Varanda
Siting outside in the varanda
I am enjoying the summer in Brazil
The passion fruit tree is blooming
The bloom of the passion tree is colorful
It is amazing to see it
The palm trees are tall
I can see it
This is a tropical country
This hot weather is beautiful
I could have it all
Year around if I lived in Brazil
But I don't
I live in Canada
poem by Aldo Kraas
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Dads Cherry Tree
There was a large cherry tree in my yard
This tree t’was my dad ‘s favorite
And as the cherry tree grew up to thy sky
He did have a decision
whether or not to chop the tree down
Or risk it falling and killing him
For you see this old cherry tree did
Stand right over his bed
So if the wind kick up or lightning did strike
Would be his end for
The tree would fall and he would go
So unfortunately with the tree
So he would make great decision
And hopefully make it right
It took him many years and many a time
He thought’s the did spite
Him for the year’s went by and the cherry tree
Got more demised, nearer to the bed
As he would lay and begin to wonder
Will this take off my head
So as the year the did expire
Then He finally said
I will take the old tree down
Above my own bed
And the so alas the cherry fell
The tree would breathe its last
And be cut down to stump and be
Safe for dad once again
The tree was made low and the branches did go
Right into the meat smoker
But out of the ash cloud grew another
through the thorns and choker
the tree did live on in another a tree that grew
and so the tree was reborn
from a cherry, the trees great fruit
and so this little sapling grew and it grew
and it grew 1,2,3 foot by the crowing of the year
and so it grew and it got taller
as a little sapling then might or would do
and the tree got no smaller
as it grew to be as tall as dad and it was
staring him in the eye
he said we got to dig this up
look at the size
for you see the little sapling was right in my garden
and blocking the sunshine
so we dug and dug and dug
it took a lot of time
but finally we got up pulled it out of the ground
and moved to better spot
were it would live in peace and harmony
the place we set was not to hot
But it was not to cold either, it was
It was a nice spot with all
of the tree for the young cherry’s company
the tree grew very tall
And with it happy position that there was
it was a great sight
To see this cherry tree again live
And never have to fight
Now when my dad he did see this
he was so overjoyed
He had his cherry tree’s son and offspring
And never again did he toy
With planting or cutting down old cherry trees
He loved his tree so dear
That he would be indeed collecting all the cherries
And never wrong was he steered
poem by Timothy Young
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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
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A Old Ginkgo Tree Meditating on the Past at U of T
A ginkgo tree
The same period as dinosaur
Looking at the ginkgo tree
Meditating on the past as I saw
Oh! Old-time Canada I saw
A lemon tree
With rain dropping on the leaves more
Looking at the ginkgo tree
Meditating on the past as I saw
Oh! Old-time Canada I saw
A banana tree
With laker and growing throughout lake shore
Looking at the ginkgo tree
Meditating on the past as I saw
Oh! Old-time Canada I saw
A fern tree
With tropical rain forest and dinosaur
Looking at the ginkgo tree
Meditating on the past as I saw
Oh! Old-time Canada I saw
Feb 17,2008 Hormish Garden of Toronto 7: 00 to 9: 30pm
poem by Hormish Woo
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A Colourful Family Tree
This world is made up of colours and,
I am glad to come up from a colourful family tree.
There are many colours around us and,
You can enjoy the colours in your bathrooms too;
For nature is full of colours!
Like the human beings,
I an brown in colour and my mother is a black woman from Africa.
I have many relatives all over the continets and,
My father is a white man from the U.S.A.
Four of my aunties are from Australia, Japan, Brazil and the U.K.;
Four of my uncles are from India, Mexico, Canada and Denmark;
So i grew up among many colours of this world.
A colourful family tree is what i came from and,
I am very glad to meet various colours in my life time;
For a long the lines of my growth,
I have come to love all the colours around me.
Colours are very beautiful and we need them around us,
They are in your offices and your houses too;
Yes, we need all the colours to beautify things around us.
Black is beautiful and white is beautiful too,
For we were made from the Creator with colours!
And i am very glad to be part of this family tree.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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The Passion Fruits
there were too many passion
fruits in the garden
of my Papa
it is a vine that climbs
atop trees
covering them
they all fall this summer
these ripe passion fruits that most of our neighbors
know nothing about
how they taste what is their use
&
as a consequence of that ignorance
no one takes a passion fruit
for a cold refreshing juice this summer
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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So Any Team As Such
Though Brazil has the class and Brazil has the flair
Who wins the F I F A World cup i can't say i much care
'Tis more about Nationalism than 'tis about sport
So any team as such i do not support.
The top soccer players are paid millions a year
And stories of their greatness we are obliged to hear
Millions in money for just chasing a ball
It hardly does seem for to make sense at all.
When people are homeless and dying of hunger every day
Yet many spend their savings watching millionaires play
For selves, Nation and glory in the World's biggest game
Many find satisfaction in other people's fame.
If the money they spent on creating millionaires
And making small gods of renowned soccer players
Was spent on the people of assistance in need
To a better life for millions that surely would lead.
Brazil has the class and Brazil has the skill
But millions go hungry in poor old Brazil
And 'tis more about Nationalism than 'tis about sport
So any team as such i do not support
poem by Francis Duggan
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Also, there are now new laws in Brazil which create incentives for Argentine and Latin American films to be premiered and distributed in Brazil and vice versa.
quote by Walter Salles
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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the Brazil in my mind
where is the last beat?
i should have told you it is somewhere in Brazil,
no, i am not reminded of the soft blue sea
and the white sands
no, it is not the glow of the light in the cottage
on those blackouts of my mind,
you have seen it, somewhere in the pages of the book
that i did not finish
my heart wants to die still in my country
despite its prison bars
but i must give credits to Brazil
whose hands shall caress me with the joys of my imagination
before i die
my heart still utters the word life
despite the
disappointment
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Rachel(this girl)
Rachel(this girl)
please dont leave me
your like a potato
i need to put you in the fridge
you atre too hot you burn my heart
please dont leave me
you like a passion fruit
because you have passion
you must be god
because you send me to heaven(because of your passion like a passion fruit)
when we touch
i can feel PASSION
like when i touch a passion fruit
electricity sparks between us
like when you get an electric shock(but one that doesnt hurt)
poem by RebeCCA Black
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Where have all the trees gone Dad?
Dad! When I was in school the teacher showed me a picture of a tree
I've never seen one of those before, tall and handsome and brown and green you see
Do you remember seeing a tree when you were young? My teacher says there were many
She says that they grew all over the world but now days there aren't any
What did they look like? Did they blow in the wind?
Did the leaves fall in the autumn or was it in spring?
How high did they grow? Did they sway to and fro?
Did they look pretty covered in winters first fall of snow?
Dad, teacher says they'll grow no more, she says the climate has changed forever
She says we're all poorer now and explained to us how we'll have to suffer together
I heard that there was a tree that grew as tall as a skyscraper
But they cut it down and mulched it up to make us all new paper
It would be nice to see trees growing proud and strong
Reaching up to the sky with their branches so long
But that's just a dream I know I'll never see
It's just a vision in a picture never to be reality for me
My teacher said there used to be birds that lived amongst the bows
They flew around from branch to branch but we don't have those either now
What are nuts and berries and fruit the trees all used to bear?
My teacher says they were things we could eat at the end of every year
Well do you remember seeing a tree when you were young then Dad?
The like of which I have just explained and a pleasure I've never had
What do you mean they died out long ago, long before you were born
Now I'll never know why we cut them all down and my heart will always be torn.
poem by Glenn Ford
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Plastic Passion
Plastic passion is a hard to handle
Plastic passion is a sold out scandal
Oh it's a plastic passion
It's a plastic passion
Plastic passion is the ladies lover
Plastic passion is the marble mother
Oh it's a plastic passion
It's a plastic passion
Plastic passion is a diamond delight
Plastic passion is the nadir of night
Oh it's a plastic passion
It's a plastic passion
It's a plastic passion
Plastic passion is a hycoscine heart
Plastic passion is a transparent tart
Oh it's a plastic passion
It's a plastic passion
Plastic passion is a gold guarantee
The plastic passion is murdering me
Oh it's a plastic passion
It's a plastic passion
It's a plastic passion
song performed by by Cure
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Tropical Trees
A tropical disease may result,
The visit defines a point in our lives,
The country is poetic, like a river
Or like a garden or enclosure.
The palm trees shed their look
On our eyes like awed beings,
In strong containment of piety.
It is a bent door like a building of heaven.
The disease spreads fast from the bloom
Of the trees as if tropical diseases are real.
We need no trophy, no graceless entry
Into the heaven so bland,
When health at home is not of the tropics.
poem by Naveed Akram
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A Tree's Fruit
Good fruit or bad fruit, a tree can only bear one,
This parable was taught by God's one and only Son.
First mentioned by John as a warning for the Pharisees to heed,
But being blind to The Truth, most of them would not believe.
Your life is the tree and your deeds are the fruit,
This is a simple analogy that it hard to dispute.
But the Pharisees who knew the Word and lived in the land,
Were rebuked by John the Baptist, as they didn't understand.
Christians need to produce fruit for the Lord and nothing less,
And all the fruit that we produce should be fruits of righteousness.
Our old nature will produce fruit that comes from the past,
Not only is this fruit bad, but it's the kind that won't last.
Not only is bearing good fruit The Lord's heart desire,
But trees that continue to bear bad fruit may be cast in the fire.
Within your own heart is where the good or bad fruit is stored,
And by your fruits men will know you, is made clear by The Lord.
The fruit of righteousness is a tree of life, was once said,
However, a tree that bears bad fruit may be eternally dead.
What fruit you produce is strictly your choice my dear friend,
And by this choice you will either be blessed or condemned.
( 03/2002)
The Sour Lemon Tree
A sour lemon tree flower attracts the bee
While its fruit is bitter not so its flower
White is its flower sweet and very pretty
Only the fruit is bitter and that's just a pity
As the beauty of its flower resist not a bee
It's the simple truth
Or see the sour lemon tree
With fruit that is bitter bears a lemon tree
But useful is its fruit good for everyday use
Once said a bee... your flower is very sweet
It carries fragrance scented out in the street
Yet bears you fruit bitter no one wants to eat
It's partly the truth
Or see the sour lemon tree
A citrus tree with fruit no other tree bears
Then out of the tree came a nice neat voice
'Twas like a voice of one who's very wise
This is what it said trees are not so free
One made a decree for every bearing tree
It's partly the truth
Or see the sour lemon tree
The Creator decides the fruit a tree bears
Whether it be bitter or whether it be sweet
The Creator decrees for every bearing tree
To bring forth fruit ordained for it to bear
Then sweet or bitter bears a tree its fruit
It's the simple truth
Or see the sour lemon tree.
poem by Clarence Prince
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A, B, C to X, Y, Z!
To feed my mind and, to feed your brain!
Brazil and brazil;
But, most people only go to church without reading the Bible! !
And, they always miss the truth as spoken in the Bible.
Some people sleep on feathers and others sleep on woods,
From A, B, C to X, Y, Z!
And like the summer hut in the land of your muse;
But, it is time for us to know the truth.
The attention,
The attraction,
The affection;
But, don't afflict others in the name of hatred!
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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The Great Footballers Of Brazil
Unrivalled for their football skill
The great footballers of Brazil
And though they too have known of defeat
In the World Cup one of the hardest teams to beat
The present World Champions are Italy
The World's best team as most would agree
But in the showpiece of World Football
Brazil have the best record of all
To Italy the 2006 World Champions well done
They were the best and the best won
But in 2010 their title they defend
A hard task of that why pretend
And one of their main threats is surely Brazil
A team known for their football skill.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Little palm tree, stop crying, you child is the tall palm tree.
The Last Rose Of The Fall
Her pink petals strewn upon the grass beside her mother tree
In full bloom a thing of Nature so beautiful to see
Where the gleaners of Nature's decay grubs, slugs and insects crawl
Last week she looked so beautiful the last rose of the Fall.
So bare and thorny looking without her leaves and flowers
The rose tree looks forlorn in the cool Autumn showers
Next Summer again pink roses she will wear
The rose tree in bloom has a beauty that's rare.
The beauty of Nature is seen Worldwide
In town parks and gardens and in the countryside
And Nature herself she lives on every shore
The one destined to live forever more.
For the gleaners of Nature who live on decay
The beautiful rose petals on the grass lay
But the rose whose life span can be measured in hours
Her fate it is not any different to ours.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Oh unchanging tree
Such a beautiful thing Is a tree.
In summer, in winter, in spring, in fall
the beauty of a tree, doesn't change at all
The leaves fall to the ground
all the richest beautiful color
can be found
The snow falls
but it doesn't hurt the tree,
it just lays on it's branches
like frosting on a cake
Then it gets warm, the snow melts.
Say goodbye to to winter, say hello to sping.
New life is such a beautiful thing
But so is the tree, the beautiful mighty tree.
That stands alone as the seasons pass
as when you were old or just a lass.
A tree must have a heart, because when it falls to the ground.
No Joy can be found..
So when you see a tree say hello, they can get lonely you know.
Tell them a story, tell them a poem, they will listen.
This I know
poem by Summer Song
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Where Is My Passion
Where is my passion
Far too much pain
Where is my passion
Must I love in vain?
Where is my passion
I need must know
Where is my passion
I want so much to grow
Where is my passion
Lost in your lips
Where is my passion
I feel for your kiss
Where is my passion
Lost in your eyes
Where is my passion
Release me to fly
Where is my passion
There in your hands
Where is my passion
Touch me…expand
Where is my passion
Please…be a man
poem by Fleurette Elaine Harris
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