Under The Fig Tree
My shelter full of warmth,
Where I'm fully protected,
A place I can call home,
The silence makes it even peaceful,
It's my little La La Land,
I can speak my mind,
I can feel my freedom once again,
The fresh wind brushes pass my skin softly,
Not a dropp of rain can fall on me,
I am fully protected under that tree,
It's more than a tree,
It's a place where my imaginary turns to reality,
Where I explore my dreams,
A place full of wonders,
A place where miracles take place,
A tree that bears fruits,
Under the fig tree.
poem by Marlene Rashidi
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
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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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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Life goes on
.
A lightning blasted tree still stands.
It bears no hint of greenery
but Mother Nature understands.
The tree provides a haven
for lesser creatures in her care.
A place to nest a place to rest
small creatures living everywhere.
Wherever they find suits them best.
The tree though dead still sustains life
as its substance rots away.
A sanctuary free from strife
the tree providing still today.
Although it’s dead the blasted tree
still serves a purpose faithfully.
17-Apr-08
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Afternoon In The Cemetery
A dog with a lame leg drags itself around the tombs
Mrs. watson talks with someone whos been dead for years
A sickly smell of urine rising from her tights
Two old ladies on a park bench sitting silent already dead
What a wonderfull place to have a cup of tea
What a wonderfull place to read a book bout love
What a wonderfull place to sit around with me under a tree
On an afternoon in the cemetery
Millions of flies spiral around a cross before they land
In a fresh grave someone dug last night
The little chappel looks so sad even the flowers seem to cry
And all those people seem to wait for the moment they will die
What a wonderfull place to have a cup of tea
What a wonderfull place to read a book bout
What a wonderfull place to sit around with me under a tree
On an afternoon in the cemetery
song performed by by Fury In The Slaughterhouse
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Throw Down A Line
Throw down a line, help a poor boy
Whos drowning in the stormy sea
Throw down a line, help a poor boy
Whos hanging in a nowhere tree
Have you got a place for me
Men are tied in chains of silence
I look on violence, up, down, left and right
Is there no hope of light
The peaceful hand that once caressed me
Hurts like the rest, because its turned to stone
Talons of steel have grown
Throw down a line, help a poor boy
Whos drowning in the stormy sea
Throw down a line, help a poor boy
Whos hanging in a nowhere tree
Have you got a place for me
Yeah, oh help me, yeah
Throw down a line, help a poor boy
Whos drowning in the stormy sea
Throw down a line, help a poor boy
Whos hanging in a nowhere tree
Have you got a place for me
See the moon, its getting nearer
But no more clearer than the earth below
What do we really know
I feel the stab of pain returning
Despair is burning in my heart again
Why dont they see the end, ooooh
Throw down a line, help a poor boy
Whos drowning in the stormy sea
Yeah, throw down a line, help a poor boy
Whos hanging in a nowhere tree
Have you got a place for me
Throw down a line, help a poor boy
Whos drowning in the stormy sea
Yeah, throw down a line, help a poor boy
Whos hanging in a nowhere tree
Have you got a place for me
song performed by by Cliff Richard
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A lonely tree
At a road where the road off
where lonesome is the road
at mid of no where
A lonely tree is standing there
waitin no one but the dust
dust of the passing time
tarnish the colour of this tree
this lonely tree to gray
praying in this lonely place
for the passing van
A gray lonely van
for the lonely bird
staying for a while
when the nights come
and days go
the lonely tree; praying there
when the war rage and peace,
walkin shy
the lonely tree praying for the peace
no one is waitin there
but the lonely tree is waitin
the morning sun
waitin the rain in may
waitin winds from the north
waitin when no one is waitin there
and this lonely tree
gave a name for this nameless place
the land of the lonely tree.
poem by Sallam Yassin
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
The balloon in the tree
There high up in the tree
was a bright Red balloon
how did it get there I mused?
Was it put there by a little boy
or did the wind pluck it from his hand?
it was stuck firm on a branch now.
When I came by the tree the next day
I looked up and it was still there
and it wasn't the only balloon
there was a blue one and a yellow one?
The following day the tree was covered in them
all different colours and sizes and shapes
the wind and rain couldn't pop them dead.
Every day more balloons were there in the tree
all different colours, shapes, and sizes,
the wind and rain wouldn't hit them at all.
I was the only person who knew of the tree
it became invisible to anybody else
the balloon tree was there just for me.
When a balloon died another took it's place
so the tree was always covered in balloons
throughout the years it stood proud and strong.
You may say I'm making this up or I'm mad
and there's no such thing as a balloon tree
but I know it's true so that's all that matters.
This is for Chloe, Holly, Katie, and Oliver.
poem by Kevin Halls
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Old Dead Tree
The old dead tree stood
gnarled weather torn;
its limbs were now brittle.
What stories could it tell
of the centuries it had lived,
the passing lives it had seen,
and the storms it had weathered
when it was young and strong.
When its foliage was green
and gave shelter from the rain.
Now it stands bare and broken,
a sorry sight to be seen.
It must have been beautiful
when it was young
with its canopy of green,
and a nesting place for little birds
among its evergreen.
Now they only used it
as a resting place whenever they pass by.
The old dead tree,
which had seen so much life.
17 September 2008
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Through the Green Valley
Through the green valley and past the crooked tree
there lies a place of love and tranquility
where food and water are in abundancy
and children play happy free from tyranny.
Through the green valley and past the golden tree
there is a place of art and wonder and glee
where people sing and dance in jeu d' esprit
and families are happy not refugees.
Through the green valley and past the diamond tree
there a place of beauty a land of the free
where people live in a state of ecstasy
and pain is vanquished there is no misery.
Through the green valley and past the godly tree
There the kingdom of heaven 'grandiosity'
poem by Wade Harlaine
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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When I was only three I planted a tree
When I was three I planted a tree. This was my tree and together we would always be. I gave it love and it to me, and so we were happy, me and my tree.
Then one day they came to see me and my tree. Men with no faces, and they said to me, you must go, and leave this tree.
Buy why I ask. For we've done no harm. Me and my tree, please let us be.
So they left us alone, me and my tree, but only for a while but I could not see.
Then one day they came and took me away. My tree was needed to save the day. Goods it will make it makes perfect sense. So we will take this tree, for wood we need. And so it was done, they took my tree.
And now I look around, my tree I no longer see. Taken from, this tree I planted when I was three.
poem by Brad Milner
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Hill slope
Down on the hill slope a tree was there with flowers on it,
Season came and season goes,
it remain there with shade and fruits to give,
Small wood pecker or big owl,
all were there as it was there home to live,
One day a wood cutter found it useful to him,
he thought it to cut and takes its wood to sell in city,
birds and squirrel on tree helplessly saw the tree,
they tried to make noise,
but it didn't affected the woodcutter in the need
he cut down the tree to take the wood,
the tree on hiill slope became log of wood,
weak protest of bird and animals,
on it was not enough,
to save the tree.
tree full of life became silent as saying what was my fault,
is it only there right to live,
but yes its true only humans here,
are powerfull and can do anything to live and win,
hill slope became barren and dry like desert
poor tree however it was home for many
didn't found the place on to live on earth.
the reason it don't understand
why it is weak and meek.not able to
survive and get its right to stay alive to give shade and life to others.
poem by Hemu Gupta
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Place
There is a place
In my heart that still dances
A place in my soul that sings
- And sings, and dances and dances -
A place so deep, so set
A place that even the mundane drudgery
The routine day-to-day
Can not kill
A place so close, so distant
A place that was, and is yet to come
A place where belief originates and lives
The birth place of
The most human humanity
The most divine divinity
A place where
Majesty, mystery and magic still speak
A place of all origins.
Some will not hear it any longer.
But, I still listen...
Waiting... hoping... trusting...believing...
The Place... is real.
It's way out there - it's everywhere...
It is ever within.
This Place... is my place.
It has called to me by name
Since the day of birth,
It's name is simple and profound;
I call him
Jesus.
He calls me
'My child.'
It's to him we go.
It's for us he came.
He is where I belong.
I am always on the Way
To the Place
Where he is.
The Place... home.
poem by Smoky Hoss
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Under Our Tree
Like fine diamonds, the stars could shine
The evening breeze blowing so fair,
From the dark end I could see none,
And from the light end I could see you come,
The leaves will wither with honour,
Witnessing the arrival of the expected,
Under our tree was a house of love
Midnight approaches for two almost lovers,
Under our tree were moments of glee,
The romantic experiences we saw,
Under our tree was a fairtytale
The sentimental touch,
Under our tree was a moment of relaxation,
The sensetional periodic hugs,
Under that tree was a paradise,
Sitting there, sitting with you
Looking there, looking at stars,
Touching there, touching you legs,
Under our tree was a lost story
It was always you and me there,
The world see but it could never know,
Such our place was so nice to be,
Like proving something to someone,
Someone who is expecting nothing,
In pain and in joy, it remains our tree,
And for what the future has for us,
So shall we always look back at the tree,
And so shall we know where it started,
Under our tree was friendship,
Under our tree was more and more,
Under this tree shall be even more
poem by Gaylord Munemo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Travel to the place...
Travel to the place
Where mind set to peace,
No one can see,
Feel us free.
Travel to the place
Where we can breathe,
Fill our desire,
We wish; we aspire.
Travel to the place
Where we have silence,
Flower of fragrance,
And nature to admire.
Travel to the place
Where we can write,
Lines of rhyme,
At any time.
Travel to the place
Where we have enough space,
Work without race,
No tension on face.
Travel to the place
Where we can dance,
Sing at glance,
Bit of time to romance.
Travel to the place
Where we spread love,
Freedom to serve
And land to move.
Travel to the place
Where we can live,
Of joy and sprinkle its grace,
And do anything, anywhere.
poem by Divyesh J. Shah
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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Dreamworld
Every place I look my world is caving in and
Everything I touch falls to pieces-
I had never felt at home within the old brick house I grew up in and
Though only in my dreams I saw a tornado touch down and
Destroy this house and my family inside-
Clouds come and go and obliterate the sunlight and
Even though the sky is a stunningly picturesque shade of metallic blue-
Every place I look and everything I see-
I see no further than my mind's eye-
Inside of my mind tornadoes are touching down destroying
The essence of this world, clouds obstructing my line of vision and
The sun? Either hidden behind thunderclouds leaving me
Inside complete darkness of oblivion or so bright that its intense rays are blinding me?
The trees- yes, the trees are strong enough to stand the force of the wind-
Trees are my strength and the wonders of the world
I have always behind, always hidden behind and
In my most vivid fantasies have been my sorcerers and my protectors-
A tree shall never perish or be uprooted if I touch it and
I can be a bird, a squirrel or a monarch butterfly
If not just inside the place of my flight of the imagination -
Tornadoes may touch down, snow may fall and the sun may burn out but
By becoming a resident of the wild as my animal and reptile friends-
I can hide behind, inside of or just upon a limb looking down
At the glory and enchantment of the wilderness where
Nobody is cruel, nobody mocks or misunderstands me and
Then everyplace I look the sun will be shining but I shall
Adore the natural light it gives and stand beneath the shade of the tree
When that light becomes to intense to withstand-
Today the sky is that picturesque shade of metallic blue and
All signs of severe weather have disappeared?
I have resigned from reality and made myself a home in the backwoods
Amongst my plant and animal friends and I see no further than my minds eye
Which has dismissed the cruelness of the human world and
Tonight when the moon is full I shall sing a melodious tune with the nightingales and
Dance in celebration- celebration that I have come to realize that
Nobody has to tolerate being tortured and misunderstood-
Even if it is just resigning to one's land of their delusiveness-
There is always a place to run and a place where a person can make
A home for themselves as nobody deserves to live in pain - you can
Just close your eyes and imagine and your dreams shall carry you away…
poem by Claudia Krizay
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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