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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
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
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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Not Finished
A perfect night
the stars are sparkling bright
staring into the sky,
the little house in the creek
sits nestled under the tall mossy tree
the house aged by nature...beautiful
as the rain starts to pour
the tall mossy tree protects the house and its front door
the mossy tree bears the weight of the sky
as the house is kept dry
more clouds swarm in recklessly
lightning cracks as it sets fire to the tall mossy tree
the tree stands strong....
but i doesn't know if it can last long
as the rain runs down the tree's trunk and roots
like tears
poem by Wandering Scarlet
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Season's Closing
A wind that passes in the night,
came unexpectedly
and gone without a trace.
But your face it did touch,
running through your hair
as they float while it dances,
and patiently listening
to your unspoken emotions
before carrying them away
to the horizon's furthest edges...
Our encounter was brief
a mere season in a year
that quickly passes by
in the stream of running Time
but a fated one, indeed
a precious one, nevertheless
So, here is my blessing to you
before we part our ways:
This one last and final Song
to a friend I find so dear.
Thank you for your friendship.
I had fun,
and it's truly nice knowing you...
Take care,
for the days and days to come.
Wilson Khor W.H. @ Seymour Nightweaver
poem by Wilson Khor Woo Han
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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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An uncreative medicine
no hope
no friend
no family
no home
no nativity
no nationality
no fame
no name
no future
no points
no market
no identity
no possessions still a tree without roots
no relationship still a tree without roots
no anarchism still a tree without roots
no hiearchy still a tree without roots
no country still a tree without roots
no colours still a tree without roots
no degrees still a tree without roots
no certificates
no imaginations
no dream
no poetry
no fiction
no story
no news
no media
no happiness still a tree without roots
no genre still a tree without roots
no labels still a tree without roots
no names still a tree without roots
THE FOURTH EYE
of
A post-conceptual poet.
Waiting n Love
My little child,
Everything will come when the time is right.
Like the sun that rises and sets,
At its appointed time each day,
Like the rain that falls
Keeping the soil alive,
And the law of the four seasons,
Part of nature's beautiful fascade...
If even the wind
That comes and goes as it pleases
Heeds the words of its Master
Halting when rebuked,
What more Love
Who in all things were first made,
Governed and placed in motion?
Again,
If He cares about when the sun rises
Of the days and the months
And the timing of the seasons...
What more He cares about you, little child?
Leave love to Him, for He is Love Himself
...and so is everything that comes with it.
Wilson Khor W.H. @ Seymour Nightweaver
poem by Wilson Khor Woo Han
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Story Of An Oak Tree
I walked through the park and saw a young oak tree growing,
Growing beside an old bark hit by lightning.
I asked the young tree how he wished to be,
He shook his leaves and sung to me:
Im a strong oak tree like my father used to be,
Though deep in my heart, the memorys still there.
The sky is clearer now and the wind is fair,
The world is beautiful and I like it out here.
When I hear thunder, I think of my father,
He taughtme about life, that was when I was five.
Its true that some days are more than grey,
But we learn to get by day by day.
Im a strong oak tree like my father used to be,
Though deep in my heart, the memorys still there.
The sky is clearer now and the wind is fair,
The world is beautiful and I like it out here.
song performed by by Yoko Ono
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Story Of An Oak Tree
I walked through the park and saw a young oak tree growing,
Growing beside an old bark hit by lightning.
I asked the young tree how he wished to be,
He shook his leaves and sung to me:
Im a strong oak tree like my father used to be,
Though deep in my heart, the memorys still there.
The sky is clearer now and the wind is fair,
The world is beautiful and I like it out here.
When I hear thunder, I think of my father,
He taughtme about life, that was when I was five.
Its true that some days are more than grey,
But we learn to get by day by day.
Im a strong oak tree like my father used to be,
Though deep in my heart, the memorys still there.
The sky is clearer now and the wind is fair,
The world is beautiful and I like it out here.
song performed by by Yoko Ono
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Leaves Turning Grey
Like a carcass lays, an ancient tree,
he tried to pray, through celestial seas,
but his spirit flew just like a bee.
Everyday he gazed at crying clouds,
the wind through his branches was so loud.
He looked for listening ears
as he stood in a sea of tears.
O tree, do you still wade?
Why have you lost your will to change?
O tree, leaves turning grey,
your roots have lost their range.
But how can one ask for help,
when you're not helping yourself?
And so this tree founded on sand,
with the wind tumbled to land.
He's an arboreal fool,
in a world that pulls
his heart and blood apart.
O tree, you've lost your blood,
your dead branches lay in the mud.
O tree, leaves turning grey,
your roots in such ground won't stay.
poem by Soren Valentine
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No Tree Can Stand Tall Without Roots Spread!
Every seed sends roots first,
Finding for soil and ground
where it can stand firm and tall,
stand firm and tall if roots go
deep,
Spread wide to find The sap! single cell that carry life,
Give life to cells and tissues,
Shoot, barks, branches and
leaves,
feed the leaves exposing leaves
to light, Visible tree stands on exposed
roots, not roots visible, Man made boundaries, fence and
compound,
Can't prevent or limit roots or
branches,
Sometimes absorbing soil here,
Branch will extent to neighbouring house,
How one can limit the nature,
or confine growing tree to
narrow circle drawn by man?
So is every life on Earth!
Mankind is like forest of different trees,
Yet all roots of autotrophic trees
deep in the soil,
Only parasitic have those roots,
pierce other tree's heart! Dive deep into yourself,
O man! Can you survive without
Your roots?
know how you are here,
Is it the mortal parent brought
you here, Or your fate,
Only be grateful to their love and
care forever!
poem by Ramdas Bhandarkar
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The Tree
My life is a tree,
Yoke-fellow of the earth;
Pledged,
By roots too deep for remembrance,
To stand hard against the storm,
To fill by Place.
(But high in the branches of my green tree there is a wild
bird singing:
Wind-free are the wings of my bird: she hath built no
mortal nest.)
poem by Karle Wilson Baker
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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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A New leaf
There’s a new leaf upon the Tree
A thousand, thousand have been before
In the life of this great tree
Yet, the Tree rejoices, and is glad
For there is a New Leaf upon the tree
The roots are deep, and hidden
Tis one tree from root to branch
And lives in and through each leaf
The hearts’ smile resurrected
Through the New leaf upon the tree
Like the stars of heaven
New leaves have been many
And so they all are One
For they all share the same root
Bless the New leaf upon the tree
Perfection in the Blessing
Joy released in tears of love
The strength in life will comfort
From root to God above
A New leaf upon the tree
Beauty, Truth, and life
Complete from root to branch
When life’s cycle turns
Leaves fall to nourish roots
And behold, a New leaf upon the tree
poem by Adrian Wait
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First Christmas Tree
A story of the first Christmas tree I will tell
Sent to yearly remind us wishing us well
Angels had to find the most perfect tree
Perfect for everyone not just you and me
This tree the angels were sent to find,
Had to display love and hope to us remind,
To tower into heaven above like Gods given hope
To find such a tree narrowed their scope
With branch arms so wide so it can us hug
To envelop with love keeping us snug
And on ever branch it was to bear
Christmas symbols to everyone everywhere.
The angels searched the whole world
And there deep in a forest deep the tree had unfurled
This Christmas tree they had sought
Of Christmas time it has us much taught
Of possible endless love hope and charity
Can shine so bright being seen with more clarity
The Christmas pine scent would fill any room
To enable even the blind to be lifted from gloom
And now that the magical tree had been found
It needed light to spread its never ending love around
So round all the branches the angels flew all about
Spinkling stardust onto candles now lit from the skies
Magical light spreading to everyone to make us wise
Christmas tree to remind hope is still there
Its light fills our souls so we can love and care.
**********************************From a story remembered: S
The Silent Owl
The glimmering eyes
reflecting the moonlit sky
Dreamy but vigilant eyes
suddenly come into life
catching sight of scarlet petals
of blooming roses in the night.
Silvery feathers
gently glide
eyes perching in the dark
on a nearby branch
Big glowing eyes
silently observing
the field of dreams,
thinking deeply
and listening intently
to the rustling of the leaves
and the sound of the breeze
playing among the flowers
as critters continue to crawl
making noise as they play
unaware of his presence...
His eyes continue to watch
through the wee hours of the night.
Wilson Khor W.H. @ Seymour Nightweaver
poem by Wilson Khor Woo Han
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
A Poison Tree
the mom and dad
found a poison tree
did not realise
the land they are tilling
until a poison tree
sprouts in their midst
the tree from the seeds
of their sweats
the tree sheds leaves
of disappointments
flying away with their
most secret wishes, hope
and fun of life
the sweats are now tears
drenched with deep seated regrets
they never realised they would be
the farmers of the poison tree
but now they are not able
to do away with for whatever
reason, whatever price
the tree poisons their systems
the roots the tree has imbibed
its nutrients all these years
the tree clings over them
a parasite strangling
its parent tree slowly,
surely, despicably
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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A Poem For Elyssa
What will I see
appearing before me
when she types her heart
and her thoughts out for me
Will it be sweet,
Will it be majestic,
but even if it doesn't
it's still beautiful, you see
It's not your talent
that gives your poem beauty,
neither it's skill nor wits
that gives it the punchline hits...
but it's the reflection of who you are
on the blank paper I will see
that gives it its breathing life
the way it ought to be.
Perfection is not the answer
nor it is technique or book-bound knowledge,
but it is the embracing of who you are
and the harmony in the acceptance
between your self and your mirror...
for man is never perfect
- such is the true human nature
that God knew since Creation...
flawed, to its very core
yet beautiful at His own accord.
The beauty our Creator sees,
the beauty of all beauty:
That, is the beauty I know.
Wilson Khor W.H. @ Seymour Nightweaver
poem by Wilson Khor Woo Han
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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