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Tree Social Poems | Social Poems About Tree

These Tree Social poems are examples of Social poems about Tree. These are the best examples of Tree Social poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

Details | I do not know? |

Solomon Mahlangu: My Blood will Nourish the Tree that will Bear the Fruits of Freedom

(special thanks to a friend who shared this tribute to Solomon Mahlangu)



Solomon Mahlangu: My Blood will Nourish the Tree that will Bear the Fruits of Freedom:



Solomon Mahlangu was trained as an MK soldier with a view to later rejoining the struggle in the country.


He left South Africa after the Soweto Uprising of 1976 when he was 19 years old, and was later chosen to be part of an elite force to return to South Africa to carry out a mission commemorating the June 16th 1976 Soweto student uprising.


After entering South Africa through Swaziland and meeting his fellow comrades in Duduza, on the East Rand (east of Johannesburg), they were accosted by the police in Goch Street in Johannesburg.


In the ensuing gun battle two civilians were killed and two were injured, and Mahlangu and Motloung were captured while acting as decoys so that the other comrade could go and report to the MK leadership.


Motloung was brutally assaulted by the police to a point that he suffered brain damage and was unfit to stand trial, resulting in Mahlangu facing trial alone.


He was charged with two counts of murder and several charges under the Terrorism Act, to which he pleaded not guilty.


Though the judge accepted that Motloung was responsible for the killings, common purpose was argued and Mahlangu was found guilty on two counts of murder and other charges under the Terrorism Act.


On 15 June 1978 Solomon Mahlangu was refused leave to appeal his sentence by the Rand Supreme Court, and on 24 July 1978 he was refused again in the Bloemfontein Appeal Court.


Although various governments, the United Nations, International Organizations, groups and prominent individuals attempted to intercede on his behalf, Mahlangu awaited his execution in Pretoria Central Prison, and was hanged on 6 April 1979.


His hanging provoked international protest and condemnation of South Africa and Apartheid.


In fear of crowd reaction at the funeral the police decided to bury Mahlangu in Atteridgeville in Pretoria.


On 6 April 1993 he was re-interred at the Mamelodi Cemetery, where a plaque states his last words:


‘My blood will nourish the tree that will bear the fruits of freedom.

Tell my people that I love them.

They must continue the fight.’



Mahlangu died for a cause!



Salute!



The Struggle Continues…




(special thanks to a friend who shared this tribute to Solomon Mahlangu)


Details | Rhyme |

Why all this Destructions

Why all this Destructions? – Zamreen Zarook

God created this whole universe for the mankind,
He gave everything lavishly, thinking that we might be kind,
Even though people are able, they seems to be blind,
Whereas people failed to mind.

The sky which was created for the man started to scream and cry,
Since good morals and ethics were decry,
The fire started to do the mimicry,
As the water lands cannot bear, it came to man with a battle cry.

Land couldn't hold and it started to gorge,
Fresh air merged with chemicals and started to urge,
Whatever created for the man have started to over charged,
Stop evil and let the merits be enlarged.


Details | Tanka |

The Virtuous White Rose

--**--The Virtuous White Rose--**--

White rose is holy
Matrimony pureness of
Bond between lovers.
Blessing  to Old Rome deceased’s
Chastity and innocence.

White Rose in myth and
Legend was tainted by blood,
Made blush from kiss, thus
Made it red and made it pink
Against its pride purity.


Details | Rhyme |

Ode to My neighbour The Woodpeckers

By Sashi. Prabhu(zeauoxian) 1/3/2012.

Often, I glimpse from my roof top garden, leftward, From the sedentary swing but I know the descent of woodpeckers have soared. From the vertical column sans a crown of leaves of rotted dead wood, Once, which was in its own right a magnificent coconut tree where it stood. Freshness, splendor, Vitality and flexibility of a live tree all depleted and gone, T’was a pertinent choice for the woodpecker mates to build a home foregone. Abundantly birdies flock, Pigeons, robins, mynahs, hornbills, cranes and parrots, On the evergreen nearby tamarind tree, but the woodpeckers my eyes ferrets. From that eventful day my eyes they set upon, Their wood pecking bills would on the bark sculpt and impinge on. A homely hole to drill, Their head moving rhythmically and looks like a cap with red frill. Twenty five days back they first arrived I lucidly recollect, Ten days, a pair of hatched altricial chicks, mates from adversaries’ have to protect. One morn had me glancing to the oval cavital hole on the bark, And feasted my eyes on feeding chicks being readied, their lives to embark. Blissful and content , I recollect now I sat a bit longer to observe and discern, Glorious hues, auger bill, cap with red frills, of the peckers as they take their unambiguous turns. To zip across like beige, buttery yellow plumaged darts across the lush foliage all green, Within, watchable bounds to fetch, insects, worms and saps as nutriment routine. The chicks I saw they peek out of the shielded barky holes with awe, Strength it seems to me have filled their wings bill and sharpened claw. Now I wonder if I can listen to the joyous feminine “chrr” and the shrill masculine “kwirr”. As the young chick in the hole frolicking, giving it a try to fly, Away in the wide world after saying a good bye onto the sky very high………… Now the mates without emotions, kerfuffle and ado, To each other, their home and their prying neighbour me have bid “adieu”. Often, I glimpse from my roof top garden, leftward, From the sedentary swing but I know the descent of woodpeckers have soared


Details | I do not know? |

The Petty Posh-WahZee - Liberation and Ostentation



The Petty Posh-Wahzee - Liberation & Ostentation


The Not-So Distant Past:

The fallen fighters for freedom, are unable to turn in their graves,
their battered, fragmented bones, mixed with a handful of torn rags,
are all that remain, a mute reminder of their selfless valiant sacrifice.

They endured brutal Apartheid harassment, detentions without trial,
torture in the cells, and mental anguish when loved ones disappeared,
they left their homeland, to continue the struggle against racial bigotry,
while countless others fought the scourge of white-minority rule at home.

Nelson Mandela and many, many others, spent their lives imprisoned,
on islands of stone, and on islands of the cruellest torture, yet they stood,
never bowing, never scraping, they stood, firm for ideals for which they were prepared to die,

and many, many comrades did die, at the hands of the callous oppressor,
and many, many comrades perished in distant lands, torn from their homes,
while the struggle continued, for decades, soaked in blood, in tears, in pain.


The Present:

19 years have passed, since freedom was secured at the highest of prices,
delivering unto us, this present, a gift of emancipation from servitude,

a freedom to walk this land, head held high, no longer second-class citizens,
in the land of our ancestors, whose voices we hear and need to heed today.

I do not care much for fashion, Lewis-Fit-On and Sleeves unSt.-Moron,
yet the ostentation that I witness baffles even my unsophisticated palate,

our ancestors' plaintive whispers are being dismissed, left unheeded, as
we browse the aisles for more and more, always for more and yet more.

Asphyxiated by the excess of the Petty Posh-Wahzee, we find ourselves,
perched precariously on the edge, of a dissolution of all that is humane,

babies go hungry, wives are battered, our elders left in hospitals for hours,
I cringe as I scribble these words, perhaps too sanctimonious and preachy,

yet I know, deep in the marrow of my brittle bones, I know, I know, I know,
this tree of freedom planted by the nameless daughters and sons of Africa,

needs to be shielded, nurtured, protected from our very own baser impulses,
so that the precious tree of freedom, may bear the fruit that may feed us all,

for if not, then we are doomed, to tip over, and into the yawning abyss, we shall fall.








Details | Verse |

Hail and Ice

It Hails
Beautifying Winter
My Nails
Ice in the Center

Oh no
Damn what nonsense
And Yes
Have the License

So Lead
With cars To 
roads of speed
And trees
What snowflake
and Breeze

Oh So cold
Ice in the winter
I'm so bold
Out in the Center

& Outdoors
Tremble like that
Icy Floors
With Classmate

There fall flakes
and I fetch them
Whatever takes
I may catch them

So come on everyone
Freeze your blood
To this wintry one
And Snowflake ton


Details | Tanka |

Three Christmas Desires

Happy Santa Day
Here’s my short list of desires
I wish complete peace
My wish came true this very morn
My tree held exquisite cross

My second wish now
No more greed upon the earth
At the stroke of noon
Golden abyss circled world.
Tree had a smiley face bulb.

As this day ended
My third wish for no hunger
Became abundant
A note found, said "down-to-earth".
My tree now bore so much fruit.


written by
Cecil Hickman


Details | Rhyme |

Secret Of A Mango Tree (Mixed Rhyme)

I use time not on shorelines, watching
The great yellow orb…..never rushing
To fade and rest…..before the laughing
Eyes of lovers, as noon wind touching
Them, beneath the coco palms, kissing

But I, like bird on a mango tree nestle
Clinging, childishly, on its sturdy branch
Before my eyes, I see how crickets whistle
With rhythmic tune, as tares foolishly dance

With the gadfly, that flatters free
As I spend the stolen time
Enjoying the nature’s rhyme
Till the tree bears fruits…..just for me

Its fruits, sweet and golden, the tree itself is
No match against the brutal force of nature
Once…twice, standing helpless, while bearded mantis
Forcefully stabbing-in its sting, that rapture    

The innocent soul, that still bleeds
In silence, the mango tree heeds
The wailing beats of its heart
Hapless, lying on the dead ground
While hungry beast started to pound
Feasted….till whole’s torn apart

Scared; it soars, aimless, over seas of thunder
With no hope, in mind, of gazing the wonder
Of the world, for spirits lies under yonder

Mango tree, a glorious image
Of little robin, now, in rage

No clue, if ever peace will live 
In the heart of those, once, deceived

What goodness will it give watching… 
The sun fades sure darkness it’ll bring?  
  
Certainly, no one knows, but me 

The secret of a mango tree