Here is part two, thanks for finishing it
Still in his hand his sword a shining
Struck quickly through the tendrils twining
To free his foot with speed a blinding
He fell upon the ground and leapt
beyond the branches' claw
Grabbed from his waist the pouch that kept
his magic ring to draw
So placed around his finger long
The nether world he breached
With power from a heart that's strong
to Lilith's form he reached
That's when he saw her body glowing
the holy light his eyes to showing
The weakness in the branches blowing
For within the tree he saw the face
a mask alive with dread
And swung his sword to strike that place
and sever off its head
Its eerie scream cut through the night
a most unholy sound
And in its haste to join the fight
dropped Lilith to the ground
So through the night the battle staging
As in a dance his war was waging
'gainst evil now his sword was raging
Now evil's strength is in the dark
and weakens with the sun
The trees retreat into the park
soon broke into a run
The stranger leapt into its path
to make it stand and fight
The tree screamed out its mighty wrath
to see the morning light
By light of dawn its spell was breaking
Into the earth its roots were taking
A mortal tree the stranger making
Now death came to the tree that morn'
a triumph over fear
But children heed this tale to warn
that evil's always near
For Lilith and the stranger won
because their hearts were true
Would they have seen the morning sun
if either had been you
So go to bed your faith a keeping
and know that evil out there creeping
won't come to you while you are sleeping
Copyright © Anthony Cassano
There was a plantation of fir trees
for some unknown reason, most of them
were three to four years old but one,
it was only in its first year of growth.
When Christmas drew near, the loggers came
and started to cut down some of the oldest.
The little fir asked "What is going on?"
The other trees said its Christmas time.
They will be taken into people's homes
then they will be decorated and lit up.
Parcels at their feet sharing the joy
of Christmas, a real honour to be chosen.
"I want to be a Christmas tree," said the fir.
You are much too young and far too little,
they take most trees when they are four,
you will have to wait and do some growing.
"I want it to be spring, it said not winter
then I will be able to grow big like you".
Soon the loggers had finished cutting down,
now there were large gaps in the rows.
The little fir thought lots of sun helps,
at last the spring came and with it growth.
The little fir stretched as high as it could
filling out as it reached upwards for the sun.
In the morning men came and started to plant
soon there were lots of little trees around.
One worker said," strange there is one little one
should we cut it down". "No leave it to grow bigger".
The little fir grew all through the summer
enjoying the hot lazy days while it could,
it saw many changes over the weeks and months
as autumn passed away the land cooled down.
Then came the snows of winter, a blizzard or two
the snow lay heaped around the little fir's roots.
It will soon be time for the loggers to come
then all us four year old's will be Christmas trees.
"I wish I could be a Christmas tree like all of you".
"You will have to grow a lot more before they take you".
The little tree sighed, it so badly wanted to be one,
next day the loggers came and took the older trees.
Once more the rows looked very bare and also bleak,
the little tree hunkered down to wait for spring.
Then one day a little girl and her dad came
they walked down the rows looking at all the trees.
"That one", she shouted, "dad", pointing at the little fir.
"It is rather small, would you not like a bigger one".
"No, no", said the little girl, "that one is perfect.
I can reach to do most of the decorating of it's branches".
Fantastic thought the little tree, I am a Christmas tree
they gently cut it down and carried it to their truck,
when they got home they put some growth power on the base
and planted it in a great big pot that was a shiny red.
The tree looked around the room in awe struck wonder
there were flashing lights around the snowy windows.
Cards strung over the fire mantle, so very colourful,
streamers hung from corner to corner looking so gay.
Then they started to put baubles, tinsel and lights
and a lovely angel to go on the top it felt so good,
at last the little fir would know what Christmas
was like, it watched all the fun as the presents.
Were passed around and eagerly opened with sighs
and shouts of delight, the tree smiled at their joy.
Now finally they sat down and ate their dinner
with many toasts being passed, at last it was over.
Then next day they took the little fir outside
and put it in a cold frame to protect it for the winter.
oh wow! it thought I will be a Christmas tree again next year
and so the little fir tree got it's dearest wish.
contest Children's Christmas or holiday Tale
Copyright © Shadow Hamilton
A solitary man
Makes his way up the mountain
One step at a time
The life he knows further and further behind
He wishes to be alone
Away from the busyness
Work that is never done
The need to be right
He reaches the top
Sits down crosses his legs
He looks out at the landscape
His village a small mass of thatched roofs
Smoke rises from a central fire
The lake so small it can fit into a wooden spoon
The horizon surrounds him
He feels the pebbles beneath him
Blades of grass are myopically large
He watches an ant toil
Are their lives not the same?
Summer to fall winter to spring
He witnesses it all
His beard has lengthened his mind enlarged
Secrets have been revealed
Disconnected yet part of all
Growing into the ground
Others come to the mountain top
Seeking his wisdom
They sit with him for a while
They never stay long
Each take so that they may give
The wise man transformed
Arms outstretched reaching to all the horizons
Now covered with leaves
The seasons continue to change
He sends his leaves down to the village
Beckoning them to the mountain
Not wanting to be alone
"Come sit beneath my branches
caress my bark smell my scent
know my soul."
He no longer is able to speak
All that he knows resides in the rings of his seasons
Still he offers wisdom
Put your ear to his trunk
You can still hear his heart beat
His breath whistles through the leaves
His seeds cover your woolen coat
You are a solitary man
making your way down the mountain
One step at a time
Closer and closer to your village
To the ones you love
As you walk through the village you shake your coat
Seeds fall on the fertile ground
The wise man has come home
Copyright © Richard Lamoureux
Written January 8, 2013
The morning blues in a lily on the pond
Wake on the wrong side of the road
Penniless pockets play the vagabond game
Ride the tiger recently tamed
On a long road to nowhere, horizon's stain
All's my name sitting next to me
Lie down with graceful angels deep in the snow
Or on wet grass recently mowed
I've grown accustomed to the scent of your mane
Spelled chug-chuga-chug is my name
Oh why do flowers never bloom in the snow?
They never have a chance to grow
No, I don't think we're in Kansas anymore
The oaks and pines getting clearer
Much to a land unafraid to spread its wings
Listen to Woody Guthrie sing
Bacon sizzles in the rain and sunshine reigns
We've reached the line of no return
Of the big rock candy mountain we will sing
For the next week my phone won't ring
Copyright © Brandon Carter
Lookin' after pests
Keepin' a CLOSE eye on 'em
"Those wild animals!"
Roamin' around zoo
Searchin' for sneaky monkey
Hidin' in a tree
Zookeeper gets mad
"Where's Marty, the smartypants!?"
"He TOOK my cage keys!"
Copyright © J. W. Earnings
Seems as a country full of saints and carriers of purity
as all crimes are interestingly attributed to outsiders
tagging them the influential teachers of immorality
yet such crime lovers show the capability of posing a threat
through the embarrassment caused on locals due to their industrious nature
Understanding the half-hearted privileges such a partial acceptance offers,
settlers become more creative, hardworking and productive
with limbs running on entrepreneurship, trade and commerce
while citizens comfort themselves
in the exaggerated pride of their home soil
which results in a war without cause or reason
The government ought to be a job creator
but how ironic, internationals are paying dearly for it.
It is claimed that foreigners are the thrombus in the channel of employment.
Yet these hated people
are self employed with shops, businesses and service centers
which are destroyed as a form of remittance of some sin
Every nation has her share of international mixture
yet a lot do not debase them as foreigners or aliens
the one down south of the dark island of all countries should be the least,
considering the continent’s role in its history,
irrespective of what her excuse may be
Look inwards if strangers are preferred in the national work force,
to find some answers- you angry mob
Examine your home, if passers-by enjoy more of the milk it produces.
Why target and shoot at the tree
when the bird is left alone to dine and sing?
Policemen catch fun while a soul converts to black coal,
humans lynched like a left over meal from vultures,
businesses ransacked and turned into forceful philanthropy,
these are evidences of character built on a very low budget.
If those responsible do nothing about social development,
With or without these ‘aliens’, the economic problems will still prevail
Copyright © Funom Makama
THE MONEY TREE IN THE WARLOCK’S GARDEN
Poverty, poverty, Oh poverty
there is a money tree in the Warlock’s Garden.
Before you slept, you wish for a better way.
Your mother is sick and your father is dead.
Do well in school and live for a moment.
Your poorness will disappear because you have been chosen
to remove bad faith and bring luck upon you.
Do not ever say it is not a blessing.
The thought will bring disaster.
Your magnifier is your mind in thought.
Exemplary, your ideas are.
You are now in a scrape.
You will be the condemner of your faith.
Good I am to those who know a truthful way.
The Money Tree is in the Warlock’s Garden.
~Free Verse/Verse Drama 15 lines... No meter is chosen by the Author.~
Copyright © Verlena S. Walker
Today I wandered through a grove.
An ancient and dilapidated place,
decaying as groves are wont.
A wind-snapped branch here,
a worm-eaten stump there.
Until the whispering wind
softly muttered in my ear,
“This is not your first time here.”
But all is different now,
I hearken to my fearless years;
my previous encounter here.
When the stump was an oak.
A wretched, writhing tree
suffocating in a blanket of ivy,
whose scoliosis trunk bowed to greet me.
With a heave of my pack
I trudged on by.
Adventure was afoot.
Just a yard shy of never remembering this place
A twitchy leaf began an unnatural dance.
And there, entranced, beyond the pirouette, an eye.
Eight, or ten…no, twelve feet high!
And a deeper green than nature intended.
Focused with an intensity
mustered only by insanity.
Being young, and naïve,
That curious eye, the oak, the grove,
vanished into the whispering wind.
Now, decaying as groves and boys are wont,
I sit my scoliosis frame upon a worm-eaten stump.
Far too frail today, to heave a pack,
or pirouette for that matter.
Through foggy lenses, clouded by time,
and focused with an intensity
mustered only by insanity,
Copyright © The Grahamburglar
I thought that my roots were strong
That my branches were some type of armor that could protect you
From anything that tried to harm you.
But now I know you were my prisoner
You never loved me for me
But for my leaves you could see
My colors pulled you in
My melody, created from the wind that flowed though my brown hollow body
But still I am nothing
Because you’re no longer with me
I stay strong I stand tall
Winter spring summer fall
You said you were living for a worthy cause
For me you said
But my only wish was
For you to become one with me
And let us become one with the trees
But I guess it wasn’t meant to be
But now I’m dreaming a new dream
You cut though my roots
My melody was heard for the last time
And I die
With your smile on my mind...
Copyright © Shamya Eskridge
This poem is too long for one submission so I have to split it up
THE KILLING TREE
Come gather children listen well
sit closer now to me
And hear the story I'm to tell
about the killing tree
'Twas deepest winter cold and dark
when first this tale was spun
And evil lurked within the park
Now hidden from the sun
Upon its roots, like legs a creeping
Its spiny fingers willows weeping
It hunted for its prey asleeping
Now Lilith was a child forlorn
as she walked out in the gloom
Too many nights her parents scorn
had kept her in her room
Tonight she packed a bag to travel
and sneaked out like a mouse
But she slipped on ice upon the gravel
A mile from her house
So to the scent of blood it hurried
On foul and evil roots it scurried
To feed on souls from life unburied
Alone he walked, his sword beside him
a stranger to these lands
So proud he strode with face so grim
and power in his hands
He came in search of evils badness
and whet hid blade of steel
To test his skills against the madness
that make the senses reel
It crossed the road its limbs a shaking
Its slimy tendrils taut and quaking
Against the thought of Lilith waking
Now evil lurks in many places
throughout this land it sleeps
Awakened by the night it paces
Into our lives it creeps
Young Lilith was a child forsaken
an innocent so fair
Her dream of freedom thus mistaken
had led her to his lair
So towards its feast its limbs a dangling
The ugly beast within the tangling
Mossy roots was set to strangling
Now deep within small Lilith's heart
there beat a song of love
A tempo strong that from the start
was blessed by God above
So there was goodness deep within
this young girls troubled soul
She only dreamt her prince to win
and worried towards that goal
Upon her now with evil dripping
Its ghostly host with pulse a skipping
Set to its task, her clothes a ripping
She woke and to the night she screamed
the stranger heard her cry
Rushed to her side though time it seemed
too quickly passing by
He drew his sword and hacked the root
wrapped 'round young Lilith's waist
Grabbed from above held by his foot
caught blindly in his haste
Now borne upon its branches saving
A feast for its unholy craving
Two souls for evils lust were waving
Back to the park the tree it fled
Still mindful of its goals
Two human hearts would soon be dead
The tree would have their souls
The stranger spoke to Lilith now
a whisper in the night
And with his eyes he made a vow
for Lilith's life to fight
Copyright © Anthony Cassano
Dance like a tree
Is a beautiful day,
Sitting under an African palm tree,
Enjoying the fresh air,
The sun shines so beautiful,
Relaxing with my back on the grass,
Watching nature like a tv,
Is so amazing to feel life from the trees,
As they dance freely to the air,
I feel and hear awesome sounds,
while the trees move to the waves of the air,
The earth is a beautiful planet,
When you understand the beauty of nature,
The air is like a fuel to life,
Cos! you can't breath without it,
Still with greed, men pollute the air,
When I say nature is beautiful,
I mean it beyoud the sence of beauty,
To understand nature,
The moon, sun,
All a family to nature,
When I watch the tree dance,
I tremble to my soul,
This creatures have no political system,
This creatures bear no grudge,
This creatures don't war against each other
They got no boss,
They got no government,
They don't worry,
Either do they struggle,
They grow with the energy of nature,
They held fruits from the source of nature,
Humans cut them down,
We destroy the life in them,
I wish if humans could be same,
I wish we all could become free like the tree,
I wish we could worry less and live more,
I wish we never war,
I wish the greed of men be turn to love,
I wish we could be free like nature permits,
I wish we could bear fruit of peace through nature,
I wish instead of a dance in a disco,
We could dance to the air,
Dancing away your sorrows,
Freely like the trees,
Without worries about tommorow,
Danceing like a tree,
A dance with love,
A dance with a pure heart,
Let your stress go,
Let your worries flee,
Let your heart be happy,
if you need to dance,
to the vibes of nature,
Then your got to,
Dance like a tree.
Copyright © richard nnoli
It’s Cooper’s Creek we’re crossing here, Willis said to Burke
We need to have a base camp and this creek ought to work
I’ll put it in the journal, November 1861
It’s been four months since we started but our venture’s just begun
From Melbourne up to lands-end, they’ve asked us to explore
We’ll camp here till it’s cooler but not a whole lot more
But Willis, he got restless, so Burke said it’s OK
So they, with King and Gary, headed north one day
They reached the Little Bynoe after two months on the trail
But swamp lands blocked their passage and they were feeling frail
So back to Cooper’s Creek they turned though provisions were at nil
Three camels and a horse they shot, their bellies so to fill
They caught and ate a python but it gave them dysentery
And somewhere back to Cooper’s Creek, they stopped to bury Gary
Then once again at Cooper’s Creek, the three men planned to rest
Regroup with all the others then get on with their quest
But the campground was deserted, no one had stayed around
Left a message carved upon a tree and provisions under ground
So Burke and King and Willis rested for a while
Then headed north towards Mount Hopeless – a trip of 150 miles
They trudged north along the creek till their camels got bogged down
They had to shoot them, lose provisions and finally turn around
While the three were gone from camp, a rescue party came
Not finding anyone around, they thought it such a shame
They assumed no one had been there and the men were probably dead
They didn’t leave a thing behind just turned around instead
Back again at Cooper’s Creek, beneath the marked “dig tree”
Burke buried notes and journals in case he ceased to be
The Abos try to help them, native cooking 101
But Burke gets mad at someone and fires off his gun
The native help then vanish, the three are left alone
With nothing to sustain them so very far from home
Malnourished and exhausted, they start hiking up the creek
Then by the Breerily Waterhole, Willis gets too weak
Burk and King continue north a couple days
Then Burke dies the next morning and there his body lays
King returned to Breerily and finds Willis has died too
But he camps with some Yandruwandha that somehow get him through
And therein lies the story of Willis, Burke and King
Set off to find Australia but lost most everything
If you’re ever down in Queensland get out to Cooper’s Creek
It’s a carved stump of the “dig tree” for provisions that you seek
Copyright © mike dailey
I'm walking through the desert
i come upon a dead tree with
snake eye's and the soul of a
dead man . he said to me "run
to where the sun does not rise
and wage war with the dead .
bring your family and friends
into this war , for they are the
weapons of the gods" then the
sands of the desert blew and
i was standing under the moon
and the tree was gone and my
eye's turned to dust and life tasted
of blue mixed with the taste of death
Copyright © john Comstock
On a windswept hill crest by the sea there is a lonely ancient sentient tree that seems so
figuratively familiar to me, I wonder why this can be n’ who my heart longs for when
I’m here n’ why love gives no guarantee…
Though I visit here frequently, today I was summoned, beckoned by the branches of this
solitary tree swaying in the breeze, to this charming yet purgatorial space...
I knelt down upon this strange magical place n' was carried away as my fingers traced an
owl’s feather to my face n’ wondered why I loved n’ despised this fateful place…
My body shivered, internally tingling n’ with grace, some kind of enlightened knowing I could
not erase n' like the sentient tree that cradles you within, I sensed your ethereal embrace…
Silence ends where you begin, I heard the likes of Aeolian sing “Oh my Immortal” n’ your
poetic voice disturbed the chaos in the winds of my mind n’ there within returned the
memory of your handsome androgynous face…
I said… “Come let my hands play upon your skin” n with my thoughts gathering to replay a
scene across time of broken hearts n’ love’s abandoning reflected in the fire of your eyes n’
a touch of a feather upon my face…
I’ll never know your name or how many tears were cried in the oceanic depths of your
pleasure n’ pain, though the salt I can taste in the tempest of this darkening day as the wind
heralds your scent n’ presence unto me…
I’ll never know all who walked hand in hand here before me or where each discarded shell
has been as the seasons flew away, yet I now know why a thousand Halloweens were your
destiny n’ you summoned me to transcend my mortality n’ the meaning of silent words at
play this day…
Our ancient bodies lay together here beyond mortal touch, though in my present existence I
no longer recall our names, they are lost in my many lifetimes yet kept in the Goddess’s
Though no longer you feel my touch or pleasure n’ pain I'll plant a flower as a blessing on
top of our grave, above the waves, where your soul is a slave to this sentient tree cradling
your ashes n’ bones returned to dust…
Copyright © Lilt Of Orpheus
seek first peace with heaven
and you will see galaxies rise and fall
unto her glory
but that’s not what this poem is about
but then again, maybe
Origin becomes bark
as the light imprints the heart
at a steady pace
six days then rest
like spring and summer grain
where some travel the rifts of time tree
growing in the garden of our Lord
pray your presence bares fruit
or at least some yummy nuts and/or vegetables
now go and find some clothes that you’re comfortable in
and we all find ones that fit
some like a noose around their neck
I prefer drytear.net
poetry soup and
and other sites and
time passes and some of the names I forget
but I know the words will grow up and take flight
like some scrappy little kid sitting in the corner
mumbling and whispering and all kinda shy
his hand I pray, never has to pack up
and move in the middle of the night
and run far away
the things we write
the things we do and say
the thoughts we keep
the skeletons we heap
the shady side of the hill
seems just as steep
and some days I'm so tired
I just want to go home and sleep
but in a world of war and turmoil
there is no peace
except the peace being imprinted
on the heart of the age old
and I wonder who will see
the abstract I painted near the top of this piece
Copyright © Mark Beal
Long before a sheath is woven, before the cocoon is made,
Before a caterpillar seals it’s womb, before the eggs are laid,
Before air becomes the breath of life of everything that breathes,
Before a hawk takes to flight, before fish swim in the sea,
Before the cattle graze the range, and the beast roam through the fields,
And the creeping thing also crawls the earth, before the mountains and the hills,
Before the valley becomes a dale, before a tree is grown,
Before a pod becomes a plant, before the garden is sown,
Before the earth takes shape and form, before stars light up the sky,
Before the likeness of God was made, there was no you nor I,
Before the ashes and the dirt, and the mold of man was clay,
Before the dark and morning, there was no night or day,
Before the Heavens were set aside from Eden to the east,
Before God cursed his creation, into the belly of the beast,
Before the tree of knowledge was touched, before the tree of life,
Before Adam was tempted by his mate, before Eve was given to wife,
Before the earth was flooded, before Noah and his Ark,
Before Moses rose his staff on high and the Red Sea, God, did part,
Before the coat of colors was placed on Jacob’s son,
Before the king of Egypt, Joseph was the one,
Before the ten commandments were written in the stone,
Before the voice of God was heard, before Christ stood all alone,
Before the Son of God was born, before Mary became God’s wife,
On the cross, Christ surrendered to man, The Ultimate Sacrifice.
Copyright © Steven Miller
Posted - 04/15/2007 : 20:58:19
Reveal the light
Forbs in my trap
Solicited to just
Lover as friend.
Wake to shine
Till give up
Will be there
To flame in breath
Shine to unify.
As of reply in magnitude
Dream expands in its soul
Forgotten to walk in fire
love passions to climp story tree.
Copyright © reyhan yucebay
I came upon a weeping tree
One branch bent to the ground
The rest had grown far out of reach
Untouched, except by clouds
I gave you shade and comfort
From the sun and pounding rain
And in return, with my branch
You took a soul
The tree of life explained
So no longer will this branch
Be set free to hold the light
Within it's leaves of green and gold
That cradled many lives
And in hope, this lesson teaches
With a single sacrifice
Learning more with changing seasons
Every life grows intertwined
Copyright © Kevin Fix
I sit with leaves falling from the tree
Of lives sun rays shining on me
The way time flies with no time to see
They way they drop so carelessly
Oh life so short with no time to spare
To leave this place with nothing to share
Only one chance to sit under there
Watching them fall without a care
They float to the ground like the falling snow
With all my seeds still left to sow
There is no choice when it is time to go
As quickly as the sun will melt the snow
While under the tree make it last
The leaves fall quick
And the wind blows fast
Copyright © Steve Crabtree
I do not know?
He sits on his throne made of cobble and bone
Pleading the 5th as his mind sets a tone
The sound is haunting as he shouts with pure moan
In the mirror he watches as he splits from his clone
Planting a seed that was plucked from his heart
A tree grows in place as it is now looking part
For He does not know why resemblence is true
As his claws emit light as it is passing through
From this tree lays an evil fruit
Pluck from thy soul he intends to remove
First bite like a kiss as if he must prove
That he is better than the spawn thats improved
Second bite knawed from his razor teeth
Blood pouring out from the center of the seed
As blood touches ground a figure will heed
Look as Satan sees himself without all the need
The clutches of hell now forming a fist
As fire emits from Satans split wrist
The end will be near for the spawn of better twist
For Satan insecurity will end all in bliss
Copyright © Penn Kname
Stone crops flash by me,
blur of speed
Flick of wing,turn of beak,
the hunt is on
for the prey I seek
Spears of rock
are my home
This magnificent mountain
strewn with scree
capped by frost
ringed by tree
Rising high,it stands alone,
keep it company
Planes of rock make me twist and turn,
complex flying I must learn
to circumnavigate this world of stone
Timeless unchanging mountain,
my home in cool,crisp air
call me invitingly to the search
for I am the Hawk of this mountain
A mountain i know well
for it is living breathing stone,
my place ,my home
Scent of pine fills me
as i scan for prey
Blur of speed on rock
My mountain,my home,
this is no solitary life
for I am not alone
Weathered rock,clean air
scent of green
are my companions
not always seen
Spears of stone reach for sky,
turn of wing I fly by
This mountain stands alone ,
my hunting ground,my home
strewn with scree,
capped with frost,
ringed by tree
Copyright © Matthew Brackley
I do not know?
Nocturnal anger claims the night,
Raging blows rained with might,
Vindictive tongues no truth in sight...
Feasted on carrion
As lies grow wings
Matured not in spring,
To be clothed in white, And hate it sings...
Rebuked with blindness
On a day of sorrow,
When doors closed
Deprived of tomorrow,
To trudge in emptiness
in a world so shallow...
Bigotry is a venomous tree,
Its fruit brings so much misery,
In a world supposed to be free...
Such is bigotry...
Copyright © Corey Delgado