En.Citatepedia^®.ro

Sky-clad

Behind the high wall

Near the bus-stop

Still stands the tree

Carrying a crow's nest

On its crest,

Though now a bare sculpture

The leaves all gone

The bark coming off

From branches and torso

Giving it a leucoderma look,

In the evening

It makes such a silhouette

That even the weary eyes linger

On the river

Spread on the darkening map,

Black lightning

Frozen in the sky,

A metaphor, half-understood,

Hope, still hoping

Penance, awaiting

Perhaps, the next rain

To rise again.

poem by Prabhakar Subramaniam
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The heart of a tree

With branches reaching out as if for a embrace
The tree may bow to nature with grace.
He stands alone when the wind blows strong.
The leaves may fall, but the tree stands tall.
There are some things that the eyes can't see.
Like the heart of a tree.
In winter's cold chill, You can see the tree stand still.
Leaves are gone but the tree stands strong.
Until winter turns into spring and the birds begin to sing.
The leaves may fall, but the tree stands tall.
There are some things that the eyes can't see.
Like the heart of a tree.
Through storms and the wind. Bowing with a graceful bend,
Until the sun shines again, still standing at the end,
The tree is like a true friend.
The leaves may fall, but the tree stands tall.
There are some things that the eye can't see,
Like the heart of a tree.
The old Tree's secrets
How many lovers sat together under the old tree?
If only the tree could speak.
The stories would be of weary travelers
finding a place of peace, and dreams in their sleep.
Stolen moments of lovers, perhaps a sweet caress.
A young man with a ring, a young girl said yes.
Tree I only imagine, I enjoy the guess.
Gentle breezes that lifted the leaves
to let them gently fall to earth.
Misting rain to meet the tree's thirst,
Perhaps two trees inter-twined are
Two lovers that were curst.

poem by Judy Arline Puckett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Spring Song

dirge of fallen leaves
under my feet tickle my toes
tender green smiles

a koel
perched on
a dessicated tree
cooes lullabys
to fledgelings in the nest
dry branches camouflaged

weary traveller
looks up in hope
through the dry branches...

poem by Indira Babbellapati
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Black Crow

He sees the stormy anger of the world
And wants no part of it at all
And as the weeping leaves of autumn curl
He feels the savage winter call
See far below the dust of conflict settles on the hill
Where there was no escape before
And as he spreads his wings and soars up to another level
He brings the icy prophecies of war
Black crow, black crow, tell me where you really go
When you fly into the sunset, high in evening sky,
Black crow, black crow, tell me what you really know
Will we flourish in this hurricane, or will we fall and die?
While children lose their souls and so much more
To ragged armies of the field
A vicious fanfare cries appeasing hungry savages
To trigger that their fate is surely sealed
I wonder where that black crow sleeps as day beckons the night
Or if he even sleeps at all
I wonder what he thinks of all the human traffic far below
Thats struggled on the road so, so long
Tell me black crow, black crow (solely? ) you pass above
Understanding everything but you know nothing at all
Black crow black crow, tell me what you really know
Do you understand the pain that we feel down here at all

song performed by by Jamiroquai
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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At crow's nest pass

At Crow's Nest Pass the mountains rend
Themselves apart, the rivers wend
A lawless course about their feet,
And breaking into torrents beat
In useless fury where they blend
At Crow's Nest Pass.

The nesting eagle, wise, discreet,
Wings up the gorge's lone retreat
And makes some barren crag her friend
At Crow's Nest Pass.

Uncertain clouds, half-high, suspend
Their shifting vapours, and contend
With rocks that suffer not defeat;
And snows, and suns, and mad winds meet
To battle where the cliffs defend
At Crow's Nest Pass.

poem by Emily Pauline Johnson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Poem Tree

The poem tree is a very safe haven,
for birds and fowl, a hawk, a raven, or
a little barn owl.The tree could be a
silhouette, or the finest place to raise
your pet.The poem tree could bear
the fruit of life.Such as apples and
pears, with morning dew.A wonderful
place to play the flute.The poem tree
could have a nest.Giving birds with
eggs, a place to rest.It could capture
a kite who someone lost, or be bitten
by the morning frost.It could capture
a balloon, which went astray, or drop
all its leaflets by the bay.The poem
tree could have a lollipop, or maybe
a candycane, umbrella branches, to
stop the rain.The tree could protect
all animals, from an oncoming flood,
and keep all the tree bugs out of the
mud.Above the tree the sun will shine.
Home for a raccoon, or a porcupine..

The Poem Tree by Kim Robin Edwards
Copyright 2011.All rights reserved.

poem by Kim Robin Edwards
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The House Of Dust: Part 01: 02: One, from his high bright window in a tower

One, from his high bright window in a tower,
Leans out, as evening falls,
And sees the advancing curtain of the shower
Splashing its silver on roofs and walls:
Sees how, swift as a shadow, it crosses the city,
And murmurs beyond far walls to the sea,
Leaving a glimmer of water in the dark canyons,
And silver falling from eave and tree.

One, from his high bright window, looking down,
Peers like a dreamer over the rain-bright town,
And thinks its towers are like a dream.
The western windows flame in the sun's last flare,
Pale roofs begin to gleam.

Looking down from a window high in a wall
He sees us all;
Lifting our pallid faces towards the rain,
Searching the sky, and going our ways again,
Standing in doorways, waiting under the trees . . .
There, in the high bright window he dreams, and sees
What we are blind to,—we who mass and crowd
From wall to wall in the darkening of a cloud.

The gulls drift slowly above the city of towers,
Over the roofs to the darkening sea they fly;
Night falls swiftly on an evening of rain.
The yellow lamps wink one by one again.
The towers reach higher and blacker against the sky.

poem by Conrad Potter Aiken
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Tower

One, from his high bright window in a tower,
Leans out, as evening falls,
And sees the advancing curtain of the shower
Splashing its silver on roofs and walls:
Sees how, swift as a shadow, it crosses the city,
And murmurs beyond far walls to the sea,
Leaving a glimmer of water in the dark canyons,
And silver falling from eave and tree.

One, from his high bright window, looking down,
Peers like a dreamer over the rain-bright town,
And thinks its towers are like a dream.
The western windows flame in the sun's last flare,
Pale roofs begin to gleam.

Looking down from a window high in a wall
He sees us all;
Lifting our pallid faces towards the rain,
Searching the sky, and going our ways again,
Standing in doorways, waiting under the trees . . .
There, in the high bright window he dreams, and sees
What we are blind to,-we who mass and crowd
From wall to wall in the darkening of a cloud.

The gulls drift slowly above the city of towers,
Over the roofs to the darkening sea they fly;
Night falls swiftly on an evening of rain.
The yellow lamps wink one by one again.
The towers reach higher and blacker against the sky.

poem by Conrad Potter Aiken
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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King Of Pain

Theres a little black spot on the sun today
Its the same old thing as yesterday
Theres a black hat caught in a high tree top
Theres a flag pole rag and the wind wont stop
I have stood here before inside the pouring rain
With the world turning circles running round my brain
I guess Im always hoping that youll end this reign
But its my destiny to be the king of pain
Theres a little black spot on the sun today
Thats my soul up there
Its the same old thing as yesterday
Thats my soul up there
Theres a black hat caught in a high tree top
Thats my soul up there
Theres a flag pole rag and the wind wont stop
Thats my soul up there
I have stood here before inside the pouring rain
With the world turning circles running round my brain
I guess Im always hoping that youll end this reign
But its my destiny to be the king of pain
Theres a fossil thats trapped in a high cliff wall
Thats my soul up there
Theres a dead salmon frozen in a waterfall
Thats my soul up there
Theres a blue whale beached by a springtides ebb
Thats my soul up there
Theres a butterfly trapped in a spiders web
Thats my soul up there
I have stood here before inside the pouring rain
With the world turning circles running round my brain
I guess Im always hoping that youll end this reign
But its my destiny to be the king of pain
Theres a king on a throne with his eyes torn out
Theres a blind man looking for a shadow of doubt
Thers a rich man sleeping on a golden bed
Theres a skeleton choking on a crust of bread
King of pain
Theres a red fox thorn by a huntsmans pack
Thats my soul up there
Theres a black winged gull with a broken back
Thats my soul up there
Theres a little black spot on the sun today
Its the same old thing as yesterday
I have stood here before inside the pouring rain
With the world turning circles running round my brain
I guess Im always hoping that youll end this reign
But its my destiny to be the king of pain
King of pain
King of pain
King of pain
Ill always be king of pain
Ill always be king of pain
Ill always be king of pain...

song performed by by Police
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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King Of Pain

Theres a little black spot on the sun today
Its the same old thing as yesterday
Theres a black hat caught in a high tree top
Theres a flag pole rag and the wind wont stop
I have stood here before inside the pouring rain
With the world turning circles running round my brain
I guess Im always hoping that youll end this reign
But its my destiny to be the king of pain
Theres a little black spot on the sun today
Thats my soul up there
Its the same old thing as yesterday
Thats my soul up there
Theres a black hat caught in a high tree top
Thats my soul up there
Theres a flag pole rag and the wind wont stop
Thats my soul up there
I have stood here before inside the pouring rain
With the world turning circles running round my brain
I guess Im always hoping that youll end this reign
But its my destiny to be the king of pain
Theres a fossil thats trapped in a high cliff wall
Thats my soul up there
Theres a dead salmon frozen in a waterfall
Thats my soul up there
Theres a blue whale beached by a springtides ebb
Thats my soul up there
Theres a butterfly trapped in a spiders web
Thats my soul up there
I have stood here before inside the pouring rain
With the world turning circles running round my brain
I guess Im always hoping that youll end this reign
But its my destiny to be the king of pain
Theres a king on a throne with his eyes torn out
Theres a blind man looking for a shadow of doubt
Thers a rich man sleeping on a golden bed
Theres a skeleton choking on a crust of bread
King of pain
Theres a red fox thorn by a huntsmans pack
Thats my soul up there
Theres a black winged gull with a broken back
Thats my soul up there
Theres a little black spot on the sun today
Its the same old thing as yesterday
I have stood here before inside the pouring rain
With the world turning circles running round my brain
I guess Im always hoping that youll end this reign
But its my destiny to be the king of pain
King of pain
King of pain
King of pain
Ill always be king of pain
Ill always be king of pain
Ill always be king of pain...

song performed by by Police
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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0003 Reborn Metaphor

I was born to be a metaphor;
Darwin, embarrassed, did not talk of me;
I did not fit into his scheme of things; I,
knowing secrets of the tears of things,
while he used his fine mind
(which is, so obviously, beyond the physical)
to deny that world, the metaphysical..

To be a metaphor
you need to know your place;
stay around too long, you lose
that vital force; no one believes
in the unbelievable – when there’s no mystery,
that’s the end of metaphor for man.

Better choose a quiet place,
some corner of a foreign field
only to be found in mind,
do the necessary – a few dry leaves and sticks
to lay false trail – and the semblance of a nest; you,
a place apart..

The desert, then, was easier; Egypt understood;
the sun rose warm
on the eggshell of pure thought;
Greece, appreciative, then found a name for me;
a whole race followed in my rise;
Rome was, how to put it, unoriginal;
America called a dry town, in an arid zone, after me;
may yet know me, nested in my cruellest magnificence,
ash and twisted steel and concrete, office equipment;
I a metaphor, awaiting a new birth.

poem by Michael Shepherd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Tree

The weathered tree stripped bare
broken branches hang still
as though to scar its nature
no birds nest here any more
a thing of beauty has passed
into a beauty of another kind
colourless in the backdropp of sky
roots rise and fall into the ground
etchings of forgotten loves
remain as eternal memories
no lovers shade here now
the tree stands as though defiant
unwilling to relinquish to time
that which grew so tall
not dead, perhaps dying
stripped and broken it stands
the weathered tree
a work of life's true beauty

poem by Matthew Holloway
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Tree by the Road

A naked tree
stands apart.

Cars pass
with freeway speed
bending thin branches
in their own furious wind.

Slowing
I see black leaves
on nearly empty limbs…

No, not leaves,
but dark pears,

or glass balls left to fall
from a forgotten Christmas tree

abandoned, alone, without cheer,

when, roaring, an eighteen wheeler
spews misty twisters.

Then leaves, ornaments, and pears
all rise in a singular mass
of flashing black wings
cawing into the
grey winter
air.

poem by Steven Federle
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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True Harmony

I sit in the tree
the breeze makes the branches sway
birds sing lovely songs

The air smells like spring
cherries from the tree taste sweet
The bark feels rough

Clouds dance in the air
The world is very peaceful
Way up in the tree

Being in the sky
puts me in touch with nature
it's true harmony

I long for the days
up high among the branches
Where earth took over

poem by Tori Beals
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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King Of Pain

Lyrics by sting
Theres a little black spot on the sun today
Its the same old thing as yesterday
Theres a black hat caught in a high tree top
Theres a flag-pole rag and the wind wont stop
I have stood here before inside the pouring rain
With the world turning circles running round my brain
I guess Im always hoping that youll end this reign
But its my destiny to be the king of pain
Theres a fossil thats trapped in a high cliff wall
Thats my soul up there
Theres a dead salmon frozen in a waterfall
Thats my soul up there
Theres a blue whale beached by a springtimes ebb
Thats my soul up there
Theres a butterfly trapped in a spiders web
I have stood here before inside the pouring rain
With the world turning circles running round my brain
I guess Im always hoping that youll end this reign
But its my destiny to be the king of pain
Theres a king on a throne with his eyes torn out
Theres a blind man looking for a shadow of doubt
Theres a rich man sleeping on a golden bed
Theres a skeleton choking on a crust of bread
Theres a red fox torn by a huntsmans pack
Theres a black-winged gull with a broken back
Theres a little black spot on the sun today
Its the same old thing as yesterday
I have stood here before inside the pouring rain
With the world turning circles running round my brain
I guess Im always hoping that youll end this reign
But its my destiny to be the king of pain
Queen of pain
Ill always be queen of pain
Ill always be queen of pain

song performed by by Alanis Morissette
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Baobab Tree

under whose branches lions lie down
dreaming in the sun,
where baboons sometimes play,
where elephants rip off some bark
and when you walk around it,
its branches look like rows of spears,
and birds do fly up, and bees buzz around it,
and when you come in its shade, smell its fruit,
its leaves and bark does not look similar
to any other tree.

poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Thunder Cracks In The Gray Sky

The thunder cracks in the gray sky and the rain it is bucketing down
Above the high and dry and bare paddocks by the river that flows by the town
On those paddocks that need heaps of rain it has been awhile since they were green
This countryside is looking dry 'tis as dry as it ever has been
His feathers soaked wet from the rain the magpie flutes on the blackwood tree
From it's drenched leaves the rain drips and drips by the river that flows to the sea
To the river adown the bare hill the water in rivulets run
As soon as the rain will have stopped they will quickly dry out in the sun
The Summer has been warm and dry and the long range weather forecast is for a dry Fall
An hour of heavy thunder rain of little use though better than nothing at all
For months the farmers have been praying for rain their prayers in part answered today
But the sun shines across the brown hills and the rain clouds are clearing away
And the magpie shakes his feathers dry and no rain drops left to drip from the trees
And white butterflies flitting about in the sunshine and feshening breeze.

poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Was Ever Gone?

what makes you think i was ever gone?
i am the embrace of your lips just before sound!
leaves turn and fall like lovers separated,
but the tree stands firm and strong!
the robin's nest carried away by rats,
yet wings leave footprints in the sky.
clouds seem to know, and tread softly,
in respect for that which cannot be taken.
mountains undress in the darkest hour,
while all else sleep inside the shell.
the lantern searches the old woman's face,
for the coming and going of rabid mice.
the stink on your pillow tugs at your ears,
and your feet quiver in dreamless sleep.
i am the nothing you brush against,
that makes your soul stop and weep!
what makes you think i was ever gone?

poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Self Portrait

The willow tree stands alone.
It grows alone, relying only on the Sun and the Rain.

This willow tree offers shade.
It only shades during the day, casting a monster
of a shadow in the mornings and evenings,
its size shrinking in between. Its shadow
is solid in some places, but has empty
places of sunlight dotting the ground beneath
it, allowing room for purity among the darkness.

This willow tree is immune to the Wind.
It bends whichever way it needs to survive,
sacrificing its tiny leaves to be carried away.

This willow tree is a home.
Small birds build nests on its branches,
laying eggs that will bring new Life to the World.
The nest is supported. Some things of little
weight can be supported, but anything that drags
the branches too close to the ground
will be dropped so the tree can be saved.

This willow tree is weak.
As it grows, its branches come closer and closer
to the ground, for it cannot support the weight
of itself anymore. It cannot help its own soul.
With one swing of an ax, the tree will be felled.
It will be finished, left there to be eaten
and burrowed in and rotted away by the Earth.

poem by Zoe Guillory
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Robbin Tree

The Robin begins to build her nest
in the gnarled tree;

the twigs are twisted;

the branches lack leaves;

and the nest is exposed
offering no shelter.

She puts another twig
into the tree fork;
but it falls to the ground.

She looks away west
and leaves.

Her wings
flapping
out a message:

Nature is abandoning us.

poem by Lonnie Hicks
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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