Underneath The Sycamore
The glacial mist shrouding the eve
Cradles the redolence of your reveries
Prematurely ripen from a hungry vie
To keep time at bay and life a chance
In your statuesque grace blooms
A dream in the day, a comfort to lay
And we were so close in a distant way
But for the jeopardy of truth and cliché
This transatlanticism is for your decay
Every now and then as time tramples
When cicatrix sighs and sunlight halts
I get so alone, flat and hollow,
Despite of the truancies, I'm still amidst
The enthralls of the moon's harlequinade
And its servile and vivid orbs at cay
I would be lured to saunter back
Our winding roads and jagged paths
And halt beneath the sycamore
Where we met clad with liminalities
And donned by the amities
That afflicts in a trifling volley,
Then I have neglected to see
The malignance of your entanglement
In the cobwebbed branches
With all the sojourned predicaments
You were a craftsman unconsciously
Look at what you have had on me
In its shade, there is company
Distracting me from the mendacity
Of the moon's phosphorescent bloom
And sating my voraciousness eagerly
With double-edged memories
In the lovely silver boughs are the blossoms
Photographs painted in crimson and purple hues
With farcical smiles verily enraptured
Now pierce in an esoteric puncture
With its thorns concealed in comely sedation—
Cancer strikes like a serpent without a hiss
A blitzkrieg of another death's kiss;
And the epistles and riddling tales
Passed onto each other's escritoire
Linger here in the leaves rustling
With the secrets buried in the scripts
And the traces of evasive glacial rivulets
But then you have found the clandestine door
Clasped inside the hallowed burl
And key slumbering on the floor
And now you are one of them:
The susurrations underneath the sycamore
Here haunts the phantoms
Of silent weeps and mourns
For quibbling truths and so as for
The very core of apathetic walls
Inside, a ball where we only know
Where I believe, only we knew
Underneath the sycamore
A soul meets a soul, lost
But already on its way
Perhaps, towards oblivion
A demise for my heart of carrion
And yonder below croons a song
A pulsation, a compulsion
An eccentric taste for a reaction
Clinging onto earth with the roots
Of the young yet steadfast sycamore
Engraved with the phantasmagorias
And prayers never to be spoke of
To finally meet the consummate defeat
And bleed for the coup de grace
But in this beguilement I lose
Ad I am now again afloat
Underneath our sycamore.
poem by Norman Santos
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Related quotes
My Sycamore Tree
A rainbow appeared across the sky
Like a promise
A covenant
Shinning on high
I waited and watched Making sure I could see
Climbing the branches of my sycamore tree
A star shone bright
Symbolizing
Signifying
The importance that night
Men followed it
As I watched happily
Sitting atop my sycamore tree
A white dove descended from the clouds
With a voice
And a light
Amazing the crowds
Water and word
I watched and thought of what it could be
From the tallest branch of my sycamore tree
From a tree like mine a cross was formed
Spitting
Beating
Some laughed while others mourned
I knew there was something I could do
But I was afraid of what would happen to me
So I stayed put, hanging on tight to my sycamore tree
Three days later a butterfly appeared
Alive
And vibrant
Then to my tree it finally neared
It seemed as though it was speaking to me
Speaking of life eternally
So I followed the butterfly as far as I could see
Then I quickly climbed down the branches
Joyully leaving my sycamore tree
poem by Emily Caudill
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Sycamore Leaves
Cant stop thinking bout it
It fills me with unease
Out there by the roadside somethings buried
Under sycamore leaves
Wet grounds, late september
The foliage of the trees
I came upon this feeling that someones lying
Covered by sycamore leaves
And I could never make it
And I could never see
And I could never break out
And shake its grip on me
song performed by by A-Ha
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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From a Window
Up here, with June, the sycamore throws
Across the window a whispering screen;
I shall miss the sycamore more I suppose,
Than anything else on this earth that is out in green.
But I mean to go through the door without fear,
Not caring much what happens here
When I’m away: --
How green the screen is across the panes
Or who goes laughing along the lanes
With my old lover all the summer day.
poem by Charlotte Mary Mew
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Sycamore
Standing in the heat to sit,
Like...
A Sycamore.
I like it that you take risks,
And not shut close your eyes.
I like it.
Oh yes,
I like it.
I will do the driving,
And with me you'll like the ride.
And...
You will like it.
Yes I know you will like it.
The road ahead may get too bumpy,
And tough.
But,
I will not be giving up...
Or slowing when its rough.
'Cause life to me is second nature,
And adore I do...
A Sycamore.
With figs so sweet.
Yet not so common to ignore.
Oh yes I like it,
A fig sweet I can eat.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Sycamore Trees....
i don't imagine sycamore trees
we don't have them
i can't imagine the sea-breeze bringing to me
the perfume of your hair
or remembering once that there was spring and that you were with me
not that i do not like spring
but because there is no spring here
and one last thing,
i can't remember you because you are no longer here with me
honestly what for? do i take another dagger and stab my heart again with
it?
how foolish can i be- that is what my friends are telling me.
i don't remember sycamore trees, and i have no plans remembering them.
we don't have it here.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Dream A Little Dream Of Me
Stars shining bright above you
Night breezes seem to whisper I love you
Birds singin in the sycamore trees
Dream a little dream of me
Say nighty-night and kiss me
Just hold me tight and tell me youll miss me
While Im alone and blue as can be
Dream a little dream of me
Stars fading but I linger on dear
Still craving your kiss
Im longin to linger till dawn dear
Just saying this
Sweet dreams till sunbeams find you
Sweet dreams that leave all worries behind you
But in your dreams whatever they be
Dream a little dream of me
(instrumental break)
Stars shining up above you
Night breezes seem to whisper I love you
Birds singin in the sycamore trees
Dream a little dream of me
Sweet dreams till sunbeams find you
Sweet dreams that leave all worries behind you
But in your dreams whatever they be
Dream a little dream of me
Yes, dream a little dream of me
song performed by by Louis Armstrong
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Village Street
In these rapid, restless shadows,
Once I walked at eventide,
When a gentle, silent maiden,
Walked in beauty at my side.
She alone there walked beside me
All in beauty, like a bride.
Pallidly the moon was shining
On the dewy meadows nigh;
On the silvery, silent rivers,
On the mountains far and high,--
On the ocean's star-lit waters,
Where the winds a-weary die.
Slowly, silently we wandered
From the open cottage door,
Underneath the elm's long branches
To the pavement bending o'er;
Underneath the mossy willow
And the dying sycamore.
With the myriad stars in beauty
All bedight, the heavens were seen,
Radiant hopes were bright around me,
Like the light of stars serene;
Like the mellow midnight splendor
Of the Night's irradiate queen.
Audibly the elm-leaves whispered
Peaceful, pleasant melodies,
Like the distant murmured music
Of unquiet, lovely seas;
While the winds were hushed in slumber
In the fragrant flowers and trees.
Wondrous and unwonted beauty
Still adorning all did seem,
While I told my love in fables
'Neath the willows by the stream;
Would the heart have kept unspoken
Love that was its rarest dream!
Instantly away we wandered
In the shadowy twilight tide,
She, the silent, scornful maiden,
Walking calmly at my side,
With a step serene and stately,
All in beauty, all in pride.
Vacantly I walked beside her.
On the earth mine eyes were cast;
Swift and keen there came unto me
Bitter memories of the past--
On me, like the rain in Autumn
On the dead leaves, cold and fast.
Underneath the elms we parted,
By the lowly cottage door;
One brief word alone was uttered--
Never on our lips before;
And away I walked forlornly,
Broken-hearted evermore.
Slowly, silently I loitered,
Homeward, in the night, alone;
Sudden anguish bound my spirit,
That my youth had never known;
Wild unrest, like that which cometh
When the Night's first dream hath flown.
Now, to me the elm-leaves whisper
Mad, discordant melodies,
And keen melodies like shadows
Haunt the moaning willow trees,
And the sycamores with laughter
Mock me in the nightly breeze.
Sad and pale the Autumn moonlight
Through the sighing foliage streams;
And each morning, midnight shadow,
Shadow of my sorrow seems;
Strive, O heart, forget thine idol!
And, O soul, forget thy dreams!
poem by Edgar Allan Poe
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Zachaeus Upon The Sycamore Tree
Many of us have heard of Christ;
Some of us know Jesus so well;
Christ is always passing by nigh;
Should we not have a better glimpse?
By heart, we yearn to see Jesus;
We are all sinners in more ways;
Our ears await His loving call;
By spirit, we stay short for Christ!
God sees each human heart in depth;
He knows if it has love or hate;
He gives us chances for more faith;
Sometimes, He comes to us to speak.
A Sycamore helps us see Christ;
There are such trees by every lane;
But we must climb to see Christ well;
The Lord knows secrets of each heart!
Many in sins galore do lie;
Many do have a contrite heart;
For repentance to turn complete,
Penance must be in matching ways!
Why put off seeing Jesus Christ?
The Son of God came for sinners!
Just ask and He will surely come;
Search and you will find Him surely.
Christ longs to dine in each one's home;
He forgives sins by Cross' ease;
He changes lives once and for all;
Must not we reconcile with God?
'Tis easy climbing sycamores!
'Tis easy finding one such tree;
It helps to see Jesus clearly!
Why should we hesitate to climb?
Ignore the world that talks like fools!
Each soul must gain God's redemption;
Let's plead to God for forgiveness;
Let's fill heart with God's saving grace!
There is a price for redemption;
Jesus paid our ransom ahead;
We must walk in His righteous path;
We must enter the narrow gate!
We live in different life's set-ups!
God has a purpose for each one;
We ought to learn the will of God;
True faith alone can lead to Christ!
Christ lives in every one of us;
But we must live in Christ all life;
He sees us well and all the time;
The veil of sin hinders our sight!
There is no time to waste on earth;
We must all be reborn in Christ;
Our faith in God must not waver;
We must be steadfast in Christ Lord.
Let's keep looking for Jesus Lord!
Let's find a sycamore near-by!
Let's climb the tree to see Christ well;
He wants to dine in our dear homes!
Commune with God for He made us;
Alone on earth, we cannot live;
Surrender heart to Jesus Christ;
Heaven is earned right here on earth!
Jesus knows each soul's true state;
Jesus seeks souls with boundless love;
Why live in sins those lead to hell?
Only the fool says, ‘There's no God! '
We must live life much Christ-centered;
Faith must not swerve or keep changing;
Conversion is by grace of God;
Redemption is by love of God.
Ignore the world of vanity;
Be blind to world of heinous sins;
Be deaf to sinful talks of men;
Save your soul and your kith and kin's!
Zachaeus climbed a sycamore,
To catch a better glimpse of Christ;
And when he made up for his sins,
Redemption came to his household!
The lure of world need not deter;
There's lucre in heaven better;
To see God soul must pure remain;
When God calls, we must heed at once!
God speaks to us by Bible's words;
The verses tell us how to live;
God's purpose for our lives on earth
Must be realized by strong faith.
We are all children of same God;
We need to preserve our souls pure;
Our earthly stay is not for long;
Eternity with God is prime!
COPYRIGHT BY DR JOHN CELES 20-11-12
poem by John Celes
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A Daisy Through Concrete
Wake up the dying,
Dont wake up the dead
Change what your sayin,
Dont change what youve said
Now that its time that
I got out of bed
When Ill walk myself
Down sycamore street
The sun beats down
No shoes on my feet
And I stumble on
A daisy through concrete
Pink and brown babies
In pink stroller cars,
Know that its good
They dont care where they are
They know that home
Doesnt feel very far
When Ill walk myself
Down sycamore street
The sun beats down
No shoes on my feet
And I stumble on
A daisy through concrete
Airplane is flyin up in the sky
Makin a pattern
With the white lines
Looks like a heart
Or maybe a pie
song performed by by Eels
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The World
Love built a stately house, where Fortune came,
And spinning fancies, she was heard to say
That her fine cobwebs did support the frame,
Whereas they were supported by the same;
But Wisdom quickly swept them all away.
The Pleasure came, who, liking not the fashion,
Began to make balconies, terraces,
Till she had weakened all by alteration;
But reverend laws, and many a proclomation
Reforméd all at length with menaces.
Then entered Sin, and with that sycamore
Whose leaves first sheltered man from drought and dew,
Working and winding slily evermore,
The inward walls and summers cleft and tore;
But Grace shored these, and cut that as it grew.
Then Sin combined with death in a firm band,
To raze the building to the very floor;
Which they effected,--none could them withstand;
But Love and Grace took Glory by the hand,
And built a braver palace than before.
poem by George Herbert
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Japanese-American Farmhouse, California, 1942
Everything has been taken that anyone
thought worth taking. The stairs are tilted,
scattered with sycamore leaves curled
like ammonites in inland rock.
Wood shows through the paint on the frame
and the door is open--an empty room,
sunlight on the floor. All that is left
on the porch is the hollow cylinder
of an Albert's Quick Oats cardboard box
and a sewing machine. Its extraterrestrial
head is bowed, its scrolled neck
glistens. I was born, that day, near there,
in wartime, of ignorant people.
poem by Sharon Olds
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Tennessee Moon
Written by: neil diamond & dennis morgan
Hollywood dont do what it once could do
I used to wake up and write me a song before noon
So I packed my dusty bags one night
Grabbed an old guitar and I caught a red eye(? ) flight
In search of a dream underneath the tennessee moon
I fell in love with to old hank williams tune
Makes me wonder, is it the same moon hank played under
Touched down and she stole my heart right away
Began to think for the first time I might stay
And when I heard that lonesome whistle moan
Knew Id finally found my way back home
In search of a dream underneath the tennessee moon
I fell in love with to old hank williams tune
And I wonder, is it the same moon hank stood under
When he sang about jambalaya and being lonesome enough to cry
And I can hear the echos in the sounds of his guitar
And his words still paint a picture in my heart
Yeah, in search of a dream underneath the tennessee moon
I fell in love with to old hank williams tune
I was in search of a dream underneath the tennessee moon
Yes, I fell in love with to old hank williams tune
song performed by by Neil Diamond
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Dream A Little Dream Of Me
Stars shining bright above you.
Night breezes seem to whisper, 'I love you,'
Birds singing in the sycamore tree.
Dream a little dream of me.
Say nighty-night and kiss me.
Just hold me tight and tell me you'll miss me.
While I'm alone and blue as can be,
Dream a little dream of me.
Stars fading, but I linger on, dear,
Still craving your kiss.
I'm longing to linger 'till dawn, dear,
Just saying this:
Sweet dreams 'till sunbeams find you,
Sweet dreams that leave all worries behind you.
But in your dreams, whatever they be.
Dream a little dream of me.
song performed by by Ella Fitzgerald
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Show
Moon crowded by clouds
Sycamore fingers spread
blackened veins to hide
cold night...one to fur the face
lamp behind the veil
who can tell
what you want to show
poem by Boink Boink
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Silent As Snow Falling To The Ground
Silent as snow falling to the ground
The speckled air abound
As whiteness cover all
First snow of the season
Tracks of white tail rabbits,
Squirrel in the sycamore
Shadow of the chain linked fence
Quietness sits by the door.
A poet’s pen to paper
To comprehend
What is piling deep in the cold
He mark this singular passing
This silent thing of its own doing
The wind blows a snow song
Without words or instruments
A song for the eyes and what pretends
To be the soul
And I twirl around and flair my arms
To sing along.
poem by David E. Patton
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The Day-Dream
THE thronged boughs of the shadowy sycamore
Still bear young leaflets half the summer through;
From when the robin 'gainst the unhidden blue
Perched dark, till now, deep in the leafy core,
The embowered throstle's urgent wood-notes soar
Through summer silence. Still the leaves come new;
Yet never rosy-sheathed as those which drew
Their spiral tongues from spring-buds heretofore.
Within the branching shade of Reverie
Dreams even may spring till autumn; yet none be
Like woman's budding day-dream spirit-fann'd.
Lo! tow'rd deep skies, not deeper than her look,
She dreams; till now on her forgotten book
Drops the forgotten blossom from her hand.
poem by Dante Gabriel Rossetti
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hot summer night -
on a sycamore tree
the crescendo of cicadas
haiku by Marijo Pinero (2008)
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Restive
that early morning
when the sun just comes up
from the mountain side
rising to
the cone top
a yellow butterfly as tiny
as my nail
flutters over a red rose petal
holding still
on a dew
slowing down
this small world where i live
becomes a home
my nerves rearrange their postures
resolving
an entanglement
now restive like a goat under
a sycamore tree
chewing grass
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Dream A Little Dream Of Me
Stars shining bright above you,
Night breezes seem to whisper, I love you,
Birds singing in the sycamore tree,
Dream a little dream of me.
Just say goodnight and kiss me,
Oh, hold me tight and tell me you miss me;
While Im alone and blue as can be,
Dream a little dream of me.
Stars fading, but I linger on, dear,
Still craving your kiss;
Im longing to linger till dawn, my dear,
Just saying this:
Sweet dreams till sunbeams find you,
Sweet dreams that leave all worries behind you,
But in your dreams whatever they be,
Dream a little dream of me.
Say nightie-night and kiss me,
Oh, hold me tight and tell me you miss me;
While Im alone and blue as can be,
Dream a little dream of me.
Dream a little dream of you and me.
song performed by by Chicago
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Obstinacy and Malcontent
Livid and delusional,
Haplessly obdurate,
Like these smoke and mirrors
Distorting the visage of hope
And faith in prayers sent forth
Whilst the coruscations of the past
Inveigles the doom in these eyes
And I exhumed myself alone
In declining my liberation
This obstinacy and malcontent
Deluges with the brine of blood
From angry vessels rooted
And gnarled in the dark corners
Of the cobwebbed heart
Because in this pawned life
Where satisfaction is a drug
To forget the querulous vertex
(To be complete not only in the dark)
The coup-de-grace was a dejection
An unspoken unfaithfulness
That devoured the flame
And the verdigris of the soul
Disemboguing everything
Until the only resolve for pain
Is the sedation in a greater pain;
A wrath that defends
This obstinacy and malcontent
That was once acknowledged
And fortified with sympathy
The resentment of the light
Dislimned the mirror in these eyes
And exhausted the smoky screen
To unfurl that the dark
Had always been underneath
These placidly asleep canopies
Now how do I rectify my truth?
Like these smoke and mirrors
I hid inside myself, unscathed
Groveling for a final clout
So I can shatter into dusts
And finally disappear
In my absolution.
poem by Norman Santos
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