Where Trees Are, I Am!
Just trees will grow in shapes that please,
My shapes do grow like limbs;
Eyes see, ears hear - abilities!
But trees possess just whims.
Where trees are, I am! So you are
The one with limbs, the one
Who swears with words always bizarre,
Phrases of prediction.
The plants called trees are super-wise,
The stalks are trunks profound,
Their limbs and roots also advise,
The trees are aboveground.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Related quotes
A Journey Back To Ourselves
as i stare at the
rain
i remember
trees
transparent and
cold
trees without
leaves
i imagine
twigs
or roots or
trunks
they are never
there
no matter how
trees are tears
without leaves
without roots
with so much
salt in each
and then you
touch the waves
of the imaginary
sea and then
your journey back
to you begins
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Among the Trees
I wonder lost among the trees
Looking for the one my heart calls for
I wonder lost among the trees
I see your light amongst the dark
I wonder lost among the trees
Your light is brighter then the rest
I wonder lost among the trees
Your light is out of my reach
I wonder lost among the trees
Your light comes closer
I wonder lost among the trees
Your light is bright like an angel from the sky
I wonder lost among the trees
Your light fades away and leaves me alone
I wonder lost among the trees
Without a hand to guide the way
I wonder lost among the trees
Looking for my guiding light
I wonder lost among the trees
I wonder lost, alone
I wonder afraid of the world
Around me I look for the one
I wonder lost among the trees
I wonder lost and alone forever...................................
poem by kelly Martini
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Her Old Argument
we meet as old trees with roots deep on the ground.
twigs are trunks and leaves if they fall do not come back to hang back.
do not look for meanings, they are all there already
when we meet as old trees
when we agree that we meet as old trees so there will be no
compromise that you change that i change
that we become like each other in color and perceptions
what you see is what you get, that is your oldest premise
and i jump into conclusions: i am free, you are freedom.
somewhere, i also cannot bend as you keep that bent posture
when we meet as trees old enough to understand the spread of
our respective roots.
'you cannot change me, you can only love me' your ending statement.
' i give up the search for the idea, i stay put' my conclusion.
The pavement is so dry. There is no rain. I hear nothing.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Whispers of trees
Trees whisper of the coming winter
Leaves mutter among themselves
Seasons silently steal upon us…
As Falling streams from rocky shelves
Soft sibilant sighs, indistinct…incoherent
Nature’s voices, spoken through the dells
It’s the trees whisper… of the coming winter
The voices of Trolls, faeries and elves
Branches freeing…captive leaves fleeing
Limbs bleakly waving…in poignant farewell
Listen closely! …to the trees soft whisper
Of places of mystery…where legends dwell
Trees whisper the coming winter
Voices elusive…secretive as well
Hear the murmur of the wooded heart…
muted tumble of an acorn shell
Trees whisper…coming winter…
Tales that only trees can tell
poem by David Whalen
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The Trees Of Life
The trees command authority when called upon,
Young men or women proclaim facts more than brawn.
Branches of knowledge come from people called trees,
Young trees are like orchards, they are not absurdities.
The abilities we define as pleasant come from corrections,
Young learning has solved our problems and aberrations.
May our problems exert funerals no longer,
The trees of life exert the influence of an actor.
poem by Naveed Akram
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My beautiful flowering trees
My beautiful flowering trees
One day I shall buy some land
Plant countless seeds
And watch them grow
Into beautiful flowering trees
A cool breeze
Will bring me
Sweet fragrances
From a thousand flowering trees
I shall listen
To the songs
From birds perched
In the tall flowering trees
I shall play
With my children and theirs
In the vast expanse of green
Amongst beautiful flowering trees
One day I shall rest
Passing into oblivion
My ashes scattered
Amidst the beautiful flowering trees
by Ash (Rishi's Dad)
poem by Rishi Menon
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Save Trees Keep Sacred Forests
spare sun tortured ground save trees keep sacred
forests mysteries which umbrella moisture ground
with limbs diverse tall oak trees many leaves blessing
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Watching For Shapes
Written by ricky & marty wilde
Influences now are things that are all around me
Changing shape as they move around in an open mind
Coloured in by the images I find
Im just watching for shapes that grow
Im just watching for shapes that grow
(watching for shapes that grow)
Like electric sparks they danced by an open mirror
Closing doors never looking round but its not goodbye
Theyll be there till Im taken out I know
Im just watching for shapes that grow
Im just watching for shapes that grow
(watching for shapes that grow)
In my mind theres a space thats full of painted pictures
Things I did that I went through, but cant recall
Now and then theres a flash of the unknown
Im just watching for shapes that grow
Im just watching for shapes that grow
(watching for shapes that grow)
(watching for shapes that grow)
(watching for shapes that grow)
song performed by by Kim Wilde
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ingavar
O, the trees grow straight and the trees grow tall,
And the trees grow all around;
And the long limbs sprout the trunks about,
Where the Davlo owl is found.
And the Davlo bird is most absurd
In the early days of June;
For he sings this song the whole day long,
To a strange, fantastic tune.
'O, ink, ink, ink! I sit and think;
I brood on the Wildwood Tree;
But, near or far, on Ingavar,
No ink, no ink I see.
And late or soon the swift cartoon
Must soar to the Utmost Star.
O, ink, ink, ink! I swoon! I sink!
O, inkless, Ingavar!'
O, the trees grow long, and the trees grow strong,
And the tress grow good and green,
And the gloomy shades steal thro' the glades
Where the Halgi Tit is seen.
And the Halgi Tit he loves to sit
On the frond of a swaying fern,
And croon, and croon, to a low, loose tune
This nervous, nude Nocturn.
'Chow-white, chow-white! All night, all night,
While the moon peeps thro' the leaves,
And the sad wind soughs thro' inlaced boughs,
Where the shadows creep like thieves.
I cry, and yearn for the Nude Nocturn!
O, I seek her near and far!
Chow-white, chow-white! I croon all night,
Thro' the glades of Ingavar.'
O, the trees grow pale, and tall trees quail,
And the sacred trees whisper soft.
And the startled bush it murmurs 'Hush!'
When the Denawk swoops aloft.
And, as he swoops, he shrieks and whoops
In a ruthless, Rhythmic way;
For twixt the trees and the sobbing breeze
The Denawk seeks his prey.
'Ho, rhyme, rhyme, rhyme! All fat and prime!
I live by rhyme alone!
In bush and town I hunt it down,
And tear it flesh from bone.
With a purpose grim for the synonym
I forage near and far;
And I rend my prey in a rhythmic way
On the gums of Ingavar.'
O, yearning trees! O, burning trees
O, trees that bend and sway!
The good brown earth that gave you birth
Is very damp to-day.
In mire and mud we slid we've slud;
Our boots are filled with slime
Farewell ye gums till summer comes
Farewell till Summertime.
The Davlo hoots, the Halgi toots,
The Denawk swoops no more
Alone to yearn, the Nude Nocturn
Adorns your leafy floor.
But Trees, O, trees, what ecstacies
Thrill thro' you, root and spar,
When the Lord High Pot comes up to squat
In the Glades of Ingavar,
Afar,
Green glades of Ingavar.
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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The symbiosis
Your man and my woman
Stand there as two trees above,
We both, as their roots below,
Feed each other to nourish
Our trees above to flourish.
Unaware, they, too, aren’t in anguish.
Is not it fit for us to cherish
In that because of you, me and
Because of me, you, grow rich
In our luster to entice our partners?
One can fence the shoots;
Can one, the roots?
One can guard the bodies.
Can one, the hearts?
29.06.1999 Pala29.06.99
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Small Trees
I am little like the small trees,
These are at least bigger than flowering plants,
The richness of theirs is far superior to us.
Since they are richer and we are taller,
The magnificent colours shine as they do.
Greenness is our nature as trees,
Whilst they are always colourful
More than us.
The tree of bigness is a lethal organ,
One we sit by and watch growing older.
Then the small trees subjugate the other trees
Far smaller, but we are supposed to respect
The bigger trees, they are certainly not the biggest.
The best of us are longer in health,
Whilst I am little for I am a small tree.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Leaves
The theme of this poem is leaves;
Beautiful lateral structures
that dress the deciduous trees;
ephemerals one can’t ignore.
We first set eyes on them as green,
Protuberates on limbs in spring;
Next we see them as indigenes-
Transpirational living things
with various shapes and sizes.
I myself favor the maples
Their many metamorphoses:
various colors one beholds
in late summer and early fall
their greatest splendor above all.
poem by Albert Ahearn
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I Hear
When the trees sing what matters is knowing.
That the trees are singing at all.
their gentle music ever out flowing
for those attuned to hear its call.
Although all children hear and sing along,
most adults have forgotten how
to listen to the trees and hear their song
They’re far too busy to allow
themselves to be distracted by the trees
Their minds are fixed on other things
and do not miss the melodies
The gentle breeze amongst the branches sings
It makes no difference at all
The trees still sing as they have always done
in summer, spring winter and fall.
I listen for the music of the trees
those sad but sometimes joyous harmonies.
10-Dec-08
http; // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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The Trees Are Blabbermouths (Fun Poem 113)
A song on a south wind
whispers stories to the trees
of love affairs illicit
that no one should know,
but the trees are blabbermouths
telling anyone who’ll listen
all the secret that they know.
If you pass a tree one day
when its leaves are rustling
just listen and you will hear
the secrets it has been told
of love affairs illicit
that no one should know
because trees are blabbermouths.
They shout their words across the breeze
so everyone can hear.
If you have a secret
and want it to keep it that,
make sure the trees don’t hear
or that secret won’t be a secret
because the trees are blabbermouths.
14 March 2011
poem by David Harris
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Song of the woods
For a time the birds
and the trees
and animals dwelt in me,
but then came man.
Axes and saws
started to chop and bite
and as trees fell,
there wasn’t a place
safe for animals to be.
Time swept past
and man’s machines
started to carve
right trough trees.
Trees fell faster
than any could grow
and the climate was altered
by man and his machines.
Lost was the air
that had risen from me
and the forest rain dwindled
and a scorching sun
started to batter me.
The world of old is lost
and most of the trees are gone
and clouds of pollution
blankets the world.
poem by Gert Strydom
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There Is a Solemn Wind Tonight
There is a solemn wind to-night
That sings of solemn rain;
The trees that have been quiet so long
Flutter and start again.
The slender trees, the heavy trees,
The fruit trees laden and proud,
Lift up their branches to the wind
That cries to them so loud.
The little bushes and the plants
Bow to the solemn sound,
And every tiniest blade of grass
Shakes on the quiet ground.
poem by Katherine Mansfield
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Trees of Darkness
The trees of darkness are tall, wise and livid with rage,
A cheese slice is covering our eyes then the tree-cage.
Black trees are not yellow, red and orange
But the slice of fun moved like a lunge.
I plunge into leaves of Autumn, faults of time,
Carrying my food with my mouth and crime.
Trees grow forward in time, and we shall be divine
In different places, diverse views are taken to align.
Dark places will spoil the view and place,
But why do some people define this space?
poem by Naveed Akram
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A Forest
Come closer and see
See into the trees
Find the girl
If you can
Come closer and see
See into the dark
Just follow your eyes
Just follow your eyes
I hear her voice
Calling my name
The sound is deep
In the dark
I hear her voice
And start to run
Into the trees
Into the trees
Into the trees
Suddenly i stop
But i know it's too late
I'm lost in a forest
All alone
The girl was never there
It's always the same
I'm running towards nothing
Again and again and again and again
song performed by by Cure
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Plant More Trees
Plant more trees
As it looks green
And save the homes of the animals please.
Plant more trees
As it looks green
To keep the humans safe
From pollution and disease.
Plant more trees
As it looks green
To keep the cities beautiful and clean.
And throw the garbage into a dustbin.
Stop cutting trees
And plant more trees
For a long live of you and me!
poem by Srijita Das
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Growth And Trees
Growth
Trees are conceived just as humans are
from seeds the striplings rise
Yet rooted to one place
They grow
No choice where their future lies
Subject to nature’s way’s and whim’s
bearing the brunt of chance
No option, no choice
No vote, no voice
they perform in the wind, their arboreal dance
And they grow
Like young children they blossom with grace and wonder
With litheness, with vibrance
Innocence thereunder
filled with awe and wonder
They grow, oh how they grow!
Tall and stronger, each day brings them closer
To the sky and the clouds
To the smell of ambrosia
like their wee kinfolk, in fields of timothy and clover
Children and trees know nothing of guile
Lies, treachery, deceit
The common, the elite
And yet all the while
They grow
With the approach of Fall winds, the trees sway and quiver
Immodestly dropping more leaves with each shiver and
a blanket of yellow, a patchwork of gold
Shielding the earth from winter’s coming cold
Settles silently,
Yet relentlessly
Shyly, yet bold
Through the winds of winter
Through the ice and the snow
They exist, they persist
They resist, they insist
That they grow
They grow
They awaken like children to springs fresh breath
Limbs green, supple and new
Buds swelling, birds dwelling, life is refreshed
Mother natures, spring time brew
Invigorating
Intoxicating and
Exhilarating too
Children and trees rush toward summer with glee and
Are dressed in new raiment to suit
The trees clad in green, the child’s green knees
New seeds in the ground taking root
Squirrels scratch the bark
The sparrow, the lark
They grow
The young, in nests, creation reborn
New life, new presence on earth
From womb, from eggs, new life is formed
The world as always gives birth
As it was
As it is
As it always will be
They will never cease
To grow.
poem by David Whalen
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