I Sit Beneath This Tree
I sit beneath this tree,
Bared beneath the moon,
I'm touched by it's coolness,
I'm loved by it's light,
I sit beneath the tree,
The world can see my scars,
The hollow where my heart layed,
And where my soul escaped,
Then in my hand the dagger,
In your hands my heart,
As it quickly slows,
The necklace round my throat,
Slowly drips down my chest,
I sit beneath this tree,
As you hold onto my hand,
My soul it tries to fly,
With wongs broken from guilt,
I sit upon the earth,
As you hold my hands and plea,
Plea for my forgiveness,
Before the darkness takes control,
Plea for my love,
Before I journey to my grave,
I sit beneath this tree,
As you pain my death,
With your guilt and no forgiveness,
I sit beneath this tree,
As my soul it walks away,
Towards loved gates of Hell.
poem by Holly Heron

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Under The Laburnum Tree
(A simple tale)
Under the Laburnum tree
She saw his gentle face
Under the Laburnum tree
She knew their first embrace
Under the Laburnum tree
She gave to him her love
Under the Laburnum tree
Beneath the stars above
Under the Laburnum tree
He left her there to cry
Under the Laburnum tree
That`s where she chose to die
(Under the Laburnum tree
Were scattered all its seeds
Under the Laburnum tree
Amongst the growing weeds)
Under the Laburnum tree
The moon was shining bright
Under the Laburnum tree
Her silv`ry soul took flight
Under the Laburnum tree
At last she was set free
Under the Laburnum tree
She found eternity
poem by Valerie Dohren

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My Oak Tree
My taste for love is what I long,
The secret so full and free
My heart of love beats every day
Because of this Oak Tree
The beauty of its leaves, we seldom admire
Oh Creator Lord to thee
How foolish our paths would have been
If it wasn’t for this Oak Tree
How quickly this seed germinated
Our eyes could hardly see
I treasured every moment
Beneath this Oak Tree
As little children we play and hide
How sweet are those memories to me?
The games we played, the jokes we shared
Beneath this Oak Tree
I would never forget this Oak Tree dear
For she is very dear to me
It matters not how grey I get
For my Mother is that Oak Tree
I watched this tree as the leaves got dry
The limbs begin to break
I fell to my knees, and begged the Lord
“Please don’t you this Oak Tree take”
Lord, if this tree should bend its head
I dread that day to see
May time give way to that glorious day
When we meet in eternity.
poem by Troy Brown

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Beneath the Christmas tree
Once beneath the Christmas tree
Granddad told to me
Santa left what was to see
His Teddy bear Henri.
Once beneath the Christmas tree
Granny told me too
Santa left what was to see
Her China doll of Blue.
Once beneath the Christmas tree
my sister held me tight
Santa left what was to see
My Pop gun and a kite
Now beneath the Christmas tree
my daughters stand by me
Santa left what was to see
An ipad, phone and Wii.
©Alan Halford 20012
poem by Alan Halford

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Beneath All Else...
beneath my feet
i hide my shadows and
they escape like
fugitives
under the guises
of their
sad stories
beneath my hands
i clasp my emptiness
and shaped like a ball
you mistake it for
fullness
you are confused
and i look amazed
still unfazed by your
feigned confidences
beneath my hair
i hide my thoughts
beneath my skull
i hide my soul
beneath my beliefs
i hide a number of faces
beneath my heart
i tell love stories
beneath all these
are the shallowness of them all
something that nobody expects
for i am simple
as a yellow paper
where you list
your bad debts
poem by Ric S. Bastasa

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Beneath The Skin
Beneath the Skin a caustic red river
Beneath the Skin corrosive abuser
Beneath the Skin genetic in rupture
Beneath the Skin all cold and hungered
Beneath the Skin a still born forgiveness
Beneath the Skin cell transfer in whispers
Beneath the Skin a lover cries murder
Beneath the Skin all cold and hungered
Beneath the Skin i wasted this moment
Beneath the Skin old undiscovered
Beneath the Skin another lies ruptured
Beneath the Skin all cold and hungered
song performed by by Queen Adreena

Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Reservation For One
This is my tree, my tree, my tree,
My one lone tree, pear tree,
It grows, overflows, it grows it’s fruit,
Alone, only for me.
If I could go to a far-away place,
With just me and my tree, pear tree,
I’d pack my bags, my bags I’d pack,
I’d pick up my bags and flee.
There’s nothing at all, no nothing,
At all, that films me more with glee,
Than those globes, those globes,
Of precious fruit in my tree, pear tree.
I sit beneath, beneath I sit,
Its laden canopy, I polish it’s leafs then,
Set a table of fruits,
Of wine, and bread and brie.
This tree, my tree, could feed the world,
Find me a wife and camaraderie,
It’s powers, it’s powers are vast but I
Can’t pass on its secret sadly.
I’d tell the world, the world I’d tell,
If they weren’t all so hungry, you see.
But my fruit, my fruits, my laboured.
Fruits, I grew only for me, for me,
No none are as hungry as me.
poem by Suzanne Louise Bishop

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See And Feel The Wonder
Leave me in the cool tall grass
With my back against a tree
Tilt my head back a bit
Put soft brush beneath my knee
Put my hands atop one another
For I have the need, you see
To see and feel the wonder
To repose beneath the tree
So journey on…Don’t look back
Think no more of me
Just leave me in the cool tall grass
With my back against a tree
poem by David Whalen

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Being There
'Oheneba'!
My world of words with the hero inside me;
And like a child from a virtuos woman,
Being there for me is everything.
Dreams come and true and love can take you on a ride!
For, 'Odo Oduro' is what i am talking about.
'Daben na odo beba'?
Being there for me is everything and,
You are the roof beneath the roof of my love.
Try to revisit my house like a tree beneath a tree,
And try to revisit my mind like a home beneath another house;
For being there forme is everything!
And i will take my story to the whole world.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis

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The Four Angels
As Adam lay a-dreaming beneath the Apple Tree
The Angel of the Earth came down, and offered Earth in fee;
But Adam did not need it,
Nor the plough he would not speed it,
Singing: --"Earth and Water, Air and Fire,
What more can mortal man desire?"
(The Apple Tree's in bud)
As Adam lay a-dreaming beneath the Apple Tree
The Angel of the Waters offered all the Seas in fee;
But Adam would not take 'em,
Nor the ships he wouldn't make 'em,
Singing:--"Water, Earth and Air and Fire,
What more can mortal man desire? "
(The Apple Tree's in leaf.)
As Adam lay a-dreaming beneath the Apple Tree
The Angel of the Air he offered all the Air in fee;
But Adam did not crave it,
Nor the flight he wouldn't brave it,
Singing: --"Air and Water, Earth and Fire,
What more can mortal man desire:"
(The Apple Tree's in bloom.)
As Adam lay a-dreaming beneath the Apple Tree
The Angel of the Fire rose up and not a word said he;
But he wished a flame and made it,
And in Adam's heart he laid it,
Singing: --"Fire, Fire, burning Fire!
Stand up, and reach your heart's desire!"
(The Apple Blossom's set.)
As Adam was a-working outside of Eden-Wall,
He used the Earth, he used the Seas, he used the Air and all;
Till out of black disaster
He arose to be a master
Of Earth and Water, Air and Fire,
But never reached his heart's desire!
(The Apple Tree's cut down!)
poem by Rudyard Kipling

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I'm Just A Tree
I'm just a tree.
I bare the thorns
to share my pain,
kind of like her
scars I've seen.
She used me...
Leaned against me,
Used my thorns
for her relief.
Now she tells me, the tree,
that she has nothing
left to be.
I see her now,
one thing connecting
her and me, the tree,
a rope at plea.
so much pain,
must have dropped her
at insane.
She needed a friend,
everyone thought she was lame.
I wish I wasn't a tree.
I want to be like you,
able to set her free.
But I'm just a tree.
poem by Hope Bennett

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The Strange Tree
There’s a strange tree which lives near me,
And this strange tree could not agree,
That if this tree could ever see,
A stranger tree it sure would be.
There’s a strange tree which topples me,
For this strange tree was tall, you see,
And then this tree would use its knee,
To break in three, the clouds who flee.
There’s a strange tree which lives near me,
The northern tree, its branches free,
The southern tree, no limb to see,
For this strange tree, was strange, you see?
There’s a strange tree which I can see,
And this strange tree (against my plea)
Was sent to sea, its roots now free,
And now this tree… A ship is he.
End.
Butterfly Pestilence
Under a rubber tree and her spangling hair
Beneath her canopy and the aberrant flair
A cavalcade of lambent orbs in an aerial parade
The Mardi Gras drifted shambling in a masquerade
The lantern in my hands combed by the whisper
Of the night's lips, a goodnight kiss from a mother
Scrawny fingers, let loose of the groping crevasse
Of the lantern and it will slither in the maladroit haze
The hoarfrost of departure beguiles the arrival
Of the winged executrix of the influx of a carnival
With passion beneath her wings of different potions
Beneath a rubber tree, generating proportions and distortions
Perch daintily on my open fists of iron and cinder
And quell the arresting scent of perpetual amber
With the splendors of your demagogic delinquency
And the pixie powders bearing the solvency
The hungry mouth in the burl of the rubber tree
Will consume me from beneath her canopy
Until my hands fold like a butterfly
When it release the lantern and clinch the behemoth's cry.
poem by Norman Santos

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Buried Love
I have come to bury Love
Beneath a tree,
In the forest tall and black
Where none can see.
I shall put no flowers at his head,
Nor stone at his feet,
For the mouth I loved so much
Was bittersweet.
I shall go no more to his grave,
For the woods are cold.
I shall gather as much of joy
As my hands can hold.
I shall stay all day in the sun
Where the wide winds blow, --
But oh, I shall cry at night
When none will know.
poem by Sara Teasdale

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Fire On The Willow
Weary beneath the Weaping Willow,
I lie so lonesome and secluded from the world.
Away from what's realtiy and the truth of life,
As my skitzophrenia engulfs me,
And burns away my once self like a wildfire.
Fire beneath the Willow Tree,
And no one gives a thought to my agonizing burns.
The fire consumes me, swallows me, eats me alive,
And I'm overzealous in my attempts to be quenched.
Completely alone and pleading for my life,
As the truculent fire leaps to the Willow.
The fire licks up the Willow Tree,
And flames creep into my eyes,
So all I may witness is Hell.
Hell inside myself blazes the world around me,
And nothing's as it seems to be.
All alone and incarserated in flames,
As fire burns up the Willow Tree.
The Love Tree
I see a huge climbing tree
with love inscribed on wood,
carved initials in a heart
where true love surely stood.
A couple sat beneath the tree
despite the rainy weather,
hugs and kisses, holding hands,
spending time together.
The sweethearts adorned the tree
with a promise that is true,
proof that love endures the ages
after all that they went through.
Time spent there reminiscing
of good times now in the past,
they would return to the tree
open to feelings that would last.
Years went by, memories faded
and the tree soon stood alone,
the initials seen within a heart
was a treasure to be known.
The tree held perfect meaning
after the carvers passed away,
Left behind are the engravings
of the love they felt that day.
poem by Shelley Williams

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Fundamental of Liar Chapter XLII: What Lies Beneath
beauty lies beneath
sense lies beneath
secret lies beneath
character lies beneath
rule lies beneath
mind lies beneath
past lies beneath
foundation lies beneath
root lies beneath
dark hole lies beneath
poem by Maria Sudibyo

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Song #7.
You, too, shall know that I have prayed
Beneath the mystic tree
Whose branches at the first were made
Out of God's memory.
Beneath those boughs my soul has knelt,
And each leaf bending down
Stirred with my heart, as it had felt
A rapture like its own.
I dared not touch the holy thing,
But made my prayer a breath
Intense as is the passioning
Of lover gone to death —
Who sees the dark flood he must cross
Without his love afar,
And bears with him that bitter loss
'Where the Eternal are.'
poem by Robert Crawford

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Sprinkle Your Love
The glazing sunshine
Afternoon
Under that tree
Tree with dry leaves
Visible roots
Dry earth
Give me water
To drink
And sprinkle your love
On the bareness of my heart
The sky and some patches of white clouds
I stretch
Hold my hands
The hands dry like the branches of that tree
Hold my hands
For these hands
May grow some leaves
And fruits
Like the hope
I have
From the tree
My love
Do not despair
There is blood
Still running in my veins
poem by Sadiqullah Khan

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Hymn 4
Salvation in the cross.
Here at thy cross, my dying God,
I lay my soul beneath thy love,
Beneath the droppings of thy blood,
Jesus, nor shall it e'er remove.
Not all that tyrants think or say,
With rage and lightning in their eyes,
Nor hell shall fright my heart away,
Should hell with all its legions rise.
Should worlds conspire to drive me thence,
Moveless and firm this heart should lie;
Resolved, (for that's my last defence,)
If I must perish, there to die.
But speak, my Lord, and calm my fear;
Am I not safe beneath thy shade?
Thy vengeance will not strike me here,
Nor Satan dares my soul invade.
Yes, I'm secure beneath thy blood,
And all my foes shall lose their aim:
Hosannah to my dying God,
And my best honors to his name.
poem by Isaac Watts

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Bow Before My Death
I lie beneath the flame this night,
I bow before my death,
He takes my hand,
And holds me close,
Death embraces me,
He says the time has come,
Beginning now meets end,
He says the fires taken me,
And now it's time to walk,
Walk the path of fates sweet song.
I lie beneath the flame this night,
I bow before my death,
The fires stripped me of my sins,
Humility my pride,
Now death guides me through the dark,
And speaks to me kind words,
'The pain has stopped,
It won't come back,
Your senses now are cleansed,
The soul has been washed clean',
He says the end is pleasure.
I lie beneath the flame this night,
I bow before my death,
Death's a man clothed in blue jeans,
A white shirt stained with blood,
Death holds a knife,
Death slits my throat,
Death is the end of my beginning.
I lie beneath the flame this night.
I bow before my death.
poem by Holly Heron

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