The Whites Of The Almond Tree
THE WHITES OF THE ALMOND TREE
The whites of the almond tree
A shiver down my spine-
The golds and greens,
Olive and pine,
Joy for the eyes-
God Bless the world Outside-
Saint- Simon Park,
Jerusalem Light.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Related quotes
I said to the almond tree, "Friend, speak to me of God," and the almond tree blossomed.
Nikos Kazantzakis in Report to Greco (1961), translated by Peter A. Bien
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Poem -Written On The Small Pad
THE POEM / WRITTEN ON THE SMALL PAD
The poem/
Written on the small pad
In the almond tree park
Intersection Disraeli- Alkalai
The poem of the past days
The poem of the light – rain beginning,
Another Jerusalem poem-
Four- thousand years of Jerusalem poems
I from Troy, New York
Thirty- five years in Israel
Nearly sixty- eight years of age
Write.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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The Almond Tree
This snowy cold December morning
the pen
is full of almond branches, leaves
and black gnarled twigs covered
with white blossoms
the scent of that tree is intoxicating
for here on the real earth,
such trees do not ripen,
nor bear the fruit of that tree.
As children our first movement is to sing joyous songs,
innocent voices, filling mountains and dales with arias.
As adults our first movement is toward joy,
yet we give it away, venting full expression
to a gloomy tho not unfamiliar view of life.
once delighted with the world as children
now the world is in a tangle,
for opened eyes have seen only the glow of fires,
massacres, injustices, humiliations,
and the unrelenting shame
of braggarts and despots.
I look at the pen, it's branches, twigs, leaves
now covered, with cherry blossoms
and breathe in the intoxicating scent of that tree
knowing full well such a tree does not grow in dirt
nor can humanity cut down that tree.
That tree does not desire to save
nations or people
heal the sick,
raise the dead,
connive with politicians,
nor change drunkards and fools
with songs of hope...
The only goal is this, only this
that I see and smell the almond tree,
learn to look with love,
heal this heart,
without knowing from various ills-
for that almond tree says to me: Friend
stand in the glow of ripeness with me
not knowing what purpose served.
Through worm filled tufts
in that sweet garden
that almond tree raises it's eyes
and every blossom
enjoys the air it breathes
poem by Liberatore Suffoletta
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Maybe you're right, boss. It all depends on the way you look at it. Look, one day I had gone to a little village. An old grandfather of ninety was busy planting an almond tree. 'What, grandad' I exclaimed. 'Planting an almond tree' and he, bent as he was, turned round and said, 'My son, I carry on as if I should never die.' I replied, 'And I carry on as if I was going to die any minute.' Which of us was right, boss
quote by Nikos Kazantzakis
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Rather mulberry than almond. (The almond-tree is in blossom earlier than the mulberry.)
Black And Whites
So many choices in my life these days
So much confusion, so many shades of gray
That sometimes I don't know
My left from my right
But I've got these old black and whites
Well, I'm every color that you can paint
A father, a lover, a mother, a sinner and a saint
From Sunday morning, to Saturday night
I've got these old black and whites
Under the spotlight or all alone at midnight
I know I'm right where I belong
It always unwinds me, it finds me then reminds me
That life is as simple as a song
Lovers, they come and surely they go
They fly you so high, say hello, say goodbye
And they leave you low
But that's all right here in these songs that I write
Right here on these old black and whites
So roll over Beethoven
Cause ol' Phil could use some room
I may be out of time and may be out of tune
But you know how it feels to pour out your life
Right here on these old black and whites
Livin life in black and white
song performed by by Phil Vassar
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Black & Whites
So many choices in my life these days
So much confusion, so many shades of gray
That sometimes I don't know
My left from my right
But I've got these old black and whites
Well, I'm every color that you can paint
A father, a lover, a mother, a sinner and a saint
From Sunday morning, to Saturday night
I've got these old black and whites
Under the spotlight or all alone at midnight
I know I'm right where I belong
It always unwinds me, it finds me then reminds me
That life is as simple as a song
Lovers, they come and surely they go
They fly you so high, say hello, say goodbye
And they leave you low
But that's all right here in these songs that I write
Right here on these old black and whites
So roll over Beethoven
Cause ol' Phil could use some room
I may be out of time and may be out of tune
But you know how it feels to pour out your life
Right here on these old black and whites
Livin life in black and white
song performed by by Phil Vassar
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sweeter Than Wine
The Almond flowers,
With buds and blossoms from my lover;
How sweet is the entrance of your tent?
Braided chains of pure gold,
The apple of your sweetest love;
With pure incense of sweet spices.
On one branch,
On one's love,
With buds and blossoms from her taste;
An Olive Oil from her light to share with you like,
That of her skills and abilities.
Your sweet love crowns the night,
In the midst of her mountains with love;
This is my deisre towards her.
Her love is sweeter than wine,
See how her breasts feed among the Lilies;
Of the Almond flowers,
Refresh me with your sweet apples my love;
You are so beautiful among women my love,
Your sweet aroma of the Almond flowers fills my soul.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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The roman soldier
The Roman Soldier
It was late evening, when walking along the walls of
the ancient city of Chester, I saw him, the old centurion,
he stood alone dreaming of retirement, the land and
slaves he had been promised when he joined the army.
He and his kind was hated here, in his own beloved land
the almond tree stood in ornate regalia whishing spring
welcome by strewing a carpet of flowers on its path.
He didn’t see the two terrorists sneak up on him, when
he did it was too late, and slowed by age he was knifed
repeatedly. I think they must have sensed my presence,
looking my way they stopped, jumped over the parapet
and vanished. I held the centurion’s hands, he opened
his brown eyes, a brave little smile, and said: “Guess
I shan’t see the flowering of the almond tree this year.”
poem by Jan Oskar Hansen
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Camomile Tea
Outside the sky is light with stars;
There's a hollow roaring from the sea.
And, alas! for the little almond flowers,
The wind is shaking the almond tree.
How little I thought, a year ago,
In the horrible cottage upon the Lee
That he and I should be sitting so
And sipping a cup of camomile tea.
Light as feathers the witches fly,
The horn of the moon is plain to see;
By a firefly under a jonquil flower
A goblin toasts a bumble-bee.
We might be fifty, we might be five,
So snug, so compact, so wise are we!
Under the kitchen-table leg
My knee is pressing against his knee.
Our shutters are shut, the fire is low,
The tap is dripping peacefully;
The saucepan shadows on the wall
Are black and round and plain to see.
poem by Katherine Mansfield
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Misty Day
Glancing out of the window I see the potted plant
on the sill and the house on the other side of
the road… the light is fading and the plant looks as
sad as a whitewashed wall in rain… its whiteness
was an illusion caused by the sun.
Mist of grief encircles olive trees there are blank
tears on my almond tree´s spindly twigs, yet inside
each droplet I see a tiny world reflecting my own,
only with greater incorruptibility of the untested.
And far away, as a whisper, a mother sings a lullaby.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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Almond Blossom
Blossom of the almond trees,
April's gift to April's bees,
Birthday ornament of Spring,
Flora's fairest daughterling;
Coming when no flowerets dare
Trust the cruel outer air;
When the royal kingcup bold
Dares not don his coat of gold;
And the sturdy black-thorn spray
Keeps his silver for the May; -
Coming when no flowerets would,
Save thy lowly sisterhood,
Early violets; blue and white,
Dying for their love of light; -
Almond blossom, sent to teach us
That the spring days soon will reach us,
Lest, with longing over-tried,
We die, as the violets died; -
Blossom, clouding all the tree
With thy crimson broidery,
Long before a leaf of green
On the bravest bough is seen; -
Ah! when winter winds are swinging
All thy red bells into ringing,
With a bee in every bell,
Almond bloom, we greet thee well.
poem by Edwin Arnold
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Discontent
Winter of discontentment
I fear my almond tree has bloomed too early, a few good days,
it and I thought it was spring. Cold wind, they may die before
the flowers are ready to shed their petals and pretend its snow.
We are both stalwarts, when I first came here it was but
a sapling. I have a fire roaring and the dog no one looks after
is sleeping on the chair near the fire. Weather bad I didn’t have
the heart to leave it outside. I’m not prince Charles I don’t talk
to trees, but I do give it a friendly slap on its trunk if no one is
looking. I’m a sucker for down and outs, today I bought a chicken
dinner for the Roma woman who begs outside the supermarket.
A guard came and told me I mustn’t feed them, like they should
be some sort of animals. I love my almond tree it reminds me
of mother when she was sick and old, but beautiful in her frailty.
There was little I could do only tell of my love for her.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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The Almond (In Answer To A.E. Housman)
Prettier, more pure white
than the cherry tree,
is the almond to me, when she
flowers in spring
spreading her wedding cloak,
while a thousand birds sing
in a vast welcoming
and no little tree sprite
in her branches roam
like they do in the giant oak,
but birds do their chattering.
poem by Gert Strydom
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People throw stones at the almond tree only because it bears almonds!
Portuguese proverbs, translated by Dan Costinaș
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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Crazy - a Filk Song
Yes. I. Am. Crazy crazy crazy and I’m winter
I wear the blacks and whites and reds and greens and blue.
They. Say. You're. Crazy crazy crazy and I love you
And now I’m wond’ring just exactly what to do.
They say the crazy ones are always, somehow, better.
They say I’m crazy. Well how about you?
I say the people who can say that they are crazy
Give me the crazies and I don’t know what to do!
They. Say. You’re. Crazy crazy crazy and you love me!
‘Cause I wear blacks and whites and reds and greens and blue.
Yes. I. Am. Crazy crazy crazy and I love you!
And now I know that you are crazy for me too!
poem by S. Amina Sackinger
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Lily In One Hand
The frong jumps into the water and,
The tadpole swims with joy!
But, how was it when you first made love?
Give me my medicine and i will tell you the truth,
Give me the roses of love and i will tell you the past,
Give me the peace of the mind and i will tell you the future;
For sex to some people is like taking tea daily!
Whether they are married or not,
Whether they are in love or not,
So learn how to plant a cocoa tree at the rigt time,
For broad is the way that leads to hell!
The sun for the blacks and the cold for the whites,
Summer for the blacks and winter for the whites,
But, what are people suppose to do in heaven?
For the great wine is now on the table.
Misruled by kings,
Misruled by queens,
Misruled by rulers,
Living in a foll's regime;
But the earth fades away,
And i will blossom like a lily.
You have tasted the flowers of her love,
But i will shine like a star!
And like an olive tree in the land of joy! !
But in plausible situation,
The trees of her garden are what attracted you!
A man 46 marries a 20 year old lady,
The difference is 26;
A man 58 marries a 32 year old lady,
The difference is 26;
A man 43 marries a 17 year old lady,
The difference is 26;
And they all ate the food of love!
But, a nude woman bestrides a lion with a lily in one hand.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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My heart is
My heart is like a almond tree,
with snow white
flowers in spring.
My heart is like a loerie bird,
that teases life
from a fruit tree
My heart is like a rainbow’s beam
that appears with the last drops
over the country side.
All of these things are vague
like morning fog,
compared to the happiness
that you bring to me.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Because of love
I became an almond tree
Ugly in winters
Come spring I wear pink flowers
And feel ever so artistic
tanka by Oskar Hansen
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Cultivated Is My Valley
Cultivated Is My Valley
Peaceful is the landscape and the lane that meanders
amongst olive trees, stone walls neatly divide the land
a bit for everyone, but not enough to make you rich.
Here dogs only bark at night have cowardly, yellow eyes
there is no wolf left in these subjugated canines.
In Stockholm when spring comes ice shards fall off roof
tops, split brains in half, gore on snow. On paradise
islands too one has to look out for falling coco- nuts
they can so easily kill a man; but here, in my valley, only
petals of the almond tree flower fall.
Birdsongs and breeze that caresses olive trees, now that’s
peace, ok, so should I not be happy as I contemplate
a carob tree? I see a woman bending down, weeding her
potato field, clouds on the sky are as soft as the mustachio
on a Romanian girl’s upper lip. All this herald peace so
why shouldn’t I be happy, when seeing a flock of cows
with full udders ready to be milked at five? Yet I dream of
galloping horses on the pampas of Argentine, flying mane,
flaring nostrils. This place I tell myself lacks passion, it’s
too tame, or is it me that has been restrained by age?
poem by Oskar Hansen
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