Around the Acacia Tree
Vertical and pinnate, green leaves
And small flowers of yellow grow
Around the Acacia Tree.
Sun light drapes and the ground receives
The curtain's folding golden glow
Around the Acacia Tree.
The incense scent in the air weaves
The knitted root tangles below
Around the Acacia Tree.
Yet, now, from the bark, cloudy smoke
Lifts like a slumbering ghost awoke
Around the Acacia Tree.
poem by Tim Stensloff

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The Old Acacia Tree
Neither daylight nor the darkness
See how silently I wander.
Not on mountain, nor in valley,
Does an old acacia ponder.
The acacia solves all mysteries,
Tells my fortune while I tarry.
I shall ask the tree to tell me
Whom O whom, am I to marry?
Where will he be from, O Acacia,
Is it Poland, Lithuania?
Will he come with a horse and a carriage
Or with staff and sack will he appear?
And what presents will be bring me -
Necklace of pearls and coral flower?
Tell me, will he be fair or dark-haired?
Still unmarried or a widower?
If he's old, my dear Acacia,
I won't have him, please don't try me.
I'll tell my father; you may slay me,
But to an old man do not tie me!
At his feet I'll fall and with tears I'll cry;
To an old man do not tie me.
poem by Hayyim Nahman Bialik

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I'm Just An Ordinary Tree
My existence
start from a little piece of seed...
First, I was bury on the ground...
Then, I showed my two cute leaves up in to world...
But it didn't end just like that...
I grow... more and more...
With love, hope and care,
I became a tree...
Tree with many leaves,
if you need some shady circumstance...
Tree with a strong wood,
if you need me to make a good wardrobe...
Tree with a tight root,
if you want to make a solid foundation...
Tree with a sincerely pray,
if you need a support...
Tree with an everlasting presence,
if you need a friend beside you forever...
Tree with a dry branch,
if you want to share your tears...
Tree with a pure dew,
if you feel thirsty...
Tree with a warm wind,
if you get cold and alone...
Tree with a full color's flowers,
if you feel your life so black and white...
Tree with many hopes,
if you lost your dreams away...
But... after all,
I'm just an ordinary Tree...
By: Tree
22 May 2007,7: 02 PM
Rain-tree
Rain-tree
The rain-tree is of cassia family -
Like an elephant it stands on the road, clothed
With thick green foliage, dark against the sky
All along the Bandra-Kurla road in Mumbai.
You have to exert a little and see
Over the top to see the nazuna-type
Of pink flowers sitting above the foliage
In plentiful numbers, with up-thrust pink hairs.
Unlike the African tulip in front of ONGC
At Bandra Flyover visible from the distance,
Here the pink and green does not show off
As rain-tree flowers don’t advertise themselves.
Unlike copper-pod’s bright yellow flowers
The rain tree flowers don’t weave a carpet:
I’ve never seen the flowers on the ground below
Nor do they wither on the tree, how I wonder!
In monsoon rains, the leaves shine specially,
Transparent drops falling on walkers below,
Or with a thud on the racing car bonnets too,
Some choose to fall on road to rise a bit upwards.
I have not understood why it is called rain-tree:
Are they attracted, peacock-like, to the rain-clouds,
Or does the rain-bird which drinks water straight from heavens
Prefer this tree, and inspire Kalidasa to write Meghdoot?
poem by Daniel Trevelyn Joseph

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The macaco doesn't climb up the acacia tree two times.
Queen's Flowers
During the month of April
Tree after tree in full bloom;
Mauve flowers, pushing out in plenty,
With copper pod yellow flowers on top
Here and there - taller, larger trees.
A solitary bread-tree flaunts its pretty leaves,
Bunch of bell-tree flowers intruding through;
Nearby a frangipani tree with white-streaked red flowers
Bougainvillae and railway creepers on the fence
Along the pavement where I walk.
Line, color, motion, light and shade
Thrill me: what my eyes see each moment
Constitute a better painting than
Any of the greatest of Masters.
Alas, it is evanescent!
13th April 2007
Bandra-Kurla.
poem by Daniel Trevelyn Joseph

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Sonnet: the Drumstick Tree
The drumstick-tree I thought was dead and gone
Is fully clothed by green leaves and flowers;
The bees are active and some fruits are born;
The tree awaits August’s Monsoon showers.
I see the tree growing so fast each morn;
My eyes perceive not the blossoming act;
How well does Nature heal its parts much torn;
Human beings are blind with eyes- the fact.
So, numerous small birds visit the tree,
To eat the flowers that gets dropped nearby;
The tree makes the backyard look so lovely;
Some Millipedes remain and will not die!
The tree looks resurrected, simply great!
God gave a new lease and a newer date.
7-31-2000
poem by John Celes

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Forgetting The Moon
i invite you
to sit upon a hill
under the acacia tree
to view the moon
it is full tonight
rising from the shadows of
the mountains
i hold your hand
and your long hair
touches my shoulder
we sit tonight
silently admiring the moon rising
from the shadows of the mountains
i gaze upon your eyes
and we kiss under the cool shade
of the acacia trees
after that night
i lay upon my bed inside my room
still thinking about you
and that kiss
i have forgotten about the full moon
rising from the shadows of the mountains
i am the poet
who first scribbles the most beautiful poem about you.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa

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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 Rose Tree Of Winter
In the cold winds of Winter she stands thorny and bare
In Summer large beautiful red flowers she did wear
The Rose tree of Winter not a pretty sight
At a time of year with litle warmth in the sunlight,
When the birds in the sunlit gardens will nest and sing
She will wear her new leaves and rosebuds of the Spring
As a tree the rose tree does not grow very tall
Compared to most trees she does seem very small
But in her full bloom none as lovely as she
In her cloak of flowers she's a beautiful tree
But in Winter she stands there by the garden wall
Of the garden trees the most forlorn one of all
And though it may still be a few months from the Spring
The white backed magpie on the blackwood tree sing
But without her leaves and flowers prickly looking and bare
The rose tree looks drab in the cool morning air.
poem by Francis Duggan

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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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Friends On Their Reunion
three friends meet
under the shade of an acacia tree
one hot summer
they tell stories
without the required plots
they are heroes there
on their never ending
wars.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa

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The Lime Tree
That lime tree on the distant rising ground
(If it was a lime tree) showed her yellow leaves
Above the renewed green of wet August grass--
First Autumn yellow that on first Autumn eves
Too soon was found.
Comfortless lime tree! Scarce an aspen leaf
Like a green butterfly flitted to the ground;
There was no sign of Autumn in the grass.
Even the long garden beds their beauty brief--
Their mignonette,
Nasturtium and sweet-william and red stocks,
And clover crouching in the border grass,
And blood-like fuschia, eve's primrose and white phlox
And honeysuckle--waved all their smell and hue
Morn and eve anew.
But that far lime tree yellowing by the oak,
Warning oak, elm and poplar and each fresh tree
Shaking in the south wind delightedly,
And clover in the closeness of the grass,
Warns also me.
And now when all the trees are standing still
Beneath the purple and white of the west sky,
And time is standing still--as stand it will--
That early yellowing lime with palsied fingers
Cannot be still.
poem by John Freeman

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It Is So Beaufitul
a tree
dies attacked by fungus
infection is all
over
all leaves fall
to the ground
i watch sadness
creeping on stones
a tree without leaves
is happiness
stripped
off
as though deserted
all essence
gone
it does not end there
yet
this afternoon
birds with yellow breasts
and tiny beaks
come hovering
the dead tree sings a song
to the night
the sky is listening and it is
so beautiful
poem by Ric S. Bastasa

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Dead Leaves
When these dead leaves were green, love,
November's skies were blue,
And summer came with lips aflame,
The gentle spring to woo;
And to us, wandering hand in hand,
Life was a fairy scene,
That golden morning in the woods
When these dead leaves were green!
How dream-like now that dewy morn,
Sweet with the wattle's flowers,
When love, love, love was all our theme,
And youth and hope were ours!
Two happier hearts in all the land
There were not then, I ween,
Than those young lovers' -- yours and mine --
When these dead leaves were green.
How gaily did you pluck these leaves
From the acacia's bough,
To mark the lyric we had read --
I can repeat it now!
While came the words, like music sweet,
Your smiling lips between --
"So fold my love within your heart,"
When these dead leaves were green!
How many springs have passed since then?
Ah, wherefore should we count,
The years that sped, like waters fled
From Time's unstaying fount?
We've had our share of happiness,
Our share of care have seen;
But love alone has never flown
Since these dead leaves were green.
Your heart is kind and loving still,
Your face to me as fair,
As when, that morn, the sunshine played
Amid your golden hair.
So, dearest, sweethearts still we'll be,
As we have ever been,
And keep our love as fresh and true
As when these leaves were green.
poem by Edward Booth Loughran

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A Flower To Auroville Mother-19
Kondrai-(Sarakondrai, Mayil Kondrai white, red, dwarf red
red and yaloow, yellow, Manjal Kondrai, Perunkondrai-
Golden shower tree, Indian Laburnum.Cassia fistula
Flame Tree, Royal Poinciana, Delonix regia,
Peacock Flower red, yellow, Caesalpinia pulcherrima
Siamese Senna, Siamese cassia, Senna siamea
Cassia glauca LAM, Delonix elata (L.) GAMBLE-
All Gulmohar family)
I need to remain amazed in awe
Ye, dear cousin-flowers of Shiva
Ye need to remain bloomed ultra
For I do need your feast fiesta
Wait till I fetch my folks all here
Wilt not but shade shaded in cheer
Wide and varied and canopied sincere
Red and yellow all lighted superior
And for my folks when asked in special
Poinciana, ye fan in flaming red and swell
Tall and striking in four-petaled settle
Buffing ferny leaves supporting in full
And for my folks when asked specific
Mayil Kondrais, ye, younger sisters terrific
Stalked intense for belittled flowers pacific
Breeze an ever green show of yellow-red magic
And in mindful heart for my folks when asked
Sarakondrai, ye sway your chandelier basked
Glittering golden on supoort of a woody red
With all purposeful service of a treat readied
And for my folks in distinct speciality
Ye, Manjal Kondrai, caress in bowing tenacity
Crowned in racemed yellow on an axised beauty
Pinnate leaves pining oblong and mighty
And ye, Perunkondrai, in greater heart
Swing and sway and hush in touching beat
Beating against arthritic beat in full feat
White to yellow on a greeny spread support
I need to remain amazed in awe
Ye, dear cousin-flowers of Shiva
Ye need to remain bloomed ultra
For I do need your feast fiesta
poem by Indira Renganathan

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from A Fallen Tree All Make Kindling' (dutch Proverb)
Whenever I sit under a tree I’m in my grandpas arms
My grandpa was like a tree with his strong and silent charm
He would shelter the world under his shade
And in the harshest storm he just merely swayed
He was like a tree but not the ones with big flowers
For his beauty was endurance it lasted more than mere hours
My grandpa was a tree the kind with big leaves
The kind that when cut down the whole forest grieves
He was like a tree big and gentle
He sat there and listened kind and parental
And though he was the tallest tree all around
He never looked down on the ones on the ground
My grandpa was a tree his love ran deep like roots
So even when cut down we still have loves fruits
Pohutakawa
I'm a pohutakawa seed
Plant me in the ground and water me
Plenty of sunshine is what I need
And guess what you will see
Out will come a tiny twig
And it will continue to grow so big
Beutiful flowers of phero
Creates a tree of pheroa
Pohutakawa tree, pohutakawa tree
New Zealands christmas tree
You fill my heart, with Aroha
Create a tree of pheroa
poem by Bookworms Rock

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Leaves Compared with Flowers
A tree's leaves may be ever so good,
So may its bar, so may its wood;
But unless you put the right thing to its root
It never will show much flower or fruit.
But I may be one who does not care
Ever to have tree bloom or bear.
Leaves for smooth and bark for rough,
Leaves and bark may be tree enough.
Some giant trees have bloom so small
They might as well have none at all.
Late in life I have come on fern.
Now lichens are due to have their turn.
I bade men tell me which in brief,
Which is fairer, flower or leaf.
They did not have the wit to say,
Leaves by night and flowers by day.
Leaves and bar, leaves and bark,
To lean against and hear in the dark.
Petals I may have once pursued.
Leaves are all my darker mood.
poem by Robert Frost

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I Say There's A Tree, A Horizon
Big tree
right outside my room
tell me when your flowers will bloom
big tree
a wars'a comin soon
this war'll bring you alotta doom
big tree
spread your leaves and fly
cuz you dont wanna be here when your flowers die
big tree
uproot yourself and run
run from the bullets and run from the guns
war
from the oceans to the land
no more water to fill your hands
flowers
I'll try to water you
but theres salt in my tears and that jus' wont do
big tree
they dont understand
that what they do effects your land
big tree
by you I've made a bed
and I ask you how this war moves us ahead
big tree
my friend whats the cost
if only they could see the faces of the lost
pinecone
shaped like a grenade
the grass where you lay is all I could save
big tree
where have your sisters gone?
to make more boxes to lay flags on?
big tree
where have your brothers gone?
to make more boxes to carve names on?
poem by Chris Osterbrock

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New For Old
Bud blisters into life
Stretching for the light
Unfolding radiant green
Upturned palm to the sun
Life seeping in, breathing out
Green, Green so Green
Resurrected hope, so Green
Summer breeze stroking
Branches ebb and flow
Leaves so Green strong now
Fear not wind of change
Mellow summer turns
Green, green, green-yellow
Yellow area of dieing heart
Green lingers no more
Limp transparent yellow
Barely a breeze takes one
Fierce Hyde-like wind now
Cracking and ripping
Wind torn leaves fall
Life chords snapped
Death too early, still Green
Nourishment broken not ended
Seasons build up to tear down
To build up, to tear down
Leaves fall, Green leaves fall
And then some more
Until leaves are falling, falling
Trees and branches revealed
In the x-ray of autumn blast
Winter is coming
Winter is coming
Yellow pale yellow carpet
Beneath the naked tree
Yellow, mulchy brown
Once crisp leaves scatter
Green, yellow, transparent veins
Tired, half dead, leaves lose their grip
Join the autumn rain soaked mound
Providing new life to the roots
Old for new, New for Old
Seeds buried in death
Bring new life in Spring
In the end is the beginning.
poem by Adrian Wait

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