I'm An Old Tree
Here is my beloved home
I'm an old tree
I grew up here
Here's where I belong
Here's the only place
Where I can face
In rough human race
Inspite of all difficulties and aches
Still I'm standing here
Here I've planted love seeds
I'm like an old trees
Don't take me off my root
My branches revive and sigh here
Since thousands and thousands of years
I'm an old tree that's living here
Inside these fields I've grew old
My branches and my leaves
Once they've born here
The only place they've been
How can I leave
I have memories here
All my childhood years
My desires and all my dreams
Are planted right here within
These fields I've born and ill live in
poem by Sossi Khachadourian
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The Happiness Tree
someone has planted the happiness tree
with branches so strong with roots heavenly
its buds they grew rich and its leaves they grew wild
it grew in the wind where the children all smiled
its bark it was rich and it enriched each new day
the birds of the heavens nested inside its bay
where the spring buds burst daily
for each new spring brides day
the happiness tree offered sustenance and cheer
with ornamental blossoms that changed through the years
its growth was like succor to the robins that sang
whilst its strength was its beauty
a joy to behold when they stretched out their lungs
it grew in the woods amongst the sparrows and toads
the tramps slept beneath its branches so fine i am told
away from damp and the ground there so cold
whist the ducks they did paddle
amongst the owls and the swine
the happiness tree offered a haven at best
for lonesome night travelers n need of some rest
it welcomed the sun and occasional rains
though it smiled on the poor
plus those lost in pain
the happiness tree grew in the dales
its vision was welcoming to the moss and the fells
the squirrels ran amok there amidst its terrains
whilst the chorus of blackbirds sang their refrains
the happiness tree was destined to grow
with its welcoming branches and strong roots below
surrounded by grass and the meadows of morn
it offered a sanctuary to all natures new born
Dads Cherry Tree
There was a large cherry tree in my yard
This tree t’was my dad ‘s favorite
And as the cherry tree grew up to thy sky
He did have a decision
whether or not to chop the tree down
Or risk it falling and killing him
For you see this old cherry tree did
Stand right over his bed
So if the wind kick up or lightning did strike
Would be his end for
The tree would fall and he would go
So unfortunately with the tree
So he would make great decision
And hopefully make it right
It took him many years and many a time
He thought’s the did spite
Him for the year’s went by and the cherry tree
Got more demised, nearer to the bed
As he would lay and begin to wonder
Will this take off my head
So as the year the did expire
Then He finally said
I will take the old tree down
Above my own bed
And the so alas the cherry fell
The tree would breathe its last
And be cut down to stump and be
Safe for dad once again
The tree was made low and the branches did go
Right into the meat smoker
But out of the ash cloud grew another
through the thorns and choker
the tree did live on in another a tree that grew
and so the tree was reborn
from a cherry, the trees great fruit
and so this little sapling grew and it grew
and it grew 1,2,3 foot by the crowing of the year
and so it grew and it got taller
as a little sapling then might or would do
and the tree got no smaller
as it grew to be as tall as dad and it was
staring him in the eye
he said we got to dig this up
look at the size
for you see the little sapling was right in my garden
and blocking the sunshine
so we dug and dug and dug
it took a lot of time
but finally we got up pulled it out of the ground
and moved to better spot
were it would live in peace and harmony
the place we set was not to hot
But it was not to cold either, it was
It was a nice spot with all
of the tree for the young cherry’s company
the tree grew very tall
And with it happy position that there was
it was a great sight
To see this cherry tree again live
And never have to fight
Now when my dad he did see this
he was so overjoyed
He had his cherry tree’s son and offspring
And never again did he toy
With planting or cutting down old cherry trees
He loved his tree so dear
That he would be indeed collecting all the cherries
And never wrong was he steered
poem by Timothy Young
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When I was only three I planted a tree
When I was three I planted a tree. This was my tree and together we would always be. I gave it love and it to me, and so we were happy, me and my tree.
Then one day they came to see me and my tree. Men with no faces, and they said to me, you must go, and leave this tree.
Buy why I ask. For we've done no harm. Me and my tree, please let us be.
So they left us alone, me and my tree, but only for a while but I could not see.
Then one day they came and took me away. My tree was needed to save the day. Goods it will make it makes perfect sense. So we will take this tree, for wood we need. And so it was done, they took my tree.
And now I look around, my tree I no longer see. Taken from, this tree I planted when I was three.
poem by Brad Milner
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The Little Tree
A very faithful farmer,
Planted a small seed,
Where in a distant field,
It grew into a tree.
This tree had leaves of laughter,
As it rustled in the wind,
Its sound of many whispers,
Were voices of many friends.
Its branches were far reaching,
Its limbs, like little hands,
That touched the lives of many,
As it grew upon the land.
Its flowers bloomed in sunshine,
-They were countless little smiles,
That offered joy to others,
If but only for a while.
For the Farmer who was helping,
His little tree grow tall,
Knew of a better orchard,
The best one of them all.
Se he placed His hands around the tree,
And lifted it with care,
He took it to an orchard,
Where He himself was near.
The tree had all the sunshine,
Its leaves were there to stay,
Its flowers bloomed in happiness,
Every single day.
The Farmer loved the little tree,
Far more than people knew,
Now it lives forever,
In our hearts and Heaven too.
-In loving memory of Charles McMichael
poem by Jean Penner
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Tree
I know, my tree won't live any a week,
I know, my tree in that city is sentenced to death.
But I am all time with it:
I'm tired of all the other affairs,
I think, that it is my house here,
I think it to be my close friend.
I planted a tree.
I know, that pupil could break my tree tomorrow.
I know, my tree will leave me certainly.
But in the time, when it is living, I'm sitting closely,
I feel a great joy, and pain also.
I think it to be my world.
I think it to be my son, indeed.
I had planted the tree.
song, lyrics by Victor Tsoi, translated by Lyudmila Purgina
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Little Seeds
The little seeds that were planted
within our childhood spring
make us what we are today
and sometimes make our words sing.
The little seeds that germinated
as years passed and we grew
while in our youth they budded
before our experiences made them flower.
The little seeds of our childhood spring
that blossomed in our adult summer
to radiate even more brightly
in our autumn years.
poem by David Harris
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The Seeds Of War
When the seeds of war are sown,
hardly is it ever known
who has planted it
and what for?
Was it about
blood and gore?
When the seeds of war take root
it's hidden reasons make us mute.
Why was it planted
and by whom?
Was its purpose
doom and gloom?
When the seeds of war are grown
never is it ever shown
how it is planted
in men's mind?
How it's made them
all so blind.
When the seeds of war do thrive
many will not be alive.
They'll be planted
in false graves.
These seeds propel
how the world behaves.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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A Day In The Life Of A Tree
Feel the wind burn through my skin
The pain, the air is killing me
For years my limbs stretched to the sky
A nest for birds to sit and sing
But now my branches suffer
And my leaves dont bear the glow
They did so long ago
One day I was full of life
My sap was rich and I was strong
From seed to tree I grew so tall
Through wind and rain I could not fall
But now my branches suffer
And my leaves dont offer
Poetry to men of song
Trees like me werent meant to live
If all this world can give
Pollution and slow death
Oh lord I lay me down
No lifes left to be found
Theres nothing left for me
Trees like me werent meant to live
If all this earth can give
Is pollution
Trees like me werent meant to live
(oh lord I lay me down)
If all this earth can give
(my branches to the ground)
Is pollution and slow death
(theres nothing left for me)
Oh lord I lay me down
My branches to the ground
Theres nothing left for me
song performed by by Beach Boys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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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Dear Friend
Dear friend,
Today I turn the pages of our memories
Those laughter and tears
That we have shared for more many years
Those secrets that we hide
Underneath the cherry tree
These photographs I held, and
I used to smile every time I looked at them
Dear friend,
I've been to the place were we first met
It’s the same old, and new, nothing has changed
Like an old book with precious stories
Every page has a wonderful thing to say
Like a laughter that remains on air
They’re sounds music in my ear
A symphony of our yesterday
Dear friend,
I plow our memories that blanket by autumn leaves
On this mango tree
And its branches look so droopy
But there’s a last leaf-standing firm on a trunk
That forgotten, as the time goes by
Like this friendship buried from the shadow of past
Thou I know it will never last
Dear friend,
Remember the summer skies
Those butterflies that landed in our hands
The kites that we ever flew
In these green fields of our childhood memory
We were children once before
When the trees were tall and we were small
And now we are tall and the trees fall
Dear friend,
Autumn was come
And the leaves started to fall
I can’t count the hours, how long I've stood here
Waiting for your presence
That you have promised you will come
The wind whistle like your soft voice
I feel the heavenly touch on my face
Dear friend,
You never told me that you are leaving
Together with the clouds that passed by
Together with the angels that flew into the sky
Like the waters that flow freely back to the sea
Like a wind that danced on its own
But your soul still live inside of me
You will always be my special memory
Dear friend,
I wrote you a letter sealed with my tears
Saying take care, I miss our funny deeds
Id rather be sad
And my heart is in grief
But somehow I’ll be happy then
That once in my life I had you as my friend
Dear friend, you will always be my best friend
poem by Cheryl Aldea
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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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Watch My Steps
Dig around it and fertilize it with love,
And like the fig tree planted in the vineyard of love;
But the heat came in because of the wind!
And like the south wind blowing around you.
Dig, big, fig, nig, pig, cig, jig, rig, wig;
For three years i have benn searching for the fruit of your love,
But try to watch my steps to understand my muse;
And like butter given to the women in your town at last.
With hope to climb to the top,
With love to care for you,
With my mind to be at the right place always,
But i will still search for you;
Because you are like a tree planted by the river of waters!
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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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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A Seeds A Star/tree Medley
Were a people black as is your night
Born to spread ammas eternal light
Which since time began
Has been to bring truth to every man
Our ancestors have since long ago
Passed their wisdom down so we to know
For here lies the key
That will help unfold the mistery
A seeds a star
A seeds a stars a seed
A stars a seed
A stars a seeds a star
In myself I do contain
The elements of sun and rain
First a seed with roots that swell
I gradually burst through my shell
Pushing down into the ground
The root of me is homeward bound
A trunk, a leaf and there I am
A miracle of least by far
Tree - you are the longest living one we know
The largest of all plants and still you grow
Tree - within your branches theres such history
So much of what were searching for to know
Every fifty years we celebrate
Po tolo, our star, as it rotates
Though infinitely small
It is still the heaviest of them all
(background)
A seeds a star
A seeds a stars a seed
A stars a seed
A stars a seeds a star
A seeds a star
A seeds a stars a seed
A stars a seed
A stars a seeds a star
(background-simultaneous)
Ye lolo de ye
Lolo ye kesse de ye
Kesse ye lolo de ye
Lolo ye kesse de ye
Kesse ye lolo de ye
Lolo ye kesse de ye
Kesse ye lolo de ye
Lolo ye kesse de ye
And some believe antennas are their leaves
That spans beyond our galaxy
Theyve been, they are and probably will be
Who are the mediocrity
song performed by by Stevie Wonder
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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To His Two Children
In the land of Wu the mulberry leaves are green,
And thrice the silkworms have gone to sleep.
In East Luh where my family stay,
I wonder who is sowing those fields of ours.
I cannot be back in time for the spring doings,
Yet I can help nothing, traveling on the river.
The south wind blowing wafts my homesick spirit
And carries it up to the front of our familiar tavern.
There I see a peach tree on the east side of the house
With thick leaves and branches waving in the blue mist.
It is the tree I planted before my parting three years ago.
The peach tree has grown now as tall as the tavern roof,
While I have wandered about without returning.
Ping-yang, my pretty daughter, I see you stand
By the peach tree and pluck a flowering branch.
You pluck the flowers, but I am not there
How your tears flow like a stream of water!
My little son, Po-chin, grown up to your sister's shoulders,
You come out with her under the peach tree,
But who is there to pat you on the back?
When I think of these things, my senses fail,
And a sharp pain cuts my heart every day.
Now I tear off a piece of white silk to write this letter,
And send it to you with my love a long way up the river.
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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A tree grows in Avignon
Planted by a Soldiers hand,
She slept, while Europe blazed.
Bore silence through winters cull,
Captured in darkness, there to laze
Amongst the ruins of Avignon
Freed by the spring,
Guarded by the sun
Born in thunders drench
A seedling of hope for Avignon
Gave witness to unjust death,
Found her strength in summer’s breath.
Drank the blood of murders shame,
Grew fertile, her innocence to bear
Seduced by the bees of Avignon
Gave birth, to temptation
Casting forth her gift,
Amongst the ruin,
While Children played, in her boughs.
A new beginning, the bad forgotten
Healing the scars of Avignon
Taken confession, the old to cleanse,
Listened to love,
Their dreams to mend
Sheltered the lost, from Natures eye
Watched children grow,
And the old men die,
For she is the spirit of Avignon
Planted by a soldiers hand,
When dark clouds gathered
A place of love, redemption tethered
To forget the war
And find his wife
A tree of Life for Avignon
Time moves on.
The soul returns,
And still she grows.
Anonymous to a stranger’s eye,
A cathedral of hope, a grannies smile
A tree of home
A tree that set us free,
That tree that saved my Avignon.
poem by Steven Cooke
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No Christmas Tree Where It Should Be
A Christmas tree! A Christmas tree!
With dark green needled memories
Of childhood dreams and mysteries
Wrapped present-like in front of me.
A Christmas tree! A Christmas tree!
I glimpse a past wherein i see
The child that then grew into me
Not forward fast but haltingly.
A Christmas tree! A Christmas tree!
A time for being with family
A time that's gone so fleetingly
Yet lives for always deep in me.
A Christmas tree! A Christmas tree!
When twelfth night comes whole hauntingly
One lingered look and then i see
No Christmas tree where it would be.
A Christmas tree! A Christmas tree!
With feelings now felt tearfully
No home, no kids surrounding me
No corner in my house to see
The magic of that Christmas tree.
poem by David Keig
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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.
The boy and the apple tree
Once there was a boy who used to play under an apple tree
He played so happily that it was a joy to see
As he grew old, he got bore of playing alone
Toys and gadgets he desired to be his own
So, under the apple tree the boy muttered
‘Tree can you give me toys I now desire? ’
‘Toys I don’t have, my boy, ’ the tree replied
‘But my fruits you can sell to get your toys.’
So the boy took the fruits and went away
The tree waited for his return day after day
Many years had passed and the boy got older
He married a girl to be his wife and lover
The adult boy now needing a new house for his family
Went to the tree and asked for its advice earnestly
The tree glad to see him once again said
‘My branches will be sufficient to make your nest.’
To these words the adult boy listened
And took all the branches away with him
With these he constructed a house for his family
Where he lived for several years happily
One day, the boy now a fully mature adult thought
‘It will be wise to travel around and sail the sea across’
So, he went to the now old apple tree and asked
‘Tree, can you tell me, a boat, where I can get? ’
The tree which was happy to see him again sighed and said
‘Though I am old, my stem you may take if you want’
On hearing this, the guy cut the tree down
And made a large boat, which was fine and strong
Many years had passed and the guy now became an old man
Tired from his adventures across the sea and land
He went and saw the apple tree once again
Which was now but a stump nobody would want
The old stump on seeing the old man cried
‘My old boy what can I do for you this time’
The old man on hearing this softly replied
‘I just want to lean against you till the end of my life.’
poem by Henry Chen
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