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An Old Apple Tree

I remember my next door neighbor
Defending her owner’s rights
Protecting a gnarly old apple tree
That had grown to great heights

Its strong branches extended
Into the backyard power lines
Workmen from the electric company
Declared... your tree is in decline

The best strategy would be removal
Problems could be solved in advance
Insuring that it wouldn't be a hazard
With folded arms she stated, 'Not a chance…'

That apple tree has a long history
To her it had status…it was a shrine
Her kids had built a tree house
Years ago…it was of superior design

The structure gave a sense of pride
It was their exclusive place
Time for dinner was a holler away
These memories she still embraced

Trim what in essential for safety
But the tree stays to kindly remind
An elevated abode no longer exists…
Yet, youthful laughter replays in her mind

8/21/09

poem by Theresa Ann Moore
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Outlet

like sweet apple taste
in the air, smell
like lemon in the eyes
of a dream

a dimension, beyond the
lines is an extension of
infinite power,
it start

live wire life, it gives, alive
fire it receive, a flame that
leads to eternity it
paves

in every moment, remember
is days to come,
that life is an outlet to be
extended to others

property of God is for all,
light has not to
be cooled, for life is to be
extended in every
page it fades

be a live wire, in every files
for God's shadow is
everybody's to be barrowed

make the best
for God take the rest....

you are God's property

poem by Antonio Liao
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Backyard Brawl

Got a cut on my thigh, got a nail in my eye
And I'm bleedin' all over the wall
Got a barbed wire bat and a dude on the mat
Ain't getting up soon at all
Got a head full of rage and a belly full of hate
I'm the neighborhood legend that just can't wait
For the backyard brawl
Backyard brawl
Another backyard brawl
Backyard brawl
Another backyard brawl
Backyard brawl
Another backyard brawl
Don't matter who you are, don't matter what color
Brown or white'll do
But if you're yellow you'll be covered in red
A whole lotta black and blue
Jump off the trailer in a pile full o' guys
Scratching and kicking and pulverized
For the backyard brawl
Backyard brawl
Another backyard brawl
Backyard brawl
Another backyard brawl
Backyard brawl
Another backyard brawl
Only got six teeth but three of those
Are sharp enough to bite off your nose
At the backyard brawl
Backyard brawl
Another backyard brawl
Backyard brawl
Another backyard brawl
Backyard brawl
Another backyard brawl
Backyard brawl
Another backyard brawl
Backyard brawl
Another backyard brawl
Backyard brawl
Another backyard brawl
Backyard brawl
Another backyard brawl
Backyard brawl
[Spoken:]
You think you're so tough
You talkin' to me?
You're mine
Come on, let's go
Come on stitches...

song performed by by Alice Cooper
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Don't Sit Under The Apple Tree

Don't sit under the apple tree
With anyone else but me
Anyone else but me
Anyone else but me
No no no
Don't sit under the apple tree
With anyone else but me
'til I come marching home
Don't go walking down lovers lane
With anyone else but me
Anyone else but me
Anyone else but me
No no no
Don't go walking down lovers lane
With anyone else but me
'til I come marching home
I just got word from a guy who heard
From the guy next door to me
The girl he met just loved to pet
And fits you to a "T"
So don't sit under the apple tree
With anyone else but me
'til I come marching home
Don't give out with those lips of yours
To anyone else but me
Anyone else but me
Anyone else but me
No no no
Watch the girls on the foreign shores
You'll have to report to me
When you come marching home
You're on your own
When there is no phone and I can't keep tab on you
Be fair to me I'll garuantee
This is one thing that I'll do
I won't sit under the apple tree
With anyone else but you
'til you come marching home
Don't sit under the apple tree
With anyone else but me
I know the apple tree
Is reserved for you and me
And I'll be true
'til you come marching home

song performed by by Barry Manilow
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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His Old Dog

His old dog now in her long rest her lot will be ours one day
In her grave by the apple tree in his backyard her bones forever lay
She passed on a few years ago with sadness he recall
The clock of life keeps ticking on and time takes care of us all.

His old dog a black and white border collie to him was a true friend
Far more devoted than his ex wife she loved him till her end
He found her dead in her kennel from a heart attack over-night
Though twelve years old she had not shown signs that her end was in sight.

Although he always kept a dog in years and decades past
No canine now in his backyard his old bitch was the last
Dog for to bark in his back-yard he too feels the weight of time
It has been five decades or more since he was in his prime.

On the rose tree on the old dog's grave red roses are in bloom
And the Summer air scents sweetly of Nature's own perfume
And no more beautiful place to rest in peace than beside an
apple tree
In the backyard where you lived your life in your Hometown by the sea.

poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Apple Tree Greed

he has an apple a green apple
he is the only person in this room
with a green apple
suppose suppose NOW
he has MORE of those at home
WHY he has a GREEN APPLE tree
In his backyard no WAIT
He has a vineyard behind his chapeau
And he makes green apple wine
And he sells it to the BOONES FARM people
And they make BOONES FARM green apple wine
And the whole city is soon sick
The children ralf and barf and ralf again
There is no more end to the men
Drinking all the green apple wine
To make this ONE person rich
He never offered me any of his wine
Eyes never drink of alcoholic beverage
Eye have juices and tea and a soda please
I'm just full of good intentions
Picking green apples in my mind and eating way too many
Having a green apple with mye lunch of poetical decay
WAIT he left and YES he took the green apple core with him
Not leaving me a bite not wanting me to taste the pleasure
of his mite. Why eye understand him greedy is his name
the green apple hoarder has so many apples now his wine cellar is so full and his larders aer so rich he does save the stems and seeds to plant again in ground so rich and he chews on this green apple while he watches MTV in selfish hedonistacal revenge while eye have no green apple stuck between my teeth OH bliss oh strang decay my teeth at least aer happier today he took the core away he left me all alone im appleless today im happier to say no song is being sung of little apples of the green variety been hung oh see the tree how big its grown the apples have been lost too long and they fall in misery from branches of decay to rot to rot to rot upon the vineyard floor there is no apple wine no more the green variety is gone they drink it only read and red is the color of the wine in cups so full of color there in plates so heaped of agony with applesauces vailiantly piled higher then the sky.

poem by Parme Hice
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Apple-Tree

OLD John had an apple-tree, healthy and green,
Which bore the best codlins that ever were seen,
So juicy, so mellow, and red;
And when they were ripe, he disposed of his store,
To children or any who pass'd by his door,
To buy him a morsel of bread.

Little Dick, his next neighbour, one often might see,
With longing eye viewing this fine apple-tree,
And wishing a codlin might fall:
One day as he stood in the heat of the sun,
He began thinking whether he might not take one,
And then he look'd over the wall.

And as he again cast his eye on the tree,
He said to himself, 'Oh, how nice they would be,
So cool and refreshing to-day!
The tree is so full, and one only I'll take,
And John cannot see if I give it a shake,
And nobody is in the way.

But stop, little boy, take your hand from the bough,
Remember, though John cannot see you just now,
And no one to chide you is nigh,
There is One, who by night, just as well as by day,
Can see all you do, and can hear all you say,
From his glorious throne in the sky.

O then little boy, come away from the tree,
Lest tempted to this wicked act you should be:
'Twere better to starve than to steal;
For the great GOD, who even through darkness can look,
Writes down every crime we commit, in His book;
Nor forgets what we try to conceal.

poem by Ann Taylor
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Apple-Tree

Old John had an apple-tree, healthy and green,
Which bore the best codlins that ever were seen,
So juicy, so mellow, and red;
And when they were ripe, he disposed of his store,
To children or any who pass'd by his door,
To buy him a morsel of bread.

Little Dick, his next neighbour, one often might see,
With longing eye viewing this fine apple-tree,
And wishing a codlin might fall:
One day as he stood in the heat of the sun,
He began thinking whether he might not take one,
And then he look'd over the wall.

And as he again cast his eye on the tree,
He said to himself, "Oh, how nice they would be,
So cool and refreshing to-day!
The tree is so full, and one only I'll take,
And John cannot see if I give it a shake,
And nobody is in the way.

But stop, little boy, take your hand from the bough,
Remember, though John cannot see you just now,
And no one to chide you is nigh,
There is One, who by night, just as well as by day,
Can see all you do, and can hear all you say,
From his glorious throne in the sky.

O then little boy, come away from the tree,
Lest tempted to this wicked act you should be:
'Twere better to starve than to steal;
For the great GOD, who even through darkness can look,
Writes down every crime we commit, in His book;
Nor forgets what we try to conceal.

poem by Jane Taylor
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Working Class

hard calloused old hands,
back bent with time and work.
feet beaten and worn,
old tired eyes that still twinkle.

i love the working class.
am more at home
with truckers, farmers,
and factory workers,
than politicians and priests.

the lives built brick by brick,
silent years of sacrifice.
hard lines of faith and worry,
and moments of gentle caring.

the hand extended,
the heart that's honest.
the love of passion,
and blowing off steam.

the cook pot, and the table,
set for whoever walks through the door.
neighbor standing behind neighbor,
the saturday night fire,
and the sunday prayer.

i love the working class...
the people that built your cities,
paved your roads,
that have grown your food,
and made your goods...

so what the hell are you doing to us?

poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Fool? Or In Cahoots?

If I convinced my neighbors I had been invited to protect...
Another neighbor's backyard from enemies and thieves.
And this had gone on for years,
As I collected donations with a squeezing of everything...
Left from the pockets of those who volunteered their money,
To continue this deception I led others to believe.

And that neighbor one day was seen,
Giving away all that was prized in that backyard...
To their...'enemies? ' as all perceived.
What should I expect those surrounding neighbors to think of me?
A fool? Or in cahoots? Maybe both.
Or...believing I was going to secretly get what was given?

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Set Free

I remember once when your soul was clean
And also the time when that apple was green
The apple it grew from the tree upon its limb
And we matured from children, and grew into women and men
What happened to us then, was truly unforeseen.

I remember that apple, and it I would not pick
Though it was not deliberate or had it been a trick
So it grew all alone and then on the limb it rotted
From age and negligence it was also spotted
Now that apple disagreed with my body's politic.

I read and then I heard stories all about you
Sadly none were lies as they all were on the venue
We had been used and cheated as your soul had waited
Seems that was the purpose, that you were created
Never would I want to act or to become like you.

I read in the news that you had died
My reaction to that news I could not hide
As I remembered that rotten apple falling from the tree
Then it hit the ground, its essence was set free
So for you or the apple, I had not cried.

Randy L. McClave

poem by Randy McClave
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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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Strong And Sturdy Branches

A nibbling on the roots of the tree,
Has been done for so long...
Those questioning the growth,
Of persisting to do this...
Infuriates the ones believing this is a custom.
A ritual believed should be kept as is.

Although all agree attempts to establish a unity,
Should be a group effort first...
To discover why the tree seems to be without,
Strong and sturdy branches.
While dismissing with discouragement...
Those reaching to bloom to heights.

'No one seems to know,
Why progress for us has been extremely slow.'

~Really?
It's a mystery isn't it? ~

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Tree

Although I grew up on a dry, infertile soil
I thank the 'Gardeners' by whose means I was sown
Shielded me from the heat, guarded against storms
And tended me until into a 'Tree' I've grown

Into a 'Tree' I've grown although not big and strong
The 'Fruits' I bore were sweet, pleasant to everyone
Did not leave a bad taste on other people's tongue
The leaves I wore were scant but provided a shade
To those who were weary and those who seeked relief
In my own little way, comfort to them I gave

Now I'm old and sapless, the leaves I had were gone
My branches and twigs dry, stretched towards the sun
Begging that I once more be given strength and life
So I'll be again of whatever worth I might

poem by Pacific Hernandez
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Our Tree

When spring comes round, our apple tree
Is very full of flowers,
And when a bird sits on a branch
The petals fall in showers.

When summer comes, our apple tree
Is very full of green,
And everywhere you look in it
There is a leafy screen.

When autumn comes, our apple tree
Is full of things to eat.
The apples hang from every branch
To tumble at our feet.

When winter comes, our apple tree
Is full of snow and ice
And rabbits come to visit it...
We think our tree is nice.

poem by Marchette Chute
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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One Tree

Against a clear and deep blue sky,
One tree stretched tall, its branches high,
And stiffly they, of movement none,
Stood true and straight, their course to run.

The wind it whistled strong, and shrilled
Between those branches, stiff and chilled,
But not one twig could it but sway,
And having tried, swept on its way.

Against a clear and deep blue sky,
One tree stretched tall, its branches high,
And with great dignity, it kept its stance,
No wind would ever make it dance.

poem by Ernestine Northover
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Diversity Of This Strength

The tree.
Grown up from a bush.
The branch with twigs.
The leaves.
The bark,
Protecting.

The trunk...
And roots!
Supportive...
And there.
Doing all that it is to get done.
And not a hint,
Of pretentiousness is shown!
Cohesive with a purpose.

Unknown.
And taken for granted,
Is the diversity of this strength.
A collective oneness...
With such a quiet power.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Mother Tree

In all my life I will never see,
something quite as unique as a tree.
The variety of juicy fruit that you may bear,
like the delicous orange, apple, or my favorite the pear.

From as soft as a peach,
to as hard as a nut.
From the multiple colors of and apple,
To the single shade of a cocoonut.

The mother tree always stands sturdy, alone, and divine.

A tree is meant to protect it's riches,
like the gold of a pharoahs tomb.
With it's branches reaching high into the sky to protect its treasure,
like children out of a mothers womb.

A tree to me is like an unspoken being,
quiet but very bold.
It always seems to stand tall,
whether its rain, drought, storms, or the bitter cold.

In all my life shall never see,
something as caring as a mother tree.

poem by Nyles Peele
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Yvonne of Brittany

In your mother's apple-orchard,
Just a year ago, last spring:
Do you remember, Yvonne!
The dear trees lavishing
Rain of their starry blossoms
To make you a coronet?
Do you ever remember, Yvonne,
As I remember yet?

In your mother's apple-orchard,
When the world was left behind:
You were shy, so shy, Yvonne!
But your eyes were calm and kind.
We spoke of the apple harvest,
When the cider press is set,
And such-like trifles, Yvonne,
That doubtless you forget.

In the still, soft Breton twilight,
We were silent; words were few,
Till your mother came out chiding,
For the grass was bright with dew:
But I know your heart was beating,
Like a fluttered, frightened dove.
Do you ever remember, Yvonne,
That first faint flush of love?

In the fulness of midsummer,
When the apple-bloom was shed,
Oh, brave was your surrender,
Though shy the words you said.
I was glad, so glad, Yvonne!
To have led you home at last;
Do you ever remember, Yvonne,
How swiftly the days passed?

In your mother's apple-orchard
It is grown too dark to stray,
There is none to chide you, Yvonne!
You are over far away.
There is dew on your grave grass, Yvonne!
But your feet it shall not wet:
No, you never remember, Yvonne!
And I shall soon forget.

poem by Ernest Christopher Dowson
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The Bomber

When I became of age
My momma sat me down
She said, son youve grown up
Its time to look around
So I began to notice some things i
Hadnt seen before
Thats what brought me hope
Knockin on your back door
A closet queen, the worst Ive seen
She wants to shake my hand
I dont want to be there
When she decides she can
Its apple dan, hes just the man
To pick fruit off your branches
I cant sleep if he cant keep
His cattle off my ranches
Its too strong, somethings wrong
And I guess I lost the feeling
I dont mind the games you play
But I dont like you dealing
The cards look bad, my lucks been had
And theres nothin left to smoke
Will all be back tomorrow
For the punch line of the joke

song performed by by Toto
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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