Tthe trembling leaves of this tree touch my heart like the fingers of an infant child.
aphorism by Rabindranath Tagore from Stray Birds (1916), translated by Rabindranath Tagore
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Shivering
my hands are trembling
on your story
of a plot that vibrates
with fear
like the leaves of an aspen
one autumn breeze
like i were a child
quaking always
asking for more
like the quivering
poplar tree
my shaking knees
on shaky feet
i changed perspective
about this
shivering
i must see
the sparkling lights
from some shivering
crystals
of the chandeliers
of this
old house
where this family
of mine
still thrive
wanting to get
rid of
trembling hands
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I See You in Your Fingers
I see your fingers
I see you in your fingers
I see your history from your fingers
I feel your touch from your fingers
They don't tell a lie to me
They don't give me a fake smile
Or promising kiss
But they give me a warm hold
and tickling touch
I see you from your fingers
I see the truth from your fingers
I see you in your fingers
poem by Maria Sudibyo
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Married to a Tree
I am married to a tree
Whose love is just as coarse
As thou, the bark
That stands still
While my bleeding heart
Doth dry up on your floors
I am married to a tree
Who sways to and fro carelessly
Who is helpless at the woes
Of the wind that causes much a storm
And leaves its menacing trail
For I am married to a tree
With grooves and dents
That frown with age
As I run my fingers down the seams
And am turned off by your despair
I am married to a tree
Whose love is just as damp
Like the leaves that blossom in spring
And die in the autumn, so sad
For I hope that winter will be forgiving
I am married to a tree
But the reason that I wait
Is for the birds that sing and chirp
And compliment the rays
For it is worth my time
I am married to a tree
As condemning as I may be
And selfish that I may seem
For I should commend thee
As you are as nurturing as she.
poem by Antoine La Najja
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The Doves And The Tree
what i first see are the doves hovering on the tree
they are many and the tree looks as though its leaves are plenty
for one thing
the doves when they hover
they hover together
as a flock
and when they leave
they also leave together
as a flock
and the tree can do nothing about it
and thus it happens
the doves all left at the same time leaving the tree to the truth
of its existence
it has no leaves at all this summer
when hot is really hot in here
when all the doves fly away together
the tree
looks like the thin, worn fingers of a very old man
opening, stretching to the skies
praying for mercies
and what about it God?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Kind Of Sorrow, A Secret Suffering
to lose you i know is one kind sorrow
for i claim a loss that i never had even once owned.
a play of words, and i know you do not understand
what each word means, what a punctuation is.
this heart that grieves for what it cannot even touch
with its fragile hands, its trembling fingers
for what i see is but a glimmer
a faint light, a shadow, a hush, a slight glimpse
no one knows what secret suffering is all about
(secret so to say, i give it a language of its own)
a heart that bleeds without drops of blood
a heart injured yet without the bruises and wound
i mix with the crowd just like what we do when we go malling.
i smile like the way all people smile. i always have a glimpse of you.
yet i know, i do not wait for anybody, or anything, this is simply
an impossible endeavor. Clouds that dissipate. Air that vanish.
a door that closes. a bus that leaves. a plane turning into a dot in space.
i look up actually for nothing. i pretend sometimes that there are stars where there are none but black clouds and tree tops.
i look down and only see suffering. Pebbles and gray sands.
i sleep without remembering my dreams. i wake up not thinking
about what to do specifically with my life. I have everything you say.
but since i do not have you, i am still nothing. I am simply arms emptied
of its embrace. I am hands groping with nothing but space.
it does not matter. i touch my chest and feel that i am strong.
i give up the gift of speech. I take in the gift of words written in utter silence.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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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
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The computer tree- algorithm (Sextuple Crystalline Poetry)
A free tree is never rooted
Infinite complete binary tree
A finger tree has internal nodes
Each one in this tree has child nodes
And their connection is a walk
Parents and children walking the tree
Nodes without children are called leaves
While roots are leaves for the finger trees
Very intelligent words tree
Trees-no one-to-one correspondence
Adaptive merging operation
Implementing finger searching trees.
poem by Marieta Maglas
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Child In The Manger
Child in the manger
Infant of mary
Outcast and stranger, lord of all
Child who inherits
All our transgressions
All our demerits on him fall
Once the most holy
Child of salvation
Gently and lowly
Now as our glorious mighty redeemer
See him victorious
Oer each foe
Prophets foretold him
Infant of wonder
Angels behold him on his throne
Worthy our saviour
Of all our praises
Happy forever are his own
song performed by by Michael W. Smith
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Tarzan (A Song)
Deep in the jungle you can hear a yell
Over in the jungle an air plane fell
All the apes came gathered around
To come see this thing that fell to the ground
All inside, none survived
Until the apes heard an infant cry
Aug aug ooga no child for mama Toga
A child for you it fell from the blue
Now the apes they took it home
Mama ape Toga raised it on her own
It grew up, it didn’t take long
Now swinging from the trees it big and strong
Aug aug ooga no child for mama Toga
A child for you it fell from the blue
Some they say, call him Tarzan
Some say half ape, some say half man
Swinging tree to tree not wearing any briefs
Some they say a white chimpanzee
Aug aug ooga no child for mama Toga
A child for you it fell from the blue
Now deep in the jungle and I’ve heard it well
Not to far from where that air plane fell
Some they tried to hunt him but didn’t live to tell
He is the king of the jungle you can hear his yell
All inside, none survived
Until the apes heard an infant cry
Aug aug ooga no child for mama Toga
A child for you it fell from the blue.
poem by Bill Simmons
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A Cautious Listener
when i speak to you
i always keep my own eyes
sometimes when i speak to
some sort of people like you
i am afraid that after i have spoken
my eyes are no longer in their sockets
i get blinded
and then i find myself lost in the
labyrinth of our thoughts
and then i tell you that you are such
a cruel chatter
leaving me trembling with my fingers
trying to find my way back
home
and you tell me
where is home my friend? is there a home for you?
basic as what is home? depends on what home is
and then i begin to bite my nails
i shrink
a small child
asking where mom is where dad is
when house and home are gone
when the stairs are too high
when the lights are turned off and i am outside the door
when all the friends are saying their prayers with their moms
and when it begins to rain
and i have nothing to run to
and so now i am careful when you start talking to me
i touch my eyes feel my eyelashes
for a touch of home
my tongue gets twisted before
but now as careful as a cat, my tongue is a rope tied on a tree
the other end open ended
like a fork of the snake
spelling each word correctly
when you speak i listen
and i will not let you know that i do not easily believe you
i have a book in my head
and it is enough
it is good.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Melody Of My Heart
my heart is on the rise
and fall
my heart's melody is as nice
than all
like the leaves
on the tree by the river
my heart is a melody
to the birds of love,
life and all that worth
as i walked the earth
with the melody
of my heart from then
and sang to my heart a melody
i explore an adventure
of the melody in my heart
and art a melody of my heart
with fingers dancing to the heart
my veins rain with melody of the heart
i feel the heart
in talk and melody
and that melody
is the melody
of my heart
my heart is a melody
to the words of a rhythm
its music from the heart
a melody of emotions,
feelings, love and death
...after all,
it is the melody of my heart
poem by Onalethuso Petruss Ntema
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Touch By Touch
(r. zito/a. barrow/j. esposito)
I can tell by the look in your eyes
That you like what you see
I can tell by the touch of your hand
That youve got what I need
Baby theres no hurry
Weve got no worries
Lets take all night
Give me sweet lovin
Come taste my honey
Into the light
Touch by touch
Your fingers do the talking
I need to hear so much
Touch by touch
Now youre getting closer
To what I want so much
I can tell by the woman in me
Youre the man that I need
So much lovin that comes from your heart
That you give tenderly
Come take my hand
Ill show you where
Where you can lean
Baby theres no hurry
Weve got no worries
Make me believe
Touch by touch
Your fingers do the talking
I need to hear so much
Touch by touch
Chemical reaction
Makes me give it up
Touch by touch
And put your arms around me
Baby wrap me up
Touch by touch
Now youre gettin closer
To what I want so much
song performed by by Diana Ross
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Algorithm of a tree (Sextuple Crystalline Poetry)
(A two line image poem, often with a title, in which euphony is the key factor.
Each line may have 8 or 9 syllables to make a total of seventeen)
A free tree is never rooted,
Infinite complete binary tree.
A finger tree has internal nodes and
Each one in this tree has child nodes.
And their connection is a walk,
Parents and children walking the tree.
Nodes without children are called leaves,
While roots are leaves for the finger trees.
Very intelligent are the words tree,
Trees-no one-to-one correspondence,
Adaptive merging operation,
Implementing finger search trees.
poem by Marieta Maglas
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Get Unstuck
Leaves from the Tree of Life;
brown and withered,
dried with growing old,
dislodged by the touch of Time;
or green,
with veins still swelling
with rising sap,
torn free by an untimely wind.
What are they,
these dancing treasures?
The more the tree creates,
pushing and budding
out of reaching, branching fingers,
the more they spiral down
and spin and congregate
like giant midges
in every gust and eddy.
What are they,
these dancing treasures
separating
from the Tree of Life?
Thoughts. Thoughts. Thoughts.
Each contains in its form
the whole tree.
Each contains in its form
nothing
the denuded tree
cannot do without.
Spiralling, spinning,
congregating,
they clog drains
and streams
and waterways;
make paths treacherous.
Good for nothing
but rotting down
and feeding
the insatiable hunger,
the thousand breathing mouths
of the sangsara!
poem by Brian Taylor
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Child's words
Child's words, in the woods
Through the leaves, to my towns
Hey, hey, where are you?
Child's happiness fill the air
Covering the nervous heart but it still on shine
Child's words, in the seas
Swiming the fishes, around the earth
Hey, hey, who are you?
Child's innocence into the winds
Blowing the seamen and ringing the bell
Child's words, in my heart
Keep it beating, running the blood
Hey, hey, what did you do?
Child's something keep me young
Child's something I never found
poem by Old Amsterdam
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TThe best way to keep loyalty in a man's heart is to keep money in his purse.
Rain (That Never Comes)
revolution,
sexual desire,
holy anger,
the sparrow carved
from a dead tree.
tongue burnt,
the fist and the open hand...
touching the sky
with fingers in the dirt.
kissing, brown leaves,
smoke, an open window.
death, and hunger,
the glass broken,
trembling hands....
raw need, lips bleeding,
hearts wrapped in wheels.
thunder, the taste of lightning,
and rain that never comes!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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In Praise Of Henna
A KOKILA called from a henna-spray:
Lira! liree! Lira! liree!
Hasten, maidens, hasten away
To gather the leaves of the henna-tree.
Send your pitchers afloat on the tide,
Gather the leaves ere the dawn be old,
Grind them in mortars of amber and gold,
The fresh green leaves of the henna-tree.
A kokila called from a henna-spray:
Lira! liree! Lira! liree!
Hasten maidens, hasten away
To gather the leaves of the henna-tree.
The tilka's red for the brow of a bride,
And betel-nut's red for lips that are sweet;
But, for lily-like fingers and feet,
The red, the red of the henna-tree.
poem by Sarojini Naidu
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When I Touch Your Belly
When I touch your belly tears of amazement run down my eyes.
I am so amazed that inside your womb a life lies.
A child that was created all from our love;
God, I can’t believe that in a few weeks you’ll give birth to our miracle of love.
When I touch your belly with my ear;
I can’t believe the heart beat I hear.
It like a little drum beating a message to me;
In the sounds of the beat I swear our child is saying hi daddy.
When I touch your belly I caressing you as well as our child;
I’m caressing you to say thank you for carrying our child.
I could not have chosen a better mother then you.
These are all the things I’m saying when I touch your belly.
Leaves Compared with Flowers
A tree's leaves may be ever so good,
So may its bar, so may its wood;
But unless you put the right thing to its root
It never will show much flower or fruit.
But I may be one who does not care
Ever to have tree bloom or bear.
Leaves for smooth and bark for rough,
Leaves and bark may be tree enough.
Some giant trees have bloom so small
They might as well have none at all.
Late in life I have come on fern.
Now lichens are due to have their turn.
I bade men tell me which in brief,
Which is fairer, flower or leaf.
They did not have the wit to say,
Leaves by night and flowers by day.
Leaves and bar, leaves and bark,
To lean against and hear in the dark.
Petals I may have once pursued.
Leaves are all my darker mood.
poem by Robert Frost
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