your happiness the freedom of the sky
And I've a wish a secret wish when my turn come to die
That I will come to life again a tiny silvereye.
poem by Francis Duggan
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A Poem Of Syntax
A poet and his bird, his dog, his cat and his tree
A poet and the bird in the tree
A poet and his dog in the tree
A poet and his dog in the tree and the wind and the cloud
The bird in the tree, the dog in the tree, the cat in the tree,
The bird in the tree, the dog on the tree, the cat under the tree,
The bird on the tree, the bird in a tree, a bird in a tree, a bird in the tree,
And the wind and the cloud and the poet and his dog and his cat and the tree
The dog chases the cat the cat chases the bird
And they all arrive in that tree
Where the poet is sitting under that tree
The poet takes the dog and the cat was envious
And the bird looks at them in silence
The silence looks at the poet in the eye
Of the cat and the bird flies away
The poet and the dog is the poem of friendship
The cat and the dog is the poem of the endless natural quarrels
And the bird that flies away against the cat and the dog and the poet and the tree
And flies against the wind that the bird is now fighting
And the clouds that seem so blue and blue
The bird that actually flies away
Is actually me
I was not the poet with the dog
I am not the tree I am not the wind I am not the cloud I am not the poet there who had a dog as friend and I was not the quarrelsome thing from the blue and out of the blue
I am the bird with wings and I always fly away to places
Against the wind to places where I can be as always be the bird with wings in silence
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Poison Tree
the mom and dad
found a poison tree
did not realise
the land they are tilling
until a poison tree
sprouts in their midst
the tree from the seeds
of their sweats
the tree sheds leaves
of disappointments
flying away with their
most secret wishes, hope
and fun of life
the sweats are now tears
drenched with deep seated regrets
they never realised they would be
the farmers of the poison tree
but now they are not able
to do away with for whatever
reason, whatever price
the tree poisons their systems
the roots the tree has imbibed
its nutrients all these years
the tree clings over them
a parasite strangling
its parent tree slowly,
surely, despicably
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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On Tree
Just a plain old TREE. I Ignored the weather
satisfied with me. I Looked at TREE.
What if anything do I knoe about TREE.
It used to be a thing made out of wood, always tall,
with branches near the ground. Roots fingering the ground.
Life comes up somehow to TREE. Water cascades down to ground, seeping slowly into ROOT. ROOT transmogrifies
the water into inner sanctum stuff known only to the Lord.
People still tell me, Tree just cannot live.
There is no real feeling in TREE.
There is knowledge in TREE or it would be a blade of grass.
People say the life is in the seed or sapiling.
I think the knowledge is in the MAN, the ONE who can.
He Makes all the TREE begin, upon a distant planet,
Creates the thing again, in the courtyard of his KING.
And every meadow of his earth.
The ONE who gave me birthe the second time around.
The ONE who gave me TREE.
And Time to write this down.
poem by Charles Hice
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The Divine Tree
In my mind I see perched upon a rocky hill
Standing firm a silhouetted tree so strong and still
Its roots extend well below the turf
Reaching deep to the centre of the earth
Its sprawling branches stretch in a canopy above
High into the sky to heaven where there’s much love
This tree is magical and a symbol for us to see
As it bears fruit, good things given by divinity
Of love compassion, peace and self awareness
To visualise the tree is a privilege I confess
But all can see if they search enough
Even though the mist at times make viability tough
The wind of your thought in its branches whisper through
And brings forth its fruit for those that stay true
And if sometimes when you try to climb to its branches on high
When life seems touch and you really have to try
The branch it may break and then you may fall
But the tree will still stand it stays there for us all
And then you must try once again you see
Each time you get further higher in the great tree
And each time you make a higher ascent
You get higher into its canopy to Heaven sent
Willow Tree
Let me be your weeping willow tree
Surround you with my long limbs
My dear, let me grow in the shade
In the sands by the bank of your river
Let I drink from your streams
The cool breeze fill my leaves
We will sing together
Water over the pebbles
And Ill be by your side forever
I wish I was a weeping willow tree
I wish I was a weeping willow tree
I wish I was a weeping willow tree
Sweet river caress how softly
Stir my searching roots
Shading the sun in the summers heat
Let I cool you
We have been dancing so long
In the winters freeze and the summers drought
We survive
We belong
Let us sing together
Water over the pebbles
And Ill be by your side forever
I wish I was your weeping willow tree
I wish I was a weeping willow tree
I wish I was a weeping willow tree
Let us sing together
Water over the pebbles
And Ill be by your side forever
Let us sing together
Water over the pebbles
And Ill be by your side forever
We can sing together
Water over the pebbles
And Ill be by your side forever
Let me be
Your willow tree
Your willow tree
song performed by by G. Love & Special Sauce
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Fruited Roots
Naturally my gifts come blessed.
To pick from an assortment,
Of interests I possess.
It seems I can sit and choose,
Which direction to take.
And from new adventures I taste,
Yet another fresh experience.
Fruited roots has this tree,
That has branches of such diversity.
And empowered by birth,
To quench my thirst...
As if deserving.
Fruited roots has this tree,
That has branches of such diversity.
And each leaf is related.
As a family that breathes...
To see a reaching for the stars!
And I am just one seeking to shine.
I am one of many determined to climb.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Samuel Gardner
I who kept the greenhouse,
Lover of trees and flowers,
Oft in life saw this umbrageous elm,
Measuring its generous branches with my eye,
And listened to its rejoicing leaves
Lovingly patting each other
With sweet aeolian whispers.
And well they might:
For the roots had grown so wide and deep
That the soil of the hill could not withhold
Aught of its virtue, enriched by rain,
And warmed by the sun;
But yielded it all to the thrifty roots,
Through which it was drawn and whirled to the trunk,
And thence to the branches, and into the leaves,
Wherefrom the breeze took life and sang.
Now I, an under-tenant of the earth, can see
That the branches of a tree
Spread no wider than its roots.
And how shall the soul of a man
Be larger than the life he has lived?
poem by Edgar Lee Masters
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Little Blue Bird And The Old Man Under The Tree
and the old man with a sigh murmurs upon himself
'little bird, little bird,
how sweet is your song
how i wish i can listen
some more time'
and the little blue bird high on the tree stops to sing
and looks at the old man with pity
tweeting
'my dear old man
would you like to be a little blue bird some other time? '
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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No Tree Can Stand Tall Without Roots Spread!
Every seed sends roots first,
Finding for soil and ground
where it can stand firm and tall,
stand firm and tall if roots go
deep,
Spread wide to find The sap! single cell that carry life,
Give life to cells and tissues,
Shoot, barks, branches and
leaves,
feed the leaves exposing leaves
to light, Visible tree stands on exposed
roots, not roots visible, Man made boundaries, fence and
compound,
Can't prevent or limit roots or
branches,
Sometimes absorbing soil here,
Branch will extent to neighbouring house,
How one can limit the nature,
or confine growing tree to
narrow circle drawn by man?
So is every life on Earth!
Mankind is like forest of different trees,
Yet all roots of autotrophic trees
deep in the soil,
Only parasitic have those roots,
pierce other tree's heart! Dive deep into yourself,
O man! Can you survive without
Your roots?
know how you are here,
Is it the mortal parent brought
you here, Or your fate,
Only be grateful to their love and
care forever!
poem by Ramdas Bhandarkar
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