En.Citatepedia^®.ro

Nine Things

It's night
and a numbered beauty
lapses at the wind,
chortles with the
branches of a tree,

giggles,

plays shadow dance
with a dead kite,
cajoles affection
from falling leaves,
and knows four
other things.
One is the color
of your hair.

poem by Richard Brautigan
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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The Kite-Part 1

I once was the kite, a beautiful, flying kite
I soared the sky, I dipped and swooped with all of my might
You were the tree, my tree, growing tall inside my yard
Growing tall and healthy, your strength mighty and hard
One day, unknown to all as to why, I got stuck
Stuck on your highest branch, freedom was no luck
The longer I was there, the more entangled I became
Tighter and tighter, knotted in my prison-like game
With every sharp wind, from every sharp word from you
I wrapped around more and more, as your ugly words blew
A tangled mess so bad, I was left atop this tree
This relationship tree I once depended upon, now traps and keeps me
Through storms of bad fights, your emotional wind blows
I get whipped and battered, around in knots my life goes
During angry weather, my body gets ripped and beat
Thrashed against this tree, where branches were my treat
The shade the leaves offered me, when the days were bright
Now is dark with mystery, keeping in secret the life of my kite
I am still there, for all to everyday see, although my color is gone
Faded and weathered, ripped and torn, endlessly trapped, I hang on
Oh how I want to be that flying kite again
Guided and held by trusting hands of way back when
To fly high and be free, through the sky I would go
How and why my flights changed, I might never know

poem by Deborah Cromer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Betrayed Tree

Dance,
these boughs and branches
sway,
revelry at the midday,
sun,
hates me and hides behind
the rain
love I have, I grow is in vain
but my leaves,
my bark are still strong enough to live
so me dance,
a heartbreak to fight against
dance,
my bending boughs and branches,
dance,
on my own roots, I can still stand..

poem by Kite Remedy
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Leaves Turning Grey

Like a carcass lays, an ancient tree,
he tried to pray, through celestial seas,
but his spirit flew just like a bee.
Everyday he gazed at crying clouds,
the wind through his branches was so loud.
He looked for listening ears
as he stood in a sea of tears.

O tree, do you still wade?
Why have you lost your will to change?
O tree, leaves turning grey,
your roots have lost their range.

But how can one ask for help,
when you're not helping yourself?
And so this tree founded on sand,
with the wind tumbled to land.
He's an arboreal fool,
in a world that pulls
his heart and blood apart.

O tree, you've lost your blood,
your dead branches lay in the mud.
O tree, leaves turning grey,
your roots in such ground won't stay.

poem by Soren Valentine
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Like A Kite

Sometimes, in my quiet remembrance
I could wish to be like a kite
That flies across the blue sky
and kissed the clouds that dance
on a swagging of air
Like a kite that can touch
the rainbow in the sky
to know the secrets that hides
in their glorious color.

Like a kite, soaring through the wind
Go higher, higher and higher
Trying to reach the mountain tops
We both don't have our own wings
But the wind will be with us
To feel the joy that swells within
And drank the air,
to feel the warmth of a clear spring sky.

poem by Cheryl Aldea
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Self Portrait

The willow tree stands alone.
It grows alone, relying only on the Sun and the Rain.

This willow tree offers shade.
It only shades during the day, casting a monster
of a shadow in the mornings and evenings,
its size shrinking in between. Its shadow
is solid in some places, but has empty
places of sunlight dotting the ground beneath
it, allowing room for purity among the darkness.

This willow tree is immune to the Wind.
It bends whichever way it needs to survive,
sacrificing its tiny leaves to be carried away.

This willow tree is a home.
Small birds build nests on its branches,
laying eggs that will bring new Life to the World.
The nest is supported. Some things of little
weight can be supported, but anything that drags
the branches too close to the ground
will be dropped so the tree can be saved.

This willow tree is weak.
As it grows, its branches come closer and closer
to the ground, for it cannot support the weight
of itself anymore. It cannot help its own soul.
With one swing of an ax, the tree will be felled.
It will be finished, left there to be eaten
and burrowed in and rotted away by the Earth.

poem by Zoe Guillory
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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What Color? (Hope)

what color
was the dust
from which the stars

were made?
what color is the hunger
written on the child's face?

what color is justice,
forgiveness, desire, truth?
what color is the wind....

the rain, gravity,
and knowledge?
what color is equality?

what color is freedom?
what color is eternity?
what color is redemption?

what color is God?
what color were the nails
that hung Jesus on the cross?

what color was enlightenment
falling on the Buddha as he sat
'neath that tree?

what color is prejudice, hatred,
fear, greed, apathy.....
what color your skin?

nay, what color is your blood?
and what color are the eyes
of humanity staring through the darkness?

and what color is hope?

poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Faraway From You

i have traversed so much distance,

got that this sense of being far away
where no intimacy can reach me as i

avoided that which is so near that which i cannot touch
because nearness is blindness

and when i become so blind how can i see the beauty of color

the coolness of the wind in you
the blueness of your affection

it is this distance that makes me see the rainbow
which i carried in my heart

it has the scent of longing
the you

so far away from me and yet still becomes my own shadow
when i sleep and dream

you are still beside me, and then we are one again
in wanting to forget

i shall fool love again and make it believe that
there is you

there is none
really there is none

what is there is this pain
my own shadow in your shadow

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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East To West

As i walked beneath a huge oak tree,
Its shadow a mere shade,
Faints to grey.
As i sat between the fallen leaves,
Dead, is this me.
Have become part of the lost,
What is the cost.
As the sun sets,
The branches stretch,
There is no wind,
East to west.
The sun, the trees maker,
Humans, we are the takers

poem by Unic Cjonr
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Autumn of our lives

Its Autumn now and its the season
I'm getting old and there's a reason
Were casting off our summers bloom,
Amongst falling leaves I feel in tune
Leaves are falling, disrobing the tree
My hair turning silver, in sympathy
Winds of change are in the air
Stripping us of our summer flare
A gunmetal sky at mornings half light
Heralds the winters darkest night
No birds sing to welcome the day
Migrations begun they're on their way
Second year branches they start breaking
Like my old bones they start aching
We both are rooted to this place
Together the winter we will face

poem by Bob Gibson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Autumn Dreams

Grinning pumpkins, falling leaves,
Dancing scarecrows, twirling breeze,
Color, color everywhere,
Autumn dreams are in the air! Autumn is a woman growing old,
Ready to let what is dead go,
Her youthful radiance has faded, and that's sad,
But underneath she discovers a
spread of colors she didn't know she had. Little children screech and run,
Ghosts and goblins having fun,
Color, color everywhere,
Autumn dreams are in the air! Around her a kaleidoscope of leaves are whirling.
Deep within her visions stir of new life that will be,
A budding, a flowering, a promise unfurling.
Autumn is a woman growing old,
Ready to let what is dead go. Calico kittens, rain falling rat-a-tat-tat,
Big full moon, funny black cats,
Color, color everywhere,
Autumn dreams are in the air!

poem by Mary Naylor
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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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I Am' tree series # 2

i am tall
i am straight
i am ' TREE
as i see my leaves falling to the ground
surrounding my trunk like a skirt.
my branches stretch to all four corners
north, south, east, west
and as they fall, i know then
that i am dying.

i stretch my head to the father sun
and scream for his strength.
and down to mother earth
to quench my thirst.

for hundreds of years, i have lived
and flourished with a beauty that
all mankind admires.
i then realized that it was' autumn.'

i am replenishing my life,
to enter a new one.
as my branches, which touch each point
north, south, east, west
so are the four seasons.

'i am ' tree
i live, i die, i revive.
my beauty like love is eternal
in the eyes of the beholder.

'I AM' TREE.

poem by Louis Rams
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sta. Ana Wind

have you ever
send autumn leaves
falling
making a heap
of yellow and brown
and orange
on the ground?

in the same manner
i have not seen
the sta. ana wind
but you make me feel
as though
i am within
the softness of the wind

the falling of the leaves
so sweetly

i love it
when you set me free
finally

my hair
keeping some of the
sta. ana wind
my hands
letting go the
autumn leaves
in my mind

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Six Significant Landscapes

I.
An old man sits
In the shadow of a pine tree
In China.
He sees larkspur,
Blue and white,
At the edge of the shadow,
Move in the wind.
His beard moves in the wind.
The pine tree moves in the wind.
Thus water flows
Over weeds.

II.
The night is of the colour
Of a woman's arm:
Night, the female,
Obscure,
Fragrant and supple,
Conceals herself.
A pool shines,
Like a bracelet
Shaken in a dance.

III.
I measure myself
Against a tall tree.
I find that I am much taller,
For I reach right up to the sun,
With my eye;
And I reach to the shore of the sea
With my ear.
Nevertheless, I dislike
The way ants crawl
In and out of my shadow.

IV.
When my dream was near the moon,
The white folds of its gown
Filled with yellow light.
The soles of its feet
Grew red.
Its hair filled
With certain blue crystallizations
From stars,
Not far off.

V.
Not all the knives of the lamp-posts,
Nor the chisels of the long streets,
Nor the mallets of the domes
And high towers,
Can carve
What one star can carve,
Shining through the grape-leaves.

VI.
Rationalists, wearing square hats,
Think, in square rooms,
Looking at the floor,
Looking at the ceiling.
They confine themselves
To right-angled triangles.
If they tried rhomboids,
Cones, waving lines, ellipses --
As, for example, the ellipse of the half-moon --
Rationalists would wear sombreros.

poem by Wallace Stevens
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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The Tree's Devil

The tree, how it sits
so still in the ground.
It is its homeplace,
forever it stays there,
unless it is rudely uprooted.
It's branches slowly sway
to and from with the soft breeze.
Soon, night will come
and with it it will bring
the devils wind.
It will howl and whine
threw the tree's limbs,
and the tree will anger
and slash its branches out,
trying to stop the dreadful wind.

poem by Alison Miotke
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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One summer when the wind was strong

This is the place, now we are here again

I remember that summer when the wind was strong
And everything around us was dry,

The acacia trees towered and showered us with
Round leaves falling and falling and falling

Some birds were there and they flew away
Some cars were there and they speeded away

It was getting dark and it was a dry summer
We stayed there for a while when the leaves fell

Then we went under the trees not seeking shelter
But to catch those leaves falling and falling and falling

We are trying to feel again what falling was
We are here on this summer, we see the leaves

Falling and falling again to the dry wind,
We try to recall about us, but there is simply

Nothing about us anymore, but just the same
The leaves fall and fall and fall, we see them reenacting

There is that meaning; there it is in the falling
But we have outgrown it, we look for more, we hope

We can find some more, something beyond us.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Dispossessed

Tender and tremulous green of leaves
Turned up by the wind,
Twanging among the vines -
Wind in the grass
Blowing a clear path
For the new-stripped soul to pass…

The naked soul in the sunlight…
Like a wisp of smoke in the sunlight
On the hill-side shimmering.

Dance light on the wind, little soul,
Like a thistle-down floating
Over the butterflies
And the lumbering bees…

Come away from that tree
And its shadow grey as a stone…

Bathe in the pools of light
On the hillside shimmering -
Shining and wetted and warm in the sun-spray falling like golden rain -

But do not linger and look
At that bleak thing under the tree.

poem by Lola Ridge
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Generations

You are like the stem
Of a young beech-tree,
Straight and swaying,
Breaking out in golden leaves.
Your walk is like the blowing of a beech-tree
On a hill.
Your voice is like leaves
Softly struck upon by a South wind.
Your shadow is no shadow, but a scattered sunshine;
And at night you pull the sky down to you
And hood yourself in stars.

But I am like a great oak under a cloudy sky,
Watching a stripling beech grow up at my feet.

poem by Amy Lowell
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