Those With Fruits And Leaves
what then is the purpose
about those who have no leaves
or fruits
those bald ones
those dried twigs
brown leaves
and broken stones?
they are part of the choirs
of nature
each has a gap to fill
a place to rot
to shine
to hit and awaken.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Trimming The Trees, Pruning The Twigs....
on the tree of life
there will be more leaves
and twigs and flowers
on spring
and more luscious fruits
for eating
there is somehow a
need for trimming
what excesses are there
twigs that go awry
leaves that lush for too much
shade
and so we do just that
cut some twigs
take a look and cut some
more
remove some leaves
for sacrifices
for us to some more
and some time
see heaven for once.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Like A Mango Tree
like a mango tree bearing so many fruits
this month of May
the unruly children gather around
with stones and sticks
and beat each branch
and both the young and
mature fruits fall
without a careful
segregation
what a waste!
the moral lesson is:
do not be too fruitful, just be leaves and twigs.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Autumn
(10/13/11)
The autumn leaves falling on the ground
The autumn leaves of yellow, orange and brown
The trees like a rainbow of colors
Such as this there is no other.
My friends would climb up the smallest trees
And shake the leaves down to me.
then the leaves are raked up and placed in a large pile
Children diving in and laughing all the while.
The crispy crunch that you hear
Sends the chills through your ears.
The autumn leaves reminding us
That Halloween was very near
Where we could dress up and create some fear.
But for now we would have our fun
Chasing each other with our water guns
Diving into leaves of gold and brown
Hoping that we wouldn’t be found.
The park keeper was as happy as can be
From raking the leaves he was free.
He would pick them up and putting
Them into the metal cans- and the smell
Of burning leaves would fill the air
Letting people know that autumn was here.
(memories are made of this- like the song)
poem by Louis Rams
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Since That Is Nature's Way
By their deciduous mother tree on the grass they do lay
The brown leaves of the Autumn have gone to decay
The magpie is piping in the dawn cool and gray
And life it goes on since that is Nature's way
Like her Seasons her life forms to Nature come and go
Yet so little of her ways we can claim to know
I marvel at the wonders in Nature I see
But Nature remains as a mystery to me
The beauty in Nature is ours to enjoy
I first fell in love with her as a young boy
And though the father of time mercy for us don't show
My wonderment of her only seems to grow
The brown leaves of Autumn lay near their mother tree
And the fate that befell them is also for me.
poem by Francis Duggan
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The Injustice
power occupies your place
puts up its throne
with glistening stones as crown
and the tail of the man ray
as scepter
you worship it
as it hits you not just once
but for as long as you live
until you die and then it leaves
everyone
as empty as the ground where
all the trees are uprooted
the soil all bald
the grasses all taken
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Hazy Shade Of Winter
Time, time, time
See what's become of me...
Time, time, time
See what's become of me
While I looked around
For my possibilities
I was so hard to please
Look around
Leaves are brown
And the sky
Is a Hazy Shade of Winter
Hear the Salvation Army Band
Down by the riverside
It's bound to be a better ride
Than what you've got planned
Carry a cup in your hand
Look around
Leaves are brown
And the sky
Is a Hazy Shade of Winter
Hang onto your hopes my friend
That's an easy thing to say
But if your hopes should pass away
Simply pretend
That you can build them again
Look around
Grass is high
Fields are ripe
It's the springtime of my life
Seasons change with their scenery
Weaving time in a tapestry
Won't you stop and remember me
Look around
Leaves are brown
And the sky
Is a Hazy Shade of Winter
Look around
Leaves are brown
There's a patch of snow on the ground
Look around
Leaves are brown
There's a patch of snow on the ground
Look around
Leaves are brown
There's a patch of snow on the ground
song performed by by Bangles
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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On The Pot Of Hypocrisy
there is a plant there,
lots of green leaves
concealing the color of its twigs
and hungry always
for the sun's attention
there are no flowers or
fruits
it has no power to bear
what it should have given
like the rest
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Tree Without Fruits
the way they handle
a tree without fruits is
crazy
it is as though
the leaves do not matter anymore
or the roots
or even the wood itself
or the living rings
within
that tell about
a certain
age
they are thinking about
a fire
they are cruel
and i think they deserve
to be
burned in hell
the value of the tree
is not just its fruits
mind you
trees also present memories
of their own
their roots too have
beautiful stories to tell
their twigs and lentils
too have dreams
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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An Autumn Crown
Watch the leaves turn
yellow, red and brown
Changing the sky too
And putting on autumn's crown
And letting in the joy
And happiness of sunshine
And filling the world with
The light and warmth of wine
watch the leaves turn
Yellow, red and brown
And reflecting serenity and peace
And putting on autumn's crown
And spreading joy and passion
And enthusiasm and hope
And clearing away the dust
And all pain and mope
watch the leaves turn
Yellow, red and brown
And creating a new life
And putting on autumn's crown
And showing you how to reach
The bright horizon afar
And nature glowing with colors
A twinkling like a star
Watch the leaves turn
Yellow, red and brown
Reflecting God's blessings
And putting on autumn's crown.
poem by Seema Chowdhury
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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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When The Leaves Come Falling Down
I saw you standing with the wind and the rain in your face
And you were thinking bout the wisdom of the leaves and their grace
When the leaves come falling down
In september when the leaves, come falling down
And at night the moon is shining on a clear, cloudless sky
And when the evening shadows fall Ill be there by your side
When the leaves come falling down
In september when the leaves, come falling down
Follow me down, follow me down, follow me down
To the place beside the garden and the wall
Follow me down, follow me down
To the space before the twilight and the dawn
Oh, the last time I saw paris in the streets, in the rain
And as I walk along the boulevards with you, once again
And the leaves come falling down
In september, when the leaves come falling down
Follow me down, follow me down, follow me down
To the place between the garden and the wall
Follow me down, follow me down
To the space between the twilight and the dawn
And as Im looking at the colour of the leaves, in your hand
As were listening to chet baker on the beach, in the sand
When the leaves come falling down,
Woe in september, when the leaves come falling down
Oh when the leaves come falling down
Yeah in september when the leaves come falling down
When the leaves come falling down
In september, when the leaves come falling down
When the leaves come falling down in september, in the rain
When the leaves come falling down
When the leaves come falting down in september, in the rain
When the leaves come falling down
song performed by by Van Morrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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As If They Have Their Own Identity
All of the Autumn leaves that fall from their mother tree
Are shaped so very differently
As if each has their own identity
At least that's how they seem to me.
In the cool gusts of the freshening winds they blow
Along the footpath fast and then quite slow
As if searching for a final resting place
On the Nature strip or in stormwater drain for to hide their wrinkled face.
Their span of time is brief so quick to meet decay
And in Nature's bosom within weeks they rot away
And off of their compost insects and beetles will live
When Nature takes in other ways she give.
Leaves too have life despite what some might say
And all things of life return to earth one day
And though they have life cells they do not have a mind
But they serve some purpose just like human kind.
I hear them rustle on their invisible feet
The dead dry leaves that are blown down the street
All of different shapes and sizes though from the one mother tree
As if they have their own identity.
poem by Francis Duggan
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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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Nature Is My Guide
I look up at the hills
One of nature’s best
The leaves are turning now
Like an Eagle leaves its nest
The flaming red above me
A majestic color chart
For nature is from God
Right from His soul and heart
I watch as an oil rig
Sucks liquid from the earth
Another part of nature
Another kind of birth
I see the precious church
In which I love to pray
I cling to what I believe in
It brings me happiness today
It’s such a simple formula
A pleasant easy way
Let nature be your guide
For special God given days!
poem by Marilyn Lott
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Conceit and Deceit
what i have in my hands
are only stones
if you search for more
pebbles
my mind can give you
but first
you must entice me
with a flower in your hand
for you to have stones
that soon will grow you
some leaves of sand
that soon shall show you
how pebbles can be flowers
too
what you have are only
flowers
a little bit lighter than
the twigs of their source
what i have in my hands
are pebble that give us weight
yes, weight is wisdom
and they are all stones
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Robbin Tree
The Robin begins to build her nest
in the gnarled tree;
the twigs are twisted;
the branches lack leaves;
and the nest is exposed
offering no shelter.
She puts another twig
into the tree fork;
but it falls to the ground.
She looks away west
and leaves.
Her wings
flapping
out a message:
Nature is abandoning us.
poem by Lonnie Hicks
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A Tree
Although I grew up on a dry, infertile soil
I thank the 'Gardeners' by whose means I was sown
Shielded me from the heat, guarded against storms
And tended me until into a 'Tree' I've grown
Into a 'Tree' I've grown although not big and strong
The 'Fruits' I bore were sweet, pleasant to everyone
Did not leave a bad taste on other people's tongue
The leaves I wore were scant but provided a shade
To those who were weary and those who seeked relief
In my own little way, comfort to them I gave
Now I'm old and sapless, the leaves I had were gone
My branches and twigs dry, stretched towards the sun
Begging that I once more be given strength and life
So I'll be again of whatever worth I might
poem by Pacific Hernandez
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To a New Poet...
he who writes a poem
marks a road with many stones
gathers leaves and
does not burn them
plants a seed and leaves it
to grow
wild as a forest
lives for a while and then goes away
in a faraway place
without any inkling
of coming back
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Vivaldi, concerto for flute
Children playing on a green playground
Mothers watching
Closely watching
The faces of children
Smiling
Cool air
Green leaves brown leaves yellow leaves
Soft wind
Leaves falling down to the slow soft wind
Children running
Chasing each other
They are playing
A mother feels the soft wind
Cool air
And sees the trickles of leaves
Blending green brown yellow
With sunshine as canvass
Nature and human figures of mothers and children
Blending
Amazing
What a beautiful painting has God
In quick short brushes
Effortlessly with perfect strokes did make
The frame is laughter of children.
I am taking the whole picture for home.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Sonnet-In Melancholia
'Tis Summer-time this year in its peak form;
There is no sign of leaves green, buds or flow’rs;
One's sweaty-skin could raise exanthems warm;
with water scarce, none can afford good show’rs.
Dry drumstick-fruits hang down from twigs so dry;
Papaya tree has not a single fruit;
The Moon has turned shapeless tonight;
I cry; ' The sky has clouds that look as black as soot.”
The place is airless; there's no noise of Birds;
My Allergy has reached a sorry stage;
And all I eat is rice with pickles, curds;
A battle 'gainst Nature, how can I wage?
Yet, things are settling down in God’s queer ways;
I feel as though these are my last sad days.
poem by John Celes
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