Among the leaves [Între frunze]
The garden holds the secret of everlasting bliss
And every blade of grass its passion will fulfill;
It's May, and all the leaves now feel the love's sweet kiss
And its confusing thrill.
The gillyflower bends so charming its rosette,
Carnation in the sun is laughing like a queen,
The vine, on apple tree crawls lovingly and wet
Embracing its trunk green.
The Morning Glories, with the slender arms of theirs,
Climb on the cherry tree and reach the twigs above,
While cherries, near the leaves that are disposed in pairs,
Are blushing and make love.
A song is rising fast towards the sun that shines,
Spreading enormous love and hugs in the blue sky,
A gorgeous charming poem composed of burning lines
And full of secret sigh.
Hush: the entire garden is happy to merge thus
Its feeling with this music that readily receives,
And from its golden depth its sky is watching us
And laughs among the leaves.
poem by Alexandru Macedonski, translated by Octavian Cocoş
Submitted by anonym
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Related quotes
My Drug Dealer
Today-
I asked myself.
Why are the oak tree’s purple?
And the grass blue?
Why is the sky green?
And the leaves hot pink?
Why is that gravel red?
And the rocks of that garden yellow?
Then I thought
and thought over again
a million times
and realized...
I’m high.
I’m up higher than the orange clouds in the green sky
My heart is as bright as the rocks of that garden
My thoughts are as eccentric as the hot pink color of the leaves
that fell from the purple tree
My eyelashes flutter flirtatiously like the way the wind
blows the blue blades of grass around.
Love is a drug,
and I’m high-
You happen to be my dealer.
poem by Breanna Schwartz
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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To A Silvereye
I see you almost every day you fly from tree to tree
And I envy you your happiness for you are wholly free
You tiny insect eating bird in olive fawn and gray
And I feel glad so very glad to see you every day.
No boss to order you around to tell you what to do
Wish you were me dear tiny bird and wish that I were you
For you have freedom in your wings the freedom of the sky
And I envy you your happiness dear tiny silvereye.
On garden tree and green hedgerow close to the homes of men
I see you almost every day you and your tiny kin
From garden tree to garden tree and to and fro you wing
And midst the leaves the sunlit leaves you preen and chirp and sing.
I see you almost every day from tree to tree you fly
And I envy you your happiness the freedom of the sky
And I've a wish a secret wish when my turn come to die
That I will come to life again a tiny silvereye.
poem by Francis Duggan
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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
Chiaroscuro
Bright leaves, tongues of flame
holding slender twigs; those thin pillars
resisting seductive breath of breeze,
binding the tender leaves to more substantial limbs
within the deep core of the whispering tree.
Even the setting sun
cannot penetrate so deeply as this,
where darker leaves
stand in rapt attention
as the night-clad trunk,
solid and unmoving,
dumbly regards neither
retiring sun nor rising silver moon,
but worships only
the empty
blue ether.
poem by Steven Federle
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When Green Leaves Come again
WHEN green leaves come again, my love,
When green leaves come again,--
Why put on such a cloudy face,
When green leaves come again?
'Ah, this spring will be like the last,
Of promise false and vain;
And summer die in winter's arms
Ere green leaves come again.
'So slip the seasons--and our lives;
'T is idle to complain:
But yet I sigh, I scarce know why,
When green leaves come again.'
Nay, lift up thankful eyes, my sweet!
Count equal, lost and gain:
Because, as long as the world lasts,
Green leaves will come again.
For, sure as earth lives under snows,
And Love lives under pain,
'T is good to sing with everything,
'When green leaves come again.'
poem by Dinah Maria Mulock Craik
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Autumn Leaves
I still hearken a little deep
from the rolled out time
the last song of cuckoo
humming through the hot winds.
The scents of last spring-flower
still drift through
my dried up nasal lanes.
Today walking silently
over the crackling autumn leaves
I rue for the withered
bed of roses that once paved my way
towards a breathing heaven of verve.
The parched earth and naked trees
stand before me
like fossils
of the deceased last spring.
The desiccated bed
of my garden-pond
it seems,
has no tears to shed
at her robbed off
once brimming water wealth.
Where are those bunnies
and little squirrels that sprinted,
rollicked and rocked
over my grassy lawn?
Where's grass?
Where's lawn?
Under the searing Sun
where are smiles, glee, bliss and prank?
The dead autumn leaves
under my feet
whispered in husky, crackling tones
the secret of seasons:
"We're dead...interred we reach soon
our mother roots' bed.
We'll sprout again
as leaves tender, sleek and charming...
no death to us...
no dearth
for green-green wealth.
Every autumn is followed
by a new spring.
poem by Sathya Narayana
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A Little Note Of Her Life
she is my wife
she is not a little note of my life
she is occupying the full page
of my ads
for one thing
she keeps cutting all the leaves of the palms in my garden
and it is getting hot in here
when some of the bushes begins to flower
she cuts them all again
leaving my garden empty
except for the bleeding twigs of the tree
leaving the little life of others in misery
she is my wife
when she dies she will still be my wife
that little note of my life
my garden shall be full of flowers
my bushes shall bear more
and all the leaves of the palms in my garden
shall be green till the end of their
spans
opps don't take this against me
she is my wife
and she will always be my wife
a little note of my life
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Giddy Tree' by David Hart
'The Giddy Tree' by David Hart
Giddy tree, oh giddy tree
You tickle my funny bones
You see
Your branches swirl and twirl
And you look all gnarled and
Ready to unfurl
You creak and swing with
Ease
In a sweet swirling and
Affectionate breeze
Feisty tree, oh feisty tree
Butterflies dance
And fall in a frenzy
At your knees
Silly tree, oh silly tree
Ladybugs sunbath and linger
Giddy on your leaves
Limber tree, oh limber tree
You give and you live
A delight to the
Sight
and always you please
Dreamy tree, oh dreamy tree
Love birds surround you
and like adventurous ships sailing on
Sprite and dazzling seas
Charming tree, oh charming tree
Little children squeal and tickle
and swing on your arms in
the breeze oh so fickle
Mysterious tree, oh mysterious tree
The sparrows adore you
The squirrels they implore you
The owls ever asking you,
Who, who, who
The stars with certainty
Know you are no fool
You are a funny and twisty and
dreamy and mysterious and
wonderful and charming
tree, you.
poem by David Hart
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The Giving Tree
Once there was a tree....
and she loved a little boy.
And everyday the boy would come
and he would gather her leaves
and make them into crowns
and play king of the forest.
He would climb up her trunk
and swing from her branches
and eat apples.
And they would play hide-and-go-seek.
And when he was tired,
he would sleep in her shade.
And the boy loved the tree....
very much.
And the tree was happy.
But time went by.
And the boy grew older.
And the tree was often alone.
Then one day the boy came to the tree
and the tree said, 'Come, Boy, come and
climb up my trunk and swing from my
branches and eat apples and play in my
shade and be happy.'
'I am too big to climb and play' said
the boy.
'I want to buy things and have fun.
I want some money?'
'I'm sorry,' said the tree, 'but I
have no money.
I have only leaves and apples.
Take my apples, Boy, and sell them in
the city. Then you will have money and
you will be happy.'
And so the boy climbed up the
tree and gathered her apples
and carried them away.
And the tree was happy.
But the boy stayed away for a long time....
and the tree was sad.
And then one day the boy came back
and the tree shook with joy
and she said, 'Come, Boy, climb up my trunk
and swing from my branches and be happy.'
'I am too busy to climb trees,' said the boy.
'I want a house to keep me warm,' he said.
'I want a wife and I want children,
and so I need a house.
Can you give me a house ?'
' I have no house,' said the tree.
'The forest is my house,
but you may cut off
my branches and build a
house. Then you will be happy.'
And so the boy cut off her branches
and carried them away
to build his house.
And the tree was happy.
But the boy stayed away for a long time.
And when he came back,
the tree was so happy
she could hardly speak.
'Come, Boy,' she whispered,
'come and play.'
'I am too old and sad to play,'
said the boy.
'I want a boat that will
take me far away from here.
Can you give me a boat?'
'Cut down my trunk
and make a boat,' said the tree.
'Then you can sail away...
and be happy.'
And so the boy cut down her trunk
and made a boat and sailed away.
And the tree was happy
... but not really.
And after a long time
the boy came back again.
'I am sorry, Boy,'
said the tree,' but I have nothing
left to give you -
My apples are gone.'
'My teeth are too weak
for apples,' said the boy.
'My branches are gone,'
said the tree. ' You
cannot swing on them - '
'I am too old to swing
on branches,' said the boy.
'My trunk is gone, ' said the tree.
'You cannot climb - '
'I am too tired to climb' said the boy.
'I am sorry,' sighed the tree.
'I wish that I could give you something....
but I have nothing left.
I am just an old stump.
I am sorry....'
'I don't need very much now,' said the boy.
'just a quiet place to sit and rest.
I am very tired.'
'Well,' said the tree, straightening
herself up as much as she could,
'well, an old stump is good for sitting and resting
Come, Boy, sit down. Sit down and rest.'
And the boy did.
And the tree was happy.
poem by Sheldon Allan Silverstein
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Sunday Morning Storm
High above, shifting in the storm
all leaves finally dropped and raked,
the tall tree feigns death,
as emerald grass glows
in winter’s rich rain.
But, late as usual,
the apple tree, like a queen,
spreads her royal leaves
into a golden robe
below.
poem by Steven Federle
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Garden of Heaven
Gentle fog hovers over like a blanket
It hangs over the trees and kisses the grass
Roses are spotted with dew
This day is new
The sun crawls through the fog
Rays give a healthy glow to the garden
The musky smell of rains from yesterday reach my nose
As I drift through the garden on the cobblestone path
I walk lightly not wanting to disturb the peace
Of the crimson roses and gold freckled leaves
This is a time when all is serene
A time when things are looked at differently
A shabby worn house looks like a regal mansion
A wrinkled old maid looks like a glowing slender queen
So I walk through this garden of heaven and earth
And all I feel is happy and content
poem by Avalin Locke
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Twinkletoes
When the sun
Shines through the leaves of the apple-tree,
When the sun
Makes shadows of the leaves of the apple-tree,
Then I pass
On the grass
From one leaf to another,
From one leaf to its brother,
Tip-toe, tip-toe!
Here I go!
poem by Alan Alexander Milne
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The Almond Tree
This snowy cold December morning
the pen
is full of almond branches, leaves
and black gnarled twigs covered
with white blossoms
the scent of that tree is intoxicating
for here on the real earth,
such trees do not ripen,
nor bear the fruit of that tree.
As children our first movement is to sing joyous songs,
innocent voices, filling mountains and dales with arias.
As adults our first movement is toward joy,
yet we give it away, venting full expression
to a gloomy tho not unfamiliar view of life.
once delighted with the world as children
now the world is in a tangle,
for opened eyes have seen only the glow of fires,
massacres, injustices, humiliations,
and the unrelenting shame
of braggarts and despots.
I look at the pen, it's branches, twigs, leaves
now covered, with cherry blossoms
and breathe in the intoxicating scent of that tree
knowing full well such a tree does not grow in dirt
nor can humanity cut down that tree.
That tree does not desire to save
nations or people
heal the sick,
raise the dead,
connive with politicians,
nor change drunkards and fools
with songs of hope...
The only goal is this, only this
that I see and smell the almond tree,
learn to look with love,
heal this heart,
without knowing from various ills-
for that almond tree says to me: Friend
stand in the glow of ripeness with me
not knowing what purpose served.
Through worm filled tufts
in that sweet garden
that almond tree raises it's eyes
and every blossom
enjoys the air it breathes
poem by Liberatore Suffoletta
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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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A Song Of Love
A song of love
is the sweetest song,
any mortal will ever hear.
It is sung by a choir of angels,
with cherub faces,
and long golden flowing hair.
The song of love
is the silvery glint,
on a moonstone,
captured by one’s eye.
The bright twinkle,
which holds a heavenly sigh.
The song of love
is the stars that rush around your head.
The smile so serine,
that entraps the lonely heart.
The music that sweeps you off your feet,
and leaves you dancing in the air.
The song of love
is the sweetest song,
any mortal will ever hear.
It starts with the first kiss,
which leaves you wanting more,
and will never let you go.
poem by David Harris
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The Maple
is a system of posture for wood.
A way of not falling down
for twigs that happens
to benefit birds. I don't know.
I'm staring at a tree,
at yellow leaves
threshed by wind and want you
reading this to be staring
at the same tree. I could
cut it down and laminate it
or ask you to live with me
on the stairs with the window
keeping an eye on the maple
but I think your real life
would miss you. The story
here is that all morning
I've thought of the statement
that art is about loneliness
while watching golden leaves
become unhinged.
By ones or in bunches
they tumble and hang
for a moment like a dress
in the dryer.
At the laundromat
you've seen the arms
thrown out to catch the shirt
flying the other way.
Just as you've stood
at the bottom of a gray sky
in a pile of leaves
trying to lick them
back into place.
Sleep On Her Lap!
Laying in the garden putting my head on her lap
Feeling her love in this charming nap
Below the tree, garden full of flowers
Dreaming in her love droping like rain showers
Touching my hair with her beautiful hand
Giving peace to my sleep in her fantasy land
Waking in the need of her desperate love
Smiling with the sparkling eyes, my above
Kiss on my lips, Hands on my cheeks
Her beauty and love is all what I seeks
Letting me sleep, stoping me to say
Wishing her heart, Forever this love stay
Caring for my sleep in her bed of roses,
The more I sleep, The more she gets closes!
poem by Legendary Gamer
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The Leaf And The Tree
When will you learn, myself, to be
a dying leaf on a living tree?
Budding, swelling, growing strong,
Wearing green, but not for long,
Drawing sustenance from air,
That other leaves, and you not there,
May bud, and at the autumn's call
Wearing russet, ready to fall?
Has not this trunk a deed to do
Unguessed by small and tremulous you?
Shall not these branches in the end
To wisdom and the truth ascend?
And the great lightning plunging by
Look sidewise with a golden eye
To glimpse a tree so tall and proud
It sheds its leaves upon a cloud?
Here, I think, is the heart's grief:
The tree, no mightier than the leaf,
Makes firm its root and spreads it crown
And stands; but in the end comes down.
That airy top no boy could climb
Is trodden in a little time
By cattle on their way to drink.
The fluttering thoughts a leaf can think,
That hears the wind and waits its turn,
Have taught it all a tree can learn.
Time can make soft that iron wood.
The tallest trunk that ever stood,
In time, without a dream to keep,
Crawls in beside the root to sleep.
poem by Edna St. Vincent Millay
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Adam and Eve Apple Fantasy
I am bored Adam
I am bored Eve
Let's walk together in the garden
It is afternoon Adam
It is afternoon Eve
Our tummies are empty
Let's have something to eat
It is beautiful garden of Eden
How wonderful the fruit trees!
Adam look honey
This beautiful Apple tree
No Eve this is the knowledge tree
Look Eve there is sign in the sky
Can't you see?
Lord command 'Don't eat from the apple tree'
Ha Ha Ha
Who is that?
I am serpent of the garden
Listen Adam
Listen Eve
Go pick the big apple
from the tree
Adam my honey
Do you hear me?
My stomach is aching
go get me this delicious apple
Eve I would not disobey the Lord
Oh Adam
Oh Honey
You seduce me Eve
Ooh Adam
Ooh Eve
Something happened after
we ate the apple
Go Adam get some Fig leaves
Adam Let's rest
under the shaded tree
Adam let's have babies
Eve let's have off-springs
poem by Sherif Monem
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For I Too Must Leave Just Like Those Birds
the tree in the garden
has died
what we see now are
nothing but twigs without leaves
below are the heaps
of dead leaves
rotting
we have become like them
hopeless for sometime
dry and cracking
light as the wind
drifting like
the cloud
empty, hollowed by the
mourning of our arid
days
dragging nights
lifeless on a very cold wood
for a bed
one morning some yellow sparrows
with thin long black beaks
hover upon those twigs
and the dead tree even for
the moment has assumed
life
upon a borrowed hope only
for that brief moment
until then when all the sparrows
fly away again
taking with them all the songs
that you hear
you learn the tune from those
thin black and long beaks
and you must compose a song
for yourself
borrowing hope from hope
putting those leaves back
on your
imaginary trees
you must tell me
about the will to live
for i too must leave
and be a part of somewhere else
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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