En.Citatepedia^®.ro

Why Scars So Many, Coconut Tree?

Why scars so many
all over the trunk
of coconut tree?

O..those are the parting kisses
buried deep on its bosom
by its children hugging close
when death pulls them apart
with its browny grasp!

poem by Sundaram Chandrakalaadhar
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Marula tree trunk

Strong winds blow against the Marula tree trunk,
They come with miscellaneous objects,
Light and heavy,
And use them to break the Marula tree trunk,
But nothing happens to the Marula tree trunk,

Light and heavy rains come,
The Marula tree smiles,
For the plentiful rain water will make
It stronger and taller,

Animals come and sleep under and on top
Of the Marula tree,
Lean and rub their itching bodies
Against the Marula tree trunk,
Relieve themselves against it,
But nothing happens to the Marula tree trunk,

The human race use the Marula tree for shade
Against the merciless summer heat of the Limpopo sun,
And eat or make beer with Marula,
But, alas! One vicious human being returned,
And chopped it,
Off goes the faithless Marula tree trunk,
To be scorched by the everlasting home burning fires.

poem by Niki Nicholas Nkuna
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Stronger

See my scars,
See my wounds,
All over the place
Far from perfect;

...Just like everyone.

Cracks and wrinkles
Run all over
Like the trunk of a tree;
Like any tree in any forest,
Battered by rain and wind.

Baby days long lost
Cheated away by the world;
The frost who kills and steals
From every tree and every forest,
But my roots run deep,
Deep in my father's womb
And my leaves are not blind
Fed by the Sun above...

I shall live.
Day, or night,
Stronger with every storm-
Like how it has always been.

Wilson Khor W.H. @ Seymour Nightweaver

poem by Wilson Khor Woo Han
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That Knows

the face in the mirror,
grows darker with time...
deep and grainy,
weathered and beaten.
the trunk of an old tree,
where birds hide their nests,
and squirrels meet to plot
the downfall of man.
hollowed and sketched,
with dignity unspoken,
the scars of love and wars,
where insects breed and whisper.
and time itself,
bows in awe and respect,
for the tree that knows
itself to be a tree!

poem by Eric Cockrell
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Destiny

(for estrella dy-imperial on her death anniversary)

under the tall coconut trees
you warned all of us
to watch out

you had not finished
saying the warning
when suddenly a coconut
fell off the tree
and hit you right
in the middle of your
forehead

dead on the spot
t'was you

we were speechless
unable to believe

how death sometimes
strikes

the most careful creature
still wanting to be
alive.....

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Day Like This

it was such a lovely day
like this
sunny and hot
in a day like this
in flower fragrance
bright and glittering
your kisses changed
my bosom
sworn not to kiss
sealed for kisses
itwas such a day like this
filled with bisrd singings
and happy children screamings
your returning
made my bosom a pair with yours
my bosom which was fed up with loneliness
and longing for you
it was such a lovely day
a day boring us with its yellow heat
when
i was in bare feet
walking on the roads
and impatiently waiting for you
it was sucha a lovely day
like this
your sudden death
has made me collapsed
and made me upset

Ferda BAYKAL
Translation Metin SAHIN

poem by Metin Sahin
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Alankar(Decor) -99

Coconut-ty Dream

Fatigued he slept under the coconut tree
Dreaming with usual self climbing up the tree
And in routine fear the tree shivered
And swayed wild unknowing itself to free

And he took out the sickle and severed
One by one the bunches dropped slivered
And lo, rested his soul up the tree
Lessoned not to die of a dream quivered

poem by Indira Renganathan
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Evening Coconut

The statue of liberty is breathing in the air
Atlantis is waiting down below.
Late at night, flashing lights are sighted in the air.
Its no secret, what everybody knows.
It really dont matter much, which way I go.
But remember to pull over in the storm.
Have you seen the evening coconut
Bobbing on the bay?
Standing on the waters edge of stone
Someone there besides you
To hear the words you say
To show you things your eyes have never known.
Evening coconut, evening coconut
Evening coconut, evening coconut
Evening coconut, evening coconut
Evening coconut, evening coconut
Evening coconut, evening coconut
The statue of liberty is breathing in the air
While atlantis is waiting down below.
Late at night, flashing lights are sighted in the air.
Its no secret, what everybody knows.
Evening coconut, evening coconut
Evening coconut, evening coconut
Evening coconut, evening coconut
Evening coconut, evening coconut

song performed by by Neil Young
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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On the Avenue

Male?
Female?
God doesn't care
about sex
& the long tree-shaded avenue
toward death.

God says
the worm is as beautiful
as the apple it eats
& the apple as lovely
as the thick trunk
of the tree,
& the trunk of the tree
no more beautiful
than the air
surrounding it.

God doesn't care
about the battle
between the sexes
with which we amuse ourselves
on our way toward death.

God says:
there are no sexes;
& still we amuse ourselves
arguing about whether or not
She is male
or He

female.

poem by Erica Jong
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Song of the Little White Girl

Cabbage tree, cabbage tree, what is the matter?
Why are you shaking so? Why do you chatter?
Because it is just a white baby you see,
And it's the black ones you like, cabbage tree?

Cabbage tree, cabbage tree, you're a strange fellow
With your green hair and your legs browny-yellow.
Wouldn't you like to have curls, dear, like me?
What! No one to make them? O poor cabbage tree!

Never mind, cabbage tree, when I am taller,
And if you grow, please, a little bit smaller,
I shall be able by that time, bay be,
To make you the loveliest curls, cabbage tree.

poem by Katherine Mansfield
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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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Links to Treasure

On your inverted hills we played
on your crooked grass
between two serpentine trees
that seemed to let us pass
How good was alteration
needle moving thread
ribbons hugging close the trunk
our treasure hides right there

poem by Boink Boink
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The Coconut

the tree of life
this coconut tree
leaves for the roof
midribs for the broom
its meat all around
from food to dessert
to cooking oil to
diesel and even
engine fuel

this coconut poem
shade for lovers
on the sandy beach
an imagery of breast
for sucking to
a man's zest,
a poet's quest
best, blessed

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Song. Translated From The German

Ah! grasp the dire dagger and couch the fell spear,
If vengeance and death to thy bosom be dear,
The dastard shall perish, death’s torment shall prove,
For fate and revenge are decreed from above.

Ah! where is the hero, whose nerves strung by youth,
Will defend the firm cause of justice and truth;
With insatiate desire whose bosom shall swell,
To give up the oppressor to judgement and Hell--

For him shall the fair one twine chaplets of bays,
To him shall each warrior give merited praise,
And triumphant returned from the clangour of arms,
He shall find his reward in his loved maiden's charms.

In ecstatic confusion the warrior shall sip,
The kisses that glow on his love's dewy lip,
And mutual, eternal, embraces shall prove,
The rewards of the brave are the transports of love.

OCTOBER, 1809.

poem by Percy Bysshe Shelley
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December Moon

Up the terrace down the sky
On my back as I lie
Splashes silvery flecks through the fronds
The coconut tree swaying in dulcet breeze

Up the hill and upon the sea
Yonder bliss all that we see
Stand will they in analogy
On this terrace with what I see

Launch of a round fulgent splotch
Haloed with a brace of hazy torch
This priceless coin of the night
The empyrean sphere treasures so bright

'The Luminous' flashing through the fronds
The fronds softly swaying in the winds
Darkened coconut tree peeping in the terrace
Displaying happily the gleaming luminance

Well, all I understand about her blemishes
Is all that it's Sun's kisses
And all my possible guess
Is all she so the other side hides

While there's a secrecy vincible
As 'Chidhambara rahasyam' possibly sensible
This charming December-queen is evincible
And her Lord of Betelguese is invincible

poem by Indira Renganathan
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There It Sat Uncracked

And there it sat...
Uncracked.
On a remote and isolated beach.
Seeking with wishes!
Screaming from the inside,
With its untouched juice and meat.

'Why doesn't anyone come to crack me?
I've been a good coconut!
Am I doomed to lay here forever untouched? '

Unheard are the pleas!

'If anyone there can hear me,
PLEASE crack me open.
I am here with untouched juice and meat! '

And the monkey...
Once a coconut freak,
But now...
Strickly into bananas,
As a preferred diet of choice to eat...
Settled down to nap.
High above in the palm tree!
With eyes dosing to a close!

'If anyone there can hear me,
PLEASE crack me open.
I am here with untouched juice and meat!
I've been a good coconut! '

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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My Love

SHE has tender eyes that tell
All her prim, set lips suppress—
Daring thoughts that ever dwell
Prisoned in her bashfulness;
Hints of sudden tenderness
That within her breast rebel.
Till her bosom's fall and swell
Tell her meaning all too well,
To her heart's demure distress.
She has soft, smooth cheeks that flame
As she nestles close, so close,
With the new half-joy, half-shame,
That within her bosom glows,
And each fevered feature shows.
Her hot pulses beat acclaim
Of the hopes she dare not tame,
Fervid thoughts she cannot name—
Till I kiss her, and she knows.
She has clinging arms of white,
Little hands and fingers fine,
And she holds me tight, so tight;
While her eager arms entwine
Deep I drink her kisses' wine.
Hush! I feel through all her slight,
Trembling figure love's delight,
And she knows that all is right,
And her bosom beats with mine.

poem by Arthur Henry Adams
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The Vision the Tree that was Me

I saw a tree so tall and straight
It almost reached to the heavenly gate
I was very close to that tall tree
I became the tree, and the tree became me A fire was burning all around
It burned the roots that were attached to the ground
The fire did not burn the heart of the tree;
As I was the tree and the tree was me. God saved the tree that was me,
God looks upon the heart you see
He saw a sinful heart set free
Sins all buried on the cross of calvary God took the tree that was me,
And planted it by crystal sea
I am the tree, and the tree of life is in me
I, and the tree are one you see, Would you like to be our neighbor?
A tree planted by the waters.
Come to the cross dear sisters and brothers
Jesus will meet you; and we will meet each other.

poem by Pearline Wagner
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Not Close

Where’s the kid? Kirkehuse
asks. She’s in bed, she’s sleeping,
Mother says. About time; never
knew a kid to yak so much. She’s just

a child. She’s a yakker and she talks
too much. Mother cuddles up close
to Kirkehuse on the sofa as he sips
his booze. You’re too soft with her;

she gets away with things. When I
was a kid I kept quiet and did as I
was told and if I didn’t my old man’d
make sure I knew what’d happen if

I didn’t, Kirkehuse says. Mother kisses
his stubbly cheek. I try, she mutters.
Well, you don’t try hard enough.
The kid just yaks and thinks she knows

things she doesn’t. Kirkehuse looks at
Mother’s head of hair. He kisses her.
And what was that about the history
lesson, eh? She thinks we don’t know

about the Kennedys? Mother pulls at
the hem of her dress; he sips his booze.
She’s just trying to show she’s good at school,
Mother says. Kirkehuse pulls a face.
If she were my kid she’d know her place.

poem by Terry Collett
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Hang My Heart from Your Hope Tree

I hang my heart from your hope tree
I close my eyes and pray to see
You reach up there and pluck it down
And grasp it softly in your hand
To hold it close and cherish it
To start the fire and keep it lit
The hope that burns from your hope tree
The hope that you will hope for me

poem by Kamryn Chew
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Jesus Holds My Hand

I saw Jesus last night.
He layed beside me,
held my hand.
I felt his scars.
They didn't make me sad.
The scars are happy.
Jesus said i have scars too.
You just can't see them.
My scars cut deep
So i can't escape them.
Jesus said to give him my scars.
That he carried the sorows of the world.
I gave my scars to God last night.
He still holds my hand.
And i love Jesus.
Can you?

poem by Lady Hope
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