Three Intimations
My tree is still bare
though tender
buds flare.
The mockingbirds know.
They fall on robins,
fiercely cawing.
White cranes rise,
face the sun,
and flash fire.
poem by Steven Federle
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My Lady Is Compared To A Young Tree
When I see a young tree
In its white beginning,
With white leaves
And white buds
Barely tipped with green,
In the April weather,
In the weeping sunshine—
Then I see my lady,
My democratic queen,
Standing free and equal
With the youngest woodland sapling
Swaying, singing in the wind,
Delicate and white:
Soul so near to blossom,
Fragile, strong as death;
A kiss from far-off Eden,
A flash of Judgment's trumpet—
April's breath.
poem by Vachel Lindsay
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Marguerite
MASSACHUSETTS BAY, 1760.
THE robins sang in the orchard, the buds into
blossoms grew;
Little of human sorrow the buds and the robins
knew!
Sick, in an alien household, the poor French
neutral lay;
Into her lonesome garret fell the light of the April
day,
Through the dusty window, curtained by the spider's
warp and woof,
On the loose-laid floor of hemlock, on oaken ribs
of roof,
The bedquilt's faded patchwork, the teacups on the
stand,
The wheel with flaxen tangle, as it dropped from
her sick hand.
What to her was the song of the robin, or warm
morning light,
As she lay in the trance of the dying, heedless of
sound or sight?
Done was the work of her bands, she had eaten her
bitter bread;
The world of the alien people lay behind her dim
and dead.
But her soul went back to its child-time; she saw
the sun o'erflow
With gold the Basin of Minas, and set over
Gaspereau;
The low, bare flats at ebb-tide, the rush of the sea
at flood,
Through inlet and creek and river, from dike to
upland wood;
The gulls in the red of morning, the fish-hawk's
rise and fall,
The drift of the fog in moonshine, over the dark
coast-wall.
She saw the face of her mother, she heard the song
she sang;
And far off, faintly, slowly, the bell for vespers
rang.
By her bed the hard-faced mistress sat, smoothing
the wrinkled sheet,
Peering into the face, so helpless, and feeling the
ice-cold feet.
With a vague remorse atoning for her greed and
long abuse,
By care no longer heeded and pity too late for use.
Up the stairs of the garret softly the son of the
mistress stepped,
Leaned over the head-board, covering his face with
his hands, and wept.
Outspake the mother, who watched him sharply,
with brow a-frown
'What! love you the Papist, the beggar, the
charge of the town?'
Be she Papist or beggar who lies here, I know
and God knows
I love her, and fain would go with her wherever
she goes!
'O mother! that sweet face came pleading, for
love so athirst.
You saw but the town-charge; I knew her God's
angel at first.'
Shaking her gray head, the mistress hushed down
a bitter cry;
And awed by the silence and shadow of death
drawing nigh,
She murmured a psalm of the Bible; but closer
the young girl pressed,
With the last of her life in her fingers, the cross
to her breast.
'My son, come away,' cried the mother, her voice
cruel grown.
'She is joined to her idols, like Ephraim; let her
alone!'
But he knelt with his hand on her forehead, his
lips to her ear,
And he called back the soul that was passing
'Marguerite, do you hear?'
She paused on the threshold of Heaven; love, pity,
surprise,
Wistful, tender, lit up for an instant the cloud of
her eyes.
With his heart on his lips he kissed her, but never
her cheek grew red,
And the words the living long for he spake in the
ear of the dead.
And the robins sang in the orchard, where buds to
blossoms grew;
Of the folded hands and the still face never the
robins knew!
poem by John Greenleaf Whittier
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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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Tree by the Road
A naked tree
stands apart.
Cars pass
with freeway speed
bending thin branches
in their own furious wind.
Slowing
I see black leaves
on nearly empty limbs…
No, not leaves,
but dark pears,
or glass balls left to fall
from a forgotten Christmas tree
abandoned, alone, without cheer,
when, roaring, an eighteen wheeler
spews misty twisters.
Then leaves, ornaments, and pears
all rise in a singular mass
of flashing black wings
cawing into the
grey winter
air.
poem by Steven Federle
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Tender
tender is the heart, that tosses and turns
tender is the heart that wants to learn
tender is the heart that you see
tender are the hearts of you and me
tenderly i look in your eyes
tenderly i see the fire rise
tenderly i touch your face
tenderly i feel your embrace
your love has fallen into a tender touch
and that is the reason i love you so much.
now with all the tenderness i give
i know that our love will live.
poem by Louis Rams
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The Burnt Child
Matches among other things that were not allowed
never would be
lying high in a cool blue box
that opened in other hands and there they all were
bodies clean and smooth blue heads white crowns
white sandpaper on the sides of the box scoring
fire after fire gone before
I could hear the scratch and flare
when they were over
and catch the smell of the striking
I knew what the match would feel like
lighting
when I was very young
a fire engine came and parked
in the shadow of the big poplar tree
of Fourth Street one night
keeping its engine running
pumping oxygen to the old woman
in the basement
when she died the red lights went on burning
poem by William Stanley Merwin
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The timetable of four
The golden glows of sunlight hit me
The smell of freshly cut grass reached me
The sight of freedom exhilarated me
The sounds of birds intrigued me
The beauty around me radiated from everything
The long open stretches of grass
The shady woodlands going on and on
The unending number of livening creatures
The cawing raven in the tree branches
The worm busily digging in the soil
The fish swimming idly in the pond
The child playing happily in the park
It is summer now but soon it will change
Soon it will change
Soon it will change into Autumn
I’ll still be in my tree
The children are playing in the heaps of leaves
The leaves have all gone a golden colour
The ravens are searching for bugs in the leaves
The fish are swimming slower in their pond
It is Autumn now but it will soon change
Soon it will change
Soon it will change into Winter
I’ll still be in my tree
There are no children playing
There are no leaves on the trees
The ravens have all gone south
There are no fish in the pond
It is Winter now but it will soon change
It will soon change
It will soon change into spring
I’ll still be in my tree
The children are starting to come back
The ravens are backing cawing in the trees
There is new fish in the pond
There are new buds on the trees
It is Spring now but soon it will change
Soon it will change
Soon it will change into Summer
I’ll still be in my tree
Waiting
Watching
Writing
Thinking
Sun Rise The Mood Fall
sun rise each morring your a wake each moring
the moon fall dialy but when it become mide night
the moon rise and the sun fall
when moon rise it set a upon your face
the sun glow upon your face with your eyes glow like the ocean
in the moring where didi the moon go
sun rise up when you read for the day to star and
the moon fall down the sun is king
the mood rise once aging when it night
SUN RISE THE MOON FALL
poem by Julisw Kelley
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Autumn Blitz
I stared in silent wonder,
As autumn rolled in like thunder-
And in a lightening's flash,
Started my world on fire!
The trees burned brightly in,
Sunset and smokey grey hues-
The leaves lept down from the trees,
And quickly spread the news!
The wind whistled through the woods,
And swept the ground-
And wailed!
It tickled the grass,
And seized the leaves-
And up!
And away, they sailed!
Leafy flames,
Of vibrant flare-
Lept up here!
And, over there!
The fire,
It stripped the trees-
Leaving them cold,
And bare!
Then the wind,
It hummed...
And the fire,
It died down.
All of nature,
Was now beautifully crowned.
The wind-
It let out a sigh,
It shuddered-
Then it died.
There was heared no sound,
For the fire had passed.
No hint of it,
Was left to last-
But the embers which blanketed the floor.
poem by Macy Dvirnak
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Bare-Limbed Tree
summer gone to dog days,
autumn approaches on a
strange wind....
i long to watch the leaves turn,
and fall, tiny love stories
that no one else can see.
and the sound the bare-limbed
tree makes... reaching for the sky,
reaching through winter for
the spring....
the smell of woodsmoke,
coffee and brandy by the fire...
a thousand memories turned
to brown, lost to eternal moments,
i am that bare-limbed tree!
reaching for the sky, reaching
for another spring.... reaching
through death, reaching for you!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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You Are Always Electrifying
by the simple touch of your fingers
accidental intimacy like bumping on the street
and then quickly
parting ways like you don't know me and i do not know you
this pretense of strength
of white cranes suddenly in motion to the skies
as i clap my hands near the lushing cogon grass
oh they fly, oh they fly like white pebbles thrown to the sea
and then they are gone
i get electrified the moment i see you
(how can i ever tell you about
this secret that grows like a cancerous mole on my face?)
sizzling simply sizzling this feeling
of loving with the loved one not knowing anything
why flowers bloom and then die
why the leaves are falling
the white cranes in the rice fields this June
oh how they flap and fly like white pebbles thrown to the sea
perfect flight of silent love
my eyes are so delighted
my heart sings
it has never known how to scream
in silence i gaze at you and then you walk away
the street where you walk narrows down like a throat choking
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Tender Only To One
Tender only to one
Tender and true
The petals swing
To my fingering
Is it you, or you, or you?
Tender only to one
I do not know his name
And the friends who fall
To the petals’ call
May think my love to blame.
Tender only to one
This petal holds a clue
The face it shows
But too well knows
Who I am tender to.
Tender only to one,
Last petal’s latest breath
Cries out aloud
From the icy shroud
His name, his name is Death.
poem by Stevie Smith
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The Pan Of Sorrows
I will give you the grain of tears,
Roast my sorrows in your pan,
O, tender of the fire.
Tender of the fire, branch of magnolia,
Roast my sorrows in your pan.
I am late already,
The shadows are fading,
The cattle have returned,
From the forest.
The birds have raised their clamor.
Roast my sorrows in your pan,
Tender of the fire.
Hurry, be quick,
I have far to go,
To the place
Where my companions have gone.
I have heard the road to that town is difficult
Roast my sorrows in your pan.
Tender of the fire.
When my turn comes,
Your bale of kindling is damp.
Why has your earthen pan
Become flaccid?
What has gone wrong with your fire?
Roast my sorrows in your pan.
Tender of the fire.
Mine is just a handful of grains,
Roast them, and let me go on my way,
Don't leave them raw,
Roast them well.
I beg you, bring an end to this wrangling,
Roast my sorrows in your pan.
Tender of the fire.
The wind has dropped,
Its mournful weeping ended.
A sweet heat
Is rising in the stars.
My breaths are like a marriage procession
Whose bridegroom is displeased.
Roast my sorrows in your pan.
O tender of the fire.
Tender of the fire, branch of magnolia,
Roast my sorrows in your pan.
poem by Shiv Kumar Batalvi
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This Day
I feel foolish,
like those silly robins jumping on the ditch boughs
when I run by them.
Those robins do not have the grand style of the red tailed hawk,
no design, no dream, just robins acting stupid.
They've never smoked cigarettes, drank whiskey, consumed drugs
as I have.
In their mindless
fluttering about
filled with nonsense,
they tell me how they
love the Great Spirit,
scold me not to be self-pitying,
to open my life
and make this day a bough on a tree
leaning over infinity, where eternity flows forward
and with day the river runs
carrying all that falls in it.
Be happy Jimmy, they chirp,
Jimmy, be silly, make this day a tree
leaning over the river eternity
and fuss about in its branches.
poem by Jimmy Santiago Baca
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A Baby Running Barefoot
When the bare feet of the baby beat across the grass
The little white feet nod like white flowers in the wind,
They poise and run like ripples lapping across the water;
And the sight of their white play among the grass
Is like a little robin’s song, winsome,
Or as two white butterflies settle in the cup of one flower
For a moment, then away with a flutter of wings.
I long for the baby to wander hither to me
Like a wind-shadow wandering over the water,
So that she can stand on my knee
With her little bare feet in my hands,
Cool like syringa buds,
Firm and silken like pink young peony flowers.
poem by David Herbert Lawrence
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Flash (Flash's theme)
Flash - Ah - Saviour of the universe
Flash - Ah - He'll save ev'ry one of us
Seemingly there is no reason for these
Extraordinary intergalactical upsets (ha ha ha)
What's happening Flash?
Only Dr Hans Zarkov formerly at N A S A
Has provided any explanation
Flash - Ah - He's a miracle
This mornings unprecedented solar eclipse
Is no cause for alarm
Flash - Ah - King of the impossible
He's for ev'ry one of us
Stand for ev'ry one of us
He'll save with a mighty hand
Ev'ry man ev'ry woman ev'ry child
With a mighty Flash
General Kaka Flash Gordon approaching
What do you mean Flash Gordon approaching?
Open fire all weapons
Dispatch war rocket Ajax to bring back his body
Flash - Ah
Gordon's alive
Flash - Ah - He'll save ev'ry one of us
Just a man with a man's courage
He knows nothing but a man
But he can never fail
No one but the pure in heart
May find the golden grail oh oh oh oh
Flash Flash I love you
But we only have fourteen hours to save the Earth
Flash
song performed by by Queen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Contemplating About Home
the night has not befriended me
and so i walk alone down Jones Street
under faded lights of dawn
tall posts,
under the narra tree
two boys are sleeping holding on to their
bare hands
to keep themselves warm as the cold air
keeps on blowing
an old man counts his steps
using a cane
manages to take a farther walk towards
Fuente Osmena
jaywalks much to the aghast
of taxi drivers when the traffic lights
turn green
a newspaper vendor is repairing his bicycle
leaving his morning papers
frightened on the road
a white dog tied to a post
of this fruit stand keeps on barking at me
the woman that owns it shouts 'shoo! shoo! '
i am perhaps a stranger lost
to her view
the month of June is opening buds of the fire tree
inside the fenced grounds of a mental institution
of this city
as i contemplate of my early plane trip
towards home
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Rise Or Fall
Take action
Gotta raise a fist in blood
Domination
Can't continue acting like jerks
You show me all there's a chance
With only words for defence
There is no freedom to speak, no
Rise or fall
Number one to take the stand
Rise or fall
Take a word from this promised land
Yeah
Your reaction
Sticks and stones are no match for steel
This rebellion
Revolution's in your hands
Now listen
So it's part Apache
Do you know what that means?
Is it a segregation?
Rise or fall
Number one to take the stand
Rise or fall
Take a word from this promised land
Strength in numbers can alter your place
Take the action before it's too late
Make a stand
Give it up
Rise or fall
Number one to take the stand
Rise or fall
Take a word from this promised land
Rise or fall
Number one to take the stand
Rise or fall
Take a word
Take a word from this land
Rise or fall
Rise or fall
song performed by by Quiet Riot
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Trees
I Tthink that I shall never see
A poem lovely as a tree.
A tree whose hungry mouth is prest
Against the sweet earth's flowing breast;
A tree that looks at God all day,
And lifts her leafy arms to pray;
A tree that may in summer wear
A nest of robins in her hair;
Upon whose bosom snow has lain;
Who intimately lives with rain.
Poems are made by fools like me,
But only God can make a tree.
poem by Joyce Kilmer
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Flash
Words and music by brian may
Flash - ah - saviour of the universe
Flash - ah - he'll save ev'ry one of us
Seemingly there is no reason for these
Extraordinary intergalactical upsets (ha ha ha)
What's happening flash?
Only dr hans zarkov formerly at n a s a
Has provided any explanation
Flash - ah - he's a miracle
This mornings unprecedented solar eclipse
Is no cause for alarm
Flash - ah - king of the impossible
He's for ev'ry one of us
Stand for ev'ry one of us
He'll save with a mighty hand
Ev'ry man ev'ry woman ev'ry child
With a mighty flash
General kaka flash gordon approaching
What do you mean flash gordon approaching?
Open fire all weapons
Dispatch war rocket ajax to bring back his body
Flash - ah
Gordon's alive
Flash - ah - he'll save ev'ry one of us
Just a man with a man's courage
He knows nothing but a man
But he can never fail
No one but the pure in heart
May find the golden grail oh oh oh oh
Flash flash i love you
But we only have fourteen hours to save the earth
Flash
song performed by by Queen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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