Peepal Tree
Dense huge peepal tree
With bustling leaves
Provides space
For nests to be
Earthen pot at its base
Succour to generations
Who after a long walk
Graced its base
Overgrown branches
With years of service
Stretch for succour
In her womb
Sprout with vigour
To recreate a dense huge peepal tree.
poem by Sanjay Mehta
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A Family Is Like A Tree
A tree is like a family it starts
out very small but it soon begins
to grow and the family too also
grows.
The tree starts out with small branches.
A family ita a child.
as the years go by they have all
grown together.
Soon the tree has been generated with
new branches and too the family expands
not with branches, but generations.
.Their both so much a like in so many
ways., if nurtured and taken care of
they both will grow straight. and tall.
And generate many new branch
and many more generations too
come as the tree grows old
some branches will die and fall off.
When the generations of a family
get old they too will die off.
But both will leave something of
themselves behind.
.
To live on for many generations of
life and many generations of branches..
GAYLE GOFF
2008
poem by Gayle Anne Goff
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Arbor Amoris
I have a tree, a graft of Love,
That in my heart has taken root;
Sad are the buds and blooms thereof,
And bitter sorrow is its fruit;
Yet, since it was a tender shoot,
So greatly hath its shadow spread,
That underneath all joy is dead,
And all my pleasant days are flown,
Nor can I slay it, nor instead
Plant any tree, save this alone.
Ah, yet, for long and long enough
My tears were rain about its root,
And though the fruit be harsh thereof,
I scarcely looked for better fruit
Than this, that carefully I put
In garner, for the bitter bread
Whereon my weary life is fed:
Ah, better were the soil unsown
That bears such growths; but Love instead
Will plant no tree, but this alone.
Ah, would that this new spring, whereof
The leaves and flowers flush into shoot,
I might have succour and aid of Love,
To prune these branches at the root,
That long have borne such bitter fruit,
And graft a new bough, comforted
With happy blossoms white and red;
So pleasure should for pain atone,
Nor Love slay this tree, nor instead
Plant any tree, but this alone.
L'ENVOY.
Princess, by whom my hope is fed,
My heart thee prays in lowlihead
To prune the ill boughs overgrown,
Nor slay Love's tree, nor plant instead
Another tree, save this alone.
poem by François Villon
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Our Family Tree
We class ourselves as branches
on our family tree,
each person has a branch
and each branch has its branches
growing out of it.
Let’s go back to the beginning,
who would be the base
of our family tree.
In being logical,
we take the first names
in our written history
and those first two names
have to be Adam and Eve.
Now if they are the base
from which all families grow.
That makes everyone
on earth one big family,
and that makes everyone we talk to
part of our big family tree.
7 March 2008
poem by David Harris
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Prayer To Pipal Pillaiyar
Gorgeously pregnant with varieties of dumplings
Vadas, appams, puffed and flaked rice
Cooked, baked chickpeas and raw rice idlis
Payasam with ghee-fried cashews and raisins
Added to the core of sweets
Fruits of jack, jumblem, mango, banana, wood-apple
Guava and of modernity simla apple, pineapple
And tangerines; Also on availability whole sugarcanes
Main offering of potful of cooked rice
With little dal purified on with ghee
Whole and halved coconuts, betel and areca
Little water from panchapaathra....Pillaiar
Signalling to nap, Your paunch belched uptrunked
This peepal tree on this tank-resort
You chose to sit under for rest..
Gentle breeze peepal tree strokes so sweet
Mind-sweeping and You're in a pleasant mood
Delicacies bulge though in real bulges your omniscience
In full prostration seeking Your blessings oh Lord!
poem by Indira Renganathan
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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
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Shadow
No more I toil to get out
Of the shadow
Which thickens
Every passing moment.
Strangely enough,
The urge to come out of it
Has given way
To a desire to languish in it.
I took forward to a
Splendid metamorphosis
Of the shadow
Like the one under
The great Peepal tree from where
A shaft of light divine
Enlightened the universe.
Sonnet – Don’t Be
Don't be the fallen leaves, so young and green;
Don't be the buds that never can flower;
Don't be the twigs that always remain lean;
Don't be the flow'rs that dropp with each shower.
Don't be the branches growing very long;
Don't be the tree that never blooms at all;
Don’t be the nests that disallow Bird-song;
Don't be the fruits that hit the Earth by Fall.
Don't be the trunk hollowed by Birds, white-Ants;
Don't be the crown that can't get Sun or Rain;
Don't be the tree that grows not straight but slants;
Don't be the roots that prop the tree in vain.
Don't be the tree that grows on marshy-land;
Just be a tree secure in Maker's Hand.
poem by John Celes
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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
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Cat Mouse Space Games
on earth many a mouse
hunting prey cheese
is swift mousetrap caught
in space the moon
is the night mouse
the earth hunting cat
earth waits huge mouth open
huge feline fangs teeth showing
waiting to swallow whole mouse
a natural ending to cat mouse games
base animals space wars old habits
space quarantine grounds earth minds
poem by Terence George Craddock
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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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If I Was a Tree
If I was a tree my roots would be planted in the soil where Shakespeare walked. My branches would sprout from the likes of Browning, Whitman, Wheatly, Dunbar, Hughes and Angelou and in the spring my leaves would blossom with my own words. So a poet I would be even if I was a tree.
~~It was May, The Summer of my 12th Year~~
My fathers' field
acre upon acre of hay
barren in May
from winters blight
perfect for me to play
~~
Flat land
as far as I could see
except for one huge pine tree
a young boy, idealistic still
I thought this tree was grown for me
~~
I climbed the tree most every day
climbing right to the very top
branches formed a perfect seat
magically sitting there
time would stop
~~
Wind would blow, branches creaked
the tree and I swaying with the breeze
protected in my tree
ignorant of life's confusion...
its little ambiguities
~~
Now I wonder, as I sit
in these my twilight days
if only I could travel back
to that my 12th year in May
to hear the wind, smell the pine
and feel the boughs as they sway
~~
I would love to whisper one more time
to my very special tree
thank you so for keeping me safe
and all the memories
but most of all for the excitement
and the passion for feeling free
poem by Peter Shea
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The Old Man Beside A Huge Tree
i have seen the picture of an old man
beside a huge oak tree
the picture is old
black and white and the kind of one that is strong
for it will last another lifetime
i have not seen the old man
neither the huge oak tree for real
i have the picture of the old man and the old oak tree
and the younger man sleeping
his smooth skin caressed by the fluffing grass
there is a story there and it is all about
gods and dogs
a film about a director who lost his fame
and fortune
about a young gardener who captures a heart
and made it bleed
at the end the old man met a happy death
the old oak tree was gone
but i have not really seen what is real
i have seen only the picture of what i thought could have been real
black and white
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Restlessness
stay put
be a tree
spread
your roots
extend your branches to the skies
have more leaves and let some birds
make their nests in you
learn to know the sun better
then the moon
and then when the night is so dark
imagine a crown of stars
they become yours
without doing anything
stay put
be a tree
do not
do anything
do not move
just grow
and be
yourself
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Giving Tree
Once there was a tree....
and she loved a little boy.
And everyday the boy would come
and he would gather her leaves
and make them into crowns
and play king of the forest.
He would climb up her trunk
and swing from her branches
and eat apples.
And they would play hide-and-go-seek.
And when he was tired,
he would sleep in her shade.
And the boy loved the tree....
very much.
And the tree was happy.
But time went by.
And the boy grew older.
And the tree was often alone.
Then one day the boy came to the tree
and the tree said, 'Come, Boy, come and
climb up my trunk and swing from my
branches and eat apples and play in my
shade and be happy.'
'I am too big to climb and play' said
the boy.
'I want to buy things and have fun.
I want some money?'
'I'm sorry,' said the tree, 'but I
have no money.
I have only leaves and apples.
Take my apples, Boy, and sell them in
the city. Then you will have money and
you will be happy.'
And so the boy climbed up the
tree and gathered her apples
and carried them away.
And the tree was happy.
But the boy stayed away for a long time....
and the tree was sad.
And then one day the boy came back
and the tree shook with joy
and she said, 'Come, Boy, climb up my trunk
and swing from my branches and be happy.'
'I am too busy to climb trees,' said the boy.
'I want a house to keep me warm,' he said.
'I want a wife and I want children,
and so I need a house.
Can you give me a house ?'
' I have no house,' said the tree.
'The forest is my house,
but you may cut off
my branches and build a
house. Then you will be happy.'
And so the boy cut off her branches
and carried them away
to build his house.
And the tree was happy.
But the boy stayed away for a long time.
And when he came back,
the tree was so happy
she could hardly speak.
'Come, Boy,' she whispered,
'come and play.'
'I am too old and sad to play,'
said the boy.
'I want a boat that will
take me far away from here.
Can you give me a boat?'
'Cut down my trunk
and make a boat,' said the tree.
'Then you can sail away...
and be happy.'
And so the boy cut down her trunk
and made a boat and sailed away.
And the tree was happy
... but not really.
And after a long time
the boy came back again.
'I am sorry, Boy,'
said the tree,' but I have nothing
left to give you -
My apples are gone.'
'My teeth are too weak
for apples,' said the boy.
'My branches are gone,'
said the tree. ' You
cannot swing on them - '
'I am too old to swing
on branches,' said the boy.
'My trunk is gone, ' said the tree.
'You cannot climb - '
'I am too tired to climb' said the boy.
'I am sorry,' sighed the tree.
'I wish that I could give you something....
but I have nothing left.
I am just an old stump.
I am sorry....'
'I don't need very much now,' said the boy.
'just a quiet place to sit and rest.
I am very tired.'
'Well,' said the tree, straightening
herself up as much as she could,
'well, an old stump is good for sitting and resting
Come, Boy, sit down. Sit down and rest.'
And the boy did.
And the tree was happy.
poem by Sheldon Allan Silverstein
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And is there care in heaven, and is there love
And is there care in heaven, and is there love
In heavenly spirits to us creatures base,
That may compassion of our evils move?
There is : else much more wretched were the case
Of men than beasts: but oh! the exceeding grace
Of highest God, that loves his creatures so,
And all his works with mercy doth embrace;
That blessed angels He sends to and fro,
To serve even wicked men, to serve his wicked foe.
How oft do they their silver bowers leave,
And come to succour us that succour want!
How oft do they with golden pinions cleave
The flitting skies, like flying pursuivant,
Against foul fiends to aid us militant!
They for us fight; they watch and duly ward,
And their bright squadrons round about us plant;
And all for love, and nothing for reward:
Oh! why should heavenly God to men have such regard!
poem by Edmund Spenser
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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
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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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Foxes and wolfs
Foxes and wolfs wanders
In dense forest
No moon no sun
The ages of history
Being turned.
Playing of light shadow
Continued under the tree
The tree keep me free
And I live
Water and air there
And I being
Transparent dissolved.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
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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
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