Red Flower
you are a red flower
on red leaves
on red stalks
on red branches
on a red soil
fronting the
red mountains
and the red wind
you doubt
whether you have red eyes
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Related quotes
The Leaves
There are leaves on my trees
that don't want to go.
They cling to their branches
and the wind does blow.
They defy the wind
as if to say
'It will take more than you
to take me away.'
We are in December
and still they're here.
Are they boldly waiting
to see the New Year?
If Christmas comes
with ice and snow,
maybe then
my leaves will go.
And I'll look once more
and I will know
that the wind did win
for the leaves did go.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Ice Cut In The Air
Ice cut in the air
Where dried out stalks
Stick through
Boone Pond.
Cattail’s long, green,
Knife-edge leaves
Bends three feet
With wind.
Shaken pads fold
Dried rust color
Locust leaves like bells.
Frog jump
As I approach.
Hand size turtles
Warm themselves
At bank’s end.
Shells of mallard eggs
Grinned into the soil.
poem by David E. Patton
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Fruit of Soil! ! !
Luck is the same
for Man and flower
I think they have
The same birth star.
Flower and man
Man and flower
Start their lives
From lap of soil
Pass through the stages
Of their lives,
Get their nourishment
From the kind soil;
So soil is the mother
Of man and flower
Their start and end
Both are same
Their only difference is
in their names.
But when Time comes
They get withered.
And again lie back
In the soft and kind
Lap of soil…
.
poem by Shahzia Batool
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Life for Death
A newly born flower
Slowly blowing her horn
Fresh grasses all over
Smiling on its thorns
Breeze dancing
Moist climbing
Trunks twisting
Leaves flying
The majestic flower
Now walking through mountains
Of darkest trunks whispering
Of bloody leaves haunting
Passing through the pavement
Blear eyes on strength
Largest trees on coven
Fangs of leaves on vent
Her breath on every fight
Burning with her own light
Searching the truth inclined
The strength behind enemy lines
But they have covered the night
They have killed the knight
Bless the flower tonight
She had made her last sacrifice
Back To An Old Place
it is summer
scorching summer
season creeping,
grasses are wilting
trees are shedding of
their last leaves,
what i see are bones
of trees,
skeletons of
branches,
the dry wind keeps
blowing the leaves
away,
what i have is this
bald surrounding
emptied of their
essence
beyond me are
brown mountains
vultures are
in the skies
eying for
death as prey
i sit upon a rock
the only rock
left here
i have no cover on
my head
i am half naked
i have no one to talk
to,
they have left this
arid place
a long time ago
i am back
i am telling the
sand soil,
i have something
to write and
tell the world
about it
it is summer
in this vast desert
a long time ago
this was ours
and the trees are green
grasses verdant
butterflies flutter
and innocently
land on our
hands.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Road On The Other Side
first there is the glass jalousie window
misty, that is what they are,
no one opens it
but soon i will to see the bushes
and then beyond this is the road
a cemented road constructed by
a Korean Company
the name is Hanjen,
and then i hear two things
the thumps of a buffalo's feet
there are four
because it is tied to a big tree
and then the sounds of leaves falling
and this is a feat
of awareness
hearing the sound of the wind
interacting with the veins of the leaves
the stalks vibrating a sound
to the leaves
on the ground
the songs of the ants
love calls
of the robin on the twig of the gemelina tree
its roots slowly crawling
against the light
seeking refuge in the hollowness of the soil
hearing still the silence of the worms
asleep and full.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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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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November Cotton Flower
Boll-weevil's coming, and the winter's cold,
Made cotton-stalks look rusty, seasons old,
And cotton, scarce as any southern snow,
Was vanishing; the branch, so pinched and slow,
Failed in its function as the autumn rake;
Drouth fighting soil had caused the soil to take
All water from the streams; dead birds were found
In wells a hundred feet below the ground--
Such was the season when the flower bloomed.
Old folks were startled, and it soon assumed
Significance. Superstition saw
Something it had never seen before:
Brown eyes that loved without a trace of fear,
Beauty so sudden for that time of year.
poem by Jean Toomer
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By My Window....
dawn
darkness finally receding
morning
light spreads
the leaves of trees
begin to appear
the mountains
show up in magnificence
little black birds
hover on the tree fronting my window
dews giving up
mist gone.
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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Don’t be an uprooted Tree
Seed is sown and the embryo is formed
Legitimate or not, radicle develops into root
Root penetrates into the surface of the soil
Absorbs water and food, turns seed into plant
Inherits the culture of the earth beneath.
It’s in root science that, it moves in
Right direction to fetch the exact need.
Stem gives the support and balance to stand
Branches form the vitality of the plant
Leaves prepare the food to survive
Bearing even odds the plant grows into tree.
As long as deep roots embraces mother earth
The tree shows confidence and attracts.
Location and depth are the might of the tree
Flower, fruit, shade, firm soil, H2O and CO2
Vary from tree to tree, but all owe to root
Never there is an existence beyond this means.
Still human trees surrender under the pressures
Try to get uprooted from the surface and means
Hoping for better flower, fruit, soil and breeze
Truth is, an uprooted tree, a timber, put to ablaze.
-vidi-
22-04-08
poem by Vidi Writes
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Saviour
Saviour
How did I ever come this far without u, baby?
What was I thinkin, what was I tryin 2 be?
Never did u ever give me reason 2 doubt u, baby
U are my destiny and this I truly see
I can see were like 2 petals from the same flower, baby
Were like 2 branches from the same tree
Whenever I look in your eyes, I can see a paradise
Ure my saviour, ure all I ever need (saviour)
I used 2 say, no one lover could have me, no one lover
That was before my eyes had seen the light
2 make love with another, uh uh, I couldnt do it, no way (couldnt do it)
Ure my saviour (saviour), ure the only one that does it right
Cant u see were like 2 petals from the same flower, baby?
Were like 2 branches from the same tree
Whenever I look in your eyes, I can see a paradise
Ure my saviour, ure all I ever need
What would I be without your love around me?
(oh, what would I be, oh, without your love? )
What would I see, u constantly astound me
(oh baby, u know u constantly astound me)
Saviour {repeated}
Yeah!
Well, oh!
(saviour)
Oh, how did I (how did I) come this far
Without u, baby? (without u, baby) I dont know
What was I thinkin (what was I thinkin)
What was I tryin 2 be? (I dont know)
But what I do know is that...
(cant u see were like) were like 2 petals from the same flower, baby
Were like 2 branches from the same tree
(2 drops of water from the same sea)
Whenever I look in your eyes, I can see a paradise
Ure my saviour, ure all i...
Ure my saviour, ure all I ever...
Ure my saviour, ure all I ever need (saviour)
Saviour, ure all I ever need
Saviour, u (I do)
U are my flower, baby (flower)
Ooh, every, every hour (hour)
Oh, yes u are
Wont u come and justa... (wont u come and justa...)
Rain, I said rain!
(wont u come and justa...)
Rain, rain, rain!
(...rain some of your sweet love down on me? )
Down on me! {x2}
Saviour! saviour! saviour!
Yeah! {repeated}
Down on me!
song performed by by Prince
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Or Existence
look at you
you take pride of myriad leaves
of branching twigs
of a sturdy trunk
you are saying you are
well rooted
and strong and no
wind is good enough
to uproot you
look at me
i have no roots
i am bald for i have not
a single leaf
from my imaginary
branches
from my twigs which you say
do not exist at all
you laugh and take pride
with what you are
and what you own andwhat you keep
i am invisible and i have no word
that i own
i am not even a wind
since i do not touch your leaf
and cannot let you feel
i do not doubt that it is my mere silence
that horrifies you
and i thank myself
for just being this way
i have no name
i have no self
i merely pass by
and i do not come
back
and so beyond myself and all these
you are nothing too
as i perceived myself to be
not a wind not a sound
nothing about roots
or existence.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Mystic Journey: Earth 2
spring is pure potential. there's no
calculating how tall a tree will be,
how far its branches will stretch, how
each fork will unfold, how many
healthy leaves we will see. but
by summer we can measure the result.
pure potential has become actual.
contours of the trunk well-defined,
strength of the root system is visible.
through time the roots are intertwined
with other systems, and from then on
there's no dividing it from other trees.
the forest is a single, inseparable web.
but autumn will split two families.
despite the intermingling of their sap
one will become a shrivelled skeleton
of brittle branches, a stack of sticks.
for it, winter attacks in battalion.
overnight, all's white. ice chokes lungs.
sapless leaves are torn, one-by-one, or in
bunches from bared branches. twisting
in the gravity of an indifferent wind
to breathless unconscious snow they fall.
deciduous flee frost, their proud showing
hiding for a season beneath pitiless snow.
but for evergreens, winter is only a minor
vexation. they take no precautions at all.
the frozen gales of november hold no power.
one white february we buried gordon bentley*
six feet deep. in soil undisturbed for decades,
if not centuries, his solid oak coffin rests.
ever silent (except when shock of wind pulses,
rushes, crushes in waves) tall evergreen trees
guard two graves on a golden hill where pasts
began. in the beginning he hugged that ground.
at his end the same soil compasses him round.
* my father
poem by Doug Bentley
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In Love with the Wind
The wind blows on
to every horizon
passing through the earth
where it could be heard
Here comes a flower
in its flourishing
the spirit of the wind
soaking in every inch of its living
Shaking and trembling
the flower nearly stops breathing
Screaming and shouting
the flower rebels from its rooting
Struggling against its origin
the flower dreams to fly away
to be free,
gone with the wind
But the wind is gone,
leaving the flower alone,
scattered like a fragile bone
until its days are gone
poem by Anggie Servian
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When A Sunflower Dies
It's sad to watch sunflowers die
That once were strong and bright
Their thick stalks drawing food from soil
To reach amazing height
Their faces once were giant stars
Their hearts an intense brown
Their sunny petals always smiled
And formed a golden crown
When stalks are cut and brought indoors
To parlors decked with grace
They bring its owners fleeting joy
With fresh and glowing face
Nobody cares when in a week
Life ebbs from each dry stem
Each petal shriveling and spent
To certain death condemned
It's sad to watch sunflowers die
That once were strong and bright
Their thick stalks drawing food from soil
To reach amazing height.
poem by Liilia Talts Morrison
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The Flower of Leaves
The Flower of Leaves, does not speak, nor sing!
She breathes intensly and plays on sweet strings
The Flower of Leaves, in spring, does not bloom,
She hangs in the heat and weeps low in gloom
The Flower of Leaves, shrouds mis'ry and pain,
Yet exudes in song warm swelling disdain
The Flower of Leaves, shades but one pale green,
Yet blossoms 'neath moonlight in silv'ry gleam
She relieves, and like Great Nature, serene,
In stormless gardens passes through unseen
Sublime as rainfall, sincere as the sea,
O Heaven, such life that blooms before me!
Who only knows that which my heart believes,
In such mystique of The Flower of Leaves!
poem by Iam notThou
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Stalk
some get penalized
for stalks,
stalkers not
allowed here
and you are
warned.
what are stalks
anyway?
why should
we dislike
stalkers?
come to think
of it. Hold the stalk
and let your
fingers run
towards the
flower.
Feel the petals
and smell
the scent.
now you are
a stalker.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Make-believe
Make-believe
The olive tree had three trunks Siamese triplets?
It was old and gnarled, some of its branches had
no leaves and it was lost in an abstract, cosmic
dream and not aware of its surround; I touched
the perennial and thus gave it soul.
A mild breeze blew, a fluttering of leaves and
the three could see the blue sky where a silvery
bird flew northward glinting in the sun. It could
also see how cute other trees looked, when aware
how ugly it was dawn dew dripped from leaves.
Wished it could be a cosmic dream again and
not know of time and place. But look, its tears
had fertilised the ground and around its trunk
flowers so rare they had still to get a Latin name,
sprung up from red/rusty soil.
They are my creation I have created beauty out
of my distress, the plant whispered as in awe.
My children, must shade them from the hot sun
and bitter winter rain. Vanity be gone, and see,
on its naked branches green leaves grew,
poem by Oskar Hansen
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Sound Of The Beating Heart!
we spend lifetimes searching
for the sound the leaf makes
turning from green to orange to red...
we spend our loving burning branches
in the shadow of the tree.
we spend our faith trying to capture,
and hold the wind for a moment...
never knowing that what we search for
is only our own being!
we are the leaf, the branches, the fire,
the tree, and the wind...
the sound, the loving, and the faith.
and yet we are nothing.
we are but a moment,
familiar taste and scent.
we are eternity,
the breath of an unknown god.
the sun has set,
stillness comes walking
across the mountains.
i listen for the voices
that have no face.
dead poets sit by a vagrant fire,
immigrants, refugees...
spinning old tales.
my friends smell like trees,
and leaves turned brown.
we cross bridges unseen,
with no destination.
and the only sound
that even god can hear...
the sound of the beating heart!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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