The Tree Is Shedding Off Its Leaves
do not be surprised
to see this tree shedding off leaves
it is the season
for it to become a skeleton
it is like
that
giving off everything
what it gained
from the soil which gives it life
the tree is returning
heaps and heaps of leaves
for the wind
to blow and scatter to the earth
until what is left
is the bareness of it all
the one where we are now
a destiny into
emptiness
the glory of nothing
the splendor of being nothing at all
welcome! welcome!
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Time and Leaves and Heaps
time runs
leaves fall
the ground is filled with heaps and heaps of them
the world too
is thickened by the leaves of time
heaps and heaps of what man once was
we bury all of them
time
leaves
heaps of leaves
so many times
we fall too like leaves
the world is thick of those like us
fair enough.
fair enough.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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How The Leaves Are Blown By The Wind
did i not tell you that these leaves come from the trees?
no dispute about it
about them, they grow out from there, those twigs
of the trees of life,
they get their glow, their sheen, though they have given more honor
to the sun
rather than the roots and the phloem
the season for them to mature and fall has come
and they all wait for the wind, the great strong wind to blow them all away
to their respective destinies
some find their way to the river
some to the thick heap of other leaves destined to rot
and only if you hear them
they say they come from nowhere
not from the tree of life
not from me
the leaves, my poems, the wind my way of throwing,
the tree, myself, my roots my mind, my phloem my blood
i made them all, but now, they are on their own
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Determined Indifference
i like indifference
as a weapon, whether
happy
whatever carrot or stick
policy is used by the enemy
indifference sits on a bench
watches the big waves of the sea
unaffected
the wind wanders
the thousand eyes of the sand
look for a possible hint
on what is up to
they cannot find a thing
except the stare to nowhere
the calmness
amidst the sorrowful
leaves
heaps and heaps
on the ground
of emptiness
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Banyan Tree
Banyan tree, banyan tree
that century old banyan tree
standing grandeurly for us to see
banyan tree, banyan tree.
Cool breeze passing through
seeking blessings of banyan tree
branches shaking in approval
banyan tree, banyan tree.
Glassy green with majestic trunk
touching the earth, not breaking free
shelter home for different birds
banyan tree, banyan tree.
Yellowish streaks, some with reddish tinge
welcome every season with a glee
symbol of eternal life
banyan tree, banyan tree.
Shedding leaves, like tears falling
a grandfather lamenting on its knees
new plants cuddling around
banyan tree, banyan tree.
Lord Buddha became its buddy
meditation was the only key
peace you get underneath
that is why it is banyan tree.
Banyan tree, banyan tree
wish fullfilling, it is banyan tree
just pray here and let you see
Banyan tree, banyan tree.
A life giver and just for free
Banyan is my national pride
preserve these at any cost
don't commit a homicide?
God blessed us with banyan tree
heat absorbing banyan tree
has healing powers this banyan tree
banyan tree, banyan tree.
---- X -----
copyright/Children of Lost God/Tribhawan Kaul
All rights reserved
poem by Tribhawan Kaul
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Sprinkle Your Love
The glazing sunshine
Afternoon
Under that tree
Tree with dry leaves
Visible roots
Dry earth
Give me water
To drink
And sprinkle your love
On the bareness of my heart
The sky and some patches of white clouds
I stretch
Hold my hands
The hands dry like the branches of that tree
Hold my hands
For these hands
May grow some leaves
And fruits
Like the hope
I have
From the tree
My love
Do not despair
There is blood
Still running in my veins
poem by Sadiqullah Khan
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The Dead Tree At The Center Of Our Garden
a tree at the center of
our garden
is shedding off all its
leaves
the wind at night
blows away all the leaves
away
in the morning
sunlight passes through it
leafless throughout the day
we have become
illuminated
our sad faces are now telling
stories
sooner the tree dies
replaced by a new one
to keep the balance
we do not stop moving
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Tree's Will
Planted firmly, and sprouting seemingly too fast,
The result was strong and beautiful.
Roots growing through the soil and getting stronger each day
The tree grew taller than all.
Standing tall through the wind and the rain
The storms and the droughts, beholding strength with pain.
One day a storm came, and through the wind, through the rain
The tree fought and came through with scars.
Feeling beyond repair, the tree stood there, looking for the sun in a black abyss.
Remaining strong, hope lingered on, as the tree held to the earth.
Limbs snapped, leaves flew, and gashes were left in it's skin.
But still, the tree's will grew.
poem by Carli Gibson
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I'm Just An Ordinary Tree
My existence
start from a little piece of seed...
First, I was bury on the ground...
Then, I showed my two cute leaves up in to world...
But it didn't end just like that...
I grow... more and more...
With love, hope and care,
I became a tree...
Tree with many leaves,
if you need some shady circumstance...
Tree with a strong wood,
if you need me to make a good wardrobe...
Tree with a tight root,
if you want to make a solid foundation...
Tree with a sincerely pray,
if you need a support...
Tree with an everlasting presence,
if you need a friend beside you forever...
Tree with a dry branch,
if you want to share your tears...
Tree with a pure dew,
if you feel thirsty...
Tree with a warm wind,
if you get cold and alone...
Tree with a full color's flowers,
if you feel your life so black and white...
Tree with many hopes,
if you lost your dreams away...
But... after all,
I'm just an ordinary Tree...
By: Tree
22 May 2007,7: 02 PM
The heart of a tree
With branches reaching out as if for a embrace
The tree may bow to nature with grace.
He stands alone when the wind blows strong.
The leaves may fall, but the tree stands tall.
There are some things that the eyes can't see.
Like the heart of a tree.
In winter's cold chill, You can see the tree stand still.
Leaves are gone but the tree stands strong.
Until winter turns into spring and the birds begin to sing.
The leaves may fall, but the tree stands tall.
There are some things that the eyes can't see.
Like the heart of a tree.
Through storms and the wind. Bowing with a graceful bend,
Until the sun shines again, still standing at the end,
The tree is like a true friend.
The leaves may fall, but the tree stands tall.
There are some things that the eye can't see,
Like the heart of a tree.
The old Tree's secrets
How many lovers sat together under the old tree?
If only the tree could speak.
The stories would be of weary travelers
finding a place of peace, and dreams in their sleep.
Stolen moments of lovers, perhaps a sweet caress.
A young man with a ring, a young girl said yes.
Tree I only imagine, I enjoy the guess.
Gentle breezes that lifted the leaves
to let them gently fall to earth.
Misting rain to meet the tree's thirst,
Perhaps two trees inter-twined are
Two lovers that were curst.
poem by Judy Arline Puckett
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On A Cemented Bench
on a cemented bench
under the talisay tree
dried leaves in heaps
a red ant bites
your foot on its territory
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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My Silence Shall Be
i find this in the forest of trees
long trees, shady, such that what you can see
are only shadows of leaves
and what you hear is only the sound of the wind
choked between tight walls,
this is my silence,
moist, and soft, between a growth of wild
ferns
rotten leaves heaps and heaps of
rotten leaves
layer after layer of rotten leaves
thick and pushed still to the roots
smashed to the ground
some seeds from the oaks
or maybe from the flowers of the orchids
or some sweet fruits and red berries fall
in there
and they begin to grow
rich as humus is this soil down
the darkness of this forest,
this is my silence
deep inside me
moist, rotten, but soon
lots shall grow
seeds turning into sprouts
to trees again
perhaps taller than ever
some fruits so sweet and colored and shiny
some flowers scented and so lovely,
this my silence
shall be, i am keeping it for years
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The timetable of four
The golden glows of sunlight hit me
The smell of freshly cut grass reached me
The sight of freedom exhilarated me
The sounds of birds intrigued me
The beauty around me radiated from everything
The long open stretches of grass
The shady woodlands going on and on
The unending number of livening creatures
The cawing raven in the tree branches
The worm busily digging in the soil
The fish swimming idly in the pond
The child playing happily in the park
It is summer now but soon it will change
Soon it will change
Soon it will change into Autumn
I’ll still be in my tree
The children are playing in the heaps of leaves
The leaves have all gone a golden colour
The ravens are searching for bugs in the leaves
The fish are swimming slower in their pond
It is Autumn now but it will soon change
Soon it will change
Soon it will change into Winter
I’ll still be in my tree
There are no children playing
There are no leaves on the trees
The ravens have all gone south
There are no fish in the pond
It is Winter now but it will soon change
It will soon change
It will soon change into spring
I’ll still be in my tree
The children are starting to come back
The ravens are backing cawing in the trees
There is new fish in the pond
There are new buds on the trees
It is Spring now but soon it will change
Soon it will change
Soon it will change into Summer
I’ll still be in my tree
Waiting
Watching
Writing
Thinking
For I Too Must Leave Just Like Those Birds
the tree in the garden
has died
what we see now are
nothing but twigs without leaves
below are the heaps
of dead leaves
rotting
we have become like them
hopeless for sometime
dry and cracking
light as the wind
drifting like
the cloud
empty, hollowed by the
mourning of our arid
days
dragging nights
lifeless on a very cold wood
for a bed
one morning some yellow sparrows
with thin long black beaks
hover upon those twigs
and the dead tree even for
the moment has assumed
life
upon a borrowed hope only
for that brief moment
until then when all the sparrows
fly away again
taking with them all the songs
that you hear
you learn the tune from those
thin black and long beaks
and you must compose a song
for yourself
borrowing hope from hope
putting those leaves back
on your
imaginary trees
you must tell me
about the will to live
for i too must leave
and be a part of somewhere else
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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84
my silence shall be
i find this in the forest of trees
long trees, shady, such that what you can see
are only shadows of leaves
and what you hear is only the sound of the wind
choked between tight walls,
this is my silence,
moist, and soft, between a growth of wild
ferns
rotten leaves heaps and heaps of
rotten leaves
layer after layer of rotten leaves
thick and pushed still to the roots
smashed to the ground
some seeds from the oaks
or maybe from the flowers of the orchids
or some sweet fruits and red berries fall
in there
and they begin to grow
rich as humus is this soil down
the darkness of this forest,
this is my silence
deep inside me
moist, rotten, but soon
lots shall grow
seeds turning into sprouts
to trees again
perhaps taller than ever
some fruits so sweet and colored and shiny
some flowers scented and so lovely,
this my silence
shall be, i am keeping it for years
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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My Destiny
Once I alleged there would be a
Destiny for me and
I would think of a tree bearing leaves
Unfolding in the springtime that would
Only touch the sky if clouds were dense as
Thunderclouds, perhaps-
Dark as fear and ominous- If fate would allow
I would reach upward on a solitary walk
At the dawning of each day and touch the sky
Before the sun came out from hiding from behind cragged mountains-
At daybreak a few stars still being visible-
I would wish upon one remaining star- My destiny being to
Find a safe place for myself in this world? Clouds so dense and dark-
As deceiving as promises made by those I once believed in
Before lightening would strike and thunder would clap
Would deceive me and their ghostly spirits still haunt me as
Wind would blow down that tree
That never touched the sky because this wind had blown and
Lightening struck it down?
If I could I would be a tree that
In the event of never touching the sky and being the victim of a storm
It would not matter because a tree
Cannot feel the pain of deception, fear and mistrust?
I would live my life as a tree blossoming every spring,
Leaves unfolding and then changing colors in the autumn-
Always beautiful to see but
Not knowing the depth of sorrow felt or the
Agony of loss even after having fallen-
Only because God did not give it a soul?
The sun shall rise over the mountains as the full moon
Bids the night farewell- before light succumbs the darkness,
I shall wish upon a star and if the stars are obliterated by clouds so dark and ominous-
I shall try to be thankful for my soul that was God-given- that
I can feel love and appreciation of all that is beautiful-
Even if all the people in this world slight, hurt and betray me-
I can appreciate the glory of the rising sun and adore the splendor of nature-
I still have myself and even if lightening were to strike me dead,
My soul shall live on forever….
poem by Claudia Krizay
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Destiny
Once I alleged there would be a
Destiny for me and
I would think of a tree bearing leaves
Unfolding in the springtime that would
Only touch the sky if clouds were dense as
Thunderclouds, perhaps-
Dark as fear and ominous- If fate would allow
I would reach upward on a solitary walk
At the dawning of each day and touch the sky
Before the sun came out from hiding from behind cragged mountains-
At daybreak a few stars still being visible-
I would wish upon one remaining star- My destiny being to
Find a safe place for myself in this world? Clouds so dense and dark-
As deceiving as promises made by those I once believed in
Before lightening would strike and thunder would clap
Would deceive me and their ghostly spirits still haunt me as
Wind would blow down that tree
That never touched the sky because this wind had blown and
Lightening struck it down?
If I could I would be a tree that
In the event of never touching the sky and being the victim of a storm
It would not matter because a tree
Cannot feel the pain of deception, fear and mistrust?
I would live my life as a tree blossoming every spring,
Leaves unfolding and then changing colors in the autumn-
Always beautiful to see but
Not knowing the depth of sorrow felt or the
Agony of loss even after having fallen-
Only because God did not give it a soul?
The sun shall rise over the mountains as the full moon
Bids the night farewell- before light succumbs the darkness,
I shall wish upon a star and if the stars are obliterated by clouds so dark and ominous-
I shall try to be thankful for my soul that was God-given- that
I can feel love and appreciation of all that is beautiful-
Even if all the people in this world slight, hurt and betray me-
I can appreciate the glory of the rising sun and adore the splendor of nature-
I still have myself and even if lightening were to strike me dead,
My soul shall live on forever….
Claudia Krizay
poem by Claudia Krizay
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Deus Ex Machina
she complains about the storm
last night
for the leaves are making heaps
and this morning
she will be sweeping them
the wind comes and sweeps away
all the leaves towards the pit
awed, she says, because she prays.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Like a leaf in the wind
Her soul flutters like a leaf in the wind
Clinging on to tree of life
With nothing more than hope
Devoid of pretense
Shorn of desires
Tossed about, at the whim of a gathering storm
Dark cold has slowed the sap
But deep inside, life fights to surge through
Longing for the next sunny day
When the sap will ease through fluid pathways
Until then, her soul flutters like a leaf in the wind
On a high branch she clings alone
While the other leaves huddle
Warm in their numbers
Sheltered in low branches
Wondering how she has lasted so long
While her soul flutters like a leaf in the wind
When the storm blows harder,
She sometimes feels close to giving up
And sinking quietly to the ground below
Returning to dust, from where she arose
But something in her refuses to let go
While her soul flutters like a leaf in the wind
So come wind, come storm,
Blow as you might
She will cling on to the tree of life
This lone leaf will fight.
poem by Anita Atina
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In the Rushing Wind
The wind hath whirled the leaves from off the tree.
The leaves were yellow, they had lived their time,
And lie a golden heap or fly away,
As if the butterflies had left their wings
Behind, when love's short summertime had gone,
And killed them. Lightly doth the leaves' great shower
Whirl on and skim the ground, where ancient leaves
Lie rotten, trampled on, so featureless,
That you can hardly tell what formed that mould,
That never-ending burial-place of leaves.
And then the wind will shake and bend the tree,
And twist its branches off, burst it asunder,
Uproot the giant and bring low his head,
Upheave the granite block round which the roots
Had taken hold for countless centuries.
On goes the wind! The corn is green and soft--
Earth's wavy fur. It does but ripple lightly
In childish laughter at the harmless fun
That was a death-blow. But the sea awakes
And frowns and foams and rises into anger
So wild with wrath, and yet so powerless,
As if a thousand chains had chained it down,
To howl, to suffer, to rebel against
The heartless merriment of stronger powers.
On goes the wind, to shake the rock, to blow
Into a flame, the wild incendiary,
And never doth he look behind, to see,
To feel, to understand the horror he
Hath worked. The breath--the robe of Destiny--
Sweeps on, sweeps past, and never lists that hell
And heaven have awaked, in shrieking anguish,
But blows the clouds away, laughs at the sun,
And falls into unconscious, dreamless sleep.
poem by Carmen Sylva
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Leaves Compared with Flowers
A tree's leaves may be ever so good,
So may its bar, so may its wood;
But unless you put the right thing to its root
It never will show much flower or fruit.
But I may be one who does not care
Ever to have tree bloom or bear.
Leaves for smooth and bark for rough,
Leaves and bark may be tree enough.
Some giant trees have bloom so small
They might as well have none at all.
Late in life I have come on fern.
Now lichens are due to have their turn.
I bade men tell me which in brief,
Which is fairer, flower or leaf.
They did not have the wit to say,
Leaves by night and flowers by day.
Leaves and bar, leaves and bark,
To lean against and hear in the dark.
Petals I may have once pursued.
Leaves are all my darker mood.
poem by Robert Frost
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