The Tree of knowledge (purportedly) of good and evil.
He had exacted from mankind the reasonable pledge:
Not to ever partake of it and to act in all things civil -
the Tree of knowledge.
In our own spiraling downfall, from the past we dredge
a wealth of experience to fashion our reasons on the anvil.
When confronted with the facets of truth, we tend to hedge.
The division between man and woman in superiority, is drivel.
We are reliant, like the roots and the blades of the sedge.
Good and evil in each of us, are around which all things swivel:
the Tree of Knowledge.
Poetry form: Roundel
Example of Paradise Lost... See my contest by this name posted on PS.
Please see the About section for details regarding this poetry form.
Copyright © Suzette Richards | Year Posted 2013
Thank you, dear God, for this good life,
for the most amazing day, guide our hearts, minds and souls,
for the leaping greenly spirits of trees and a blue true dream of the sky,
for always coming to our aid in difficult times and keep us and our families safe,
and for everything which is natural and which is infinite,
for your mercy, your blessings and by removing worries from our hearts,
and beautiful grace during this frightful and sinful race.
Thank you for giving us hope, and an everlasting faith to believe in You,
for fond memories and good times, Your love is truly amazing oh Lord,
for the day and for the hour, and the minute,
for unrealized blessings and opening up a new paths for us,
for the blessing of Your favor upon our lives,
for blessings us abundantly, unexpectedly and delightfully,
for surrounding us with Your favor as a protection and with Your glory as an adornment.
Thank You for the way You influence our hearts, draw our spirits, and delight our souls,
for your love and thank you God for your son Jesus Christ,
for giving us health and strength each day,
for a roof, food, water, air, flora, fauna and families,
for being there always when we need you. We love You God,
for giving us a lives and never leave us alone and for being with us everywhere we go,
for this beautiful life you have given us.
Thank you our Lord God and Savior for helping us to solve our financial problems,
for your amazing grace, for your favour upon our lives, for your mercy,
for your grace and for revealing your love us,
for securing us in this worldly life, all the glory goes up to You and the blessings fall down on u,
for giving signs that you are with us at all times and that your plans are better than ours always,
for proving us with our daily needs and for the abundance that is beyond our daily needs,
for being the head of our lives and for your protection
THANK YOU LORD JESUS……………….
Copyright © Yuhi Musinga | Year Posted 2015
Are we awake or are we still sleeping?
Blind to the hurt, and deaf to the weeping.
Ashamed of religion and supportive of the new,
Aware of the lies and hidden from what’s true.
Worship the evil and turn away the pure,
Developing disease with an unknown cure.
Starving the poor and overfeeding the wealthy.
Killing the sick and drugging the healthy.
Going to war for some kind of power,
Building tall structures over all types of flower.
Cutting the trees and polluting the air,
All out of greed, with no sort of care.
Turning us against our own,
And help from up above.
Making us beings of hate,
Instead of ones of love.
Demonizing the mystic,
Criticizing the wise.
Making our own family members,
Into people that we despise.
Awaken to the torment,
Be aware of all the pain.
Those who are misleading,
And claiming that we are insane.
Copyright © Alyssa Waters | Year Posted 2013
Initials In a Tree
If I stopped writing poems. where would I be
Would not be able to enjoy their company
Or read over and over and then once more;
Now all of my poems people will ignore.
God in His finest hour gave me the ability
To express my love for Him and humility
High on mountain to or beside restless sea
Writing while sitting beneath a tall oak tree.
Each of my poems will take care of me
Bring me relief by setting my soul free
My soul for attention now does starve
Their initials on a tree did start to carve.
HG, HS and GG
James Thomas Horn, Retired Soldier
Copyright © James Horn | Year Posted 2015
LIKE FALLEN LEAVES…
Here in the winter of my long lived life,
the leaves of my head now fall to the ground.
Destined like leaves of trees gone dead,
the winter winds will soon blow my dust around;
and like fallen leaves, I’ll be done with this world’s strife.
Oh but when the scythe of time snips my thread,
would if I could be like leaves of trees---
who in due season, go happily to their death:
leaving their wooded---naked bones with nothing left
but the bark of reason guarding their earthy homes---
through whose lonely arms, the chilly breeze freely roams.
Yet, for these trees, another season comes like the mornings’ dew;
And they shall rise up from winter’s purgatory and begin life anew.
And though the sojourn here has had its moments of despair,
the flames of love, faith and hope have always been there.
So when I’m gone, weep only tears of joy for me;
for I know why the empty cross was made of the wood of a tree.
Copyright © millard lowe | Year Posted 2015
God, the Master Artist
created the earth
filled with beauties so fair.
He shaped the hills and mountains,
scooped out the valleys,
and placed exquisite lilies to grow there.
With His mighty hand
He stretched out the plains.
His fingers formed rivers and lakes.
He hollowed out the sea, filled it with fishes,
added trees, grass, flowers, blue sky, and clouds.
What a magnificent canvas He creates!
Copyright © Betty Butler | Year Posted 2016
Feather soft, cloud light, baby innocent
Gentle white never touching down
Alive, winding through leaf and tender branch
Together with the wind, happy in another land
Serenely floating as from heavens origin
Osmium, solid smoke, all heavier things on earth
Rocks, boulder dark, over weight, can only watch
With eternal peace, Mary holds the remnant of the bird
In her sacred hands
Imagine her, the abundant care for us she has
Crushing serpents beneath her feet
We know tranquility
Relieved of the burden from above
Eternally, Mary holds it all together
Like a leaf and feather as easily as she can
Copyright © Earl Schumacker | Year Posted 2015
Upon this Tree
Written by Adam M.
Look upon this tree,
a Man hung for us to
The blood which
stains this tree,
is the reason we are
The scars and lashes
upon His back,
all for us, He did
A precious life He
gave to us,
without a fuss.
Out of love His life
this lost lamb, His
blood He save.
By His blood our
sins He lave,
the price His life
in which He gave.
Death has claimed
Him, but claimed Him
upon that tree our
sins He bore.
Conquering Hell a
victory is He, God's
Copyright © Adam M. Snow | Year Posted 2014
We Trim the “Christian” Tree. Part 1
Christmas time brings memories, racing in my head.
However: as I’m growin’ old, it comes with greater dread.
For shortly after Halloween, Before Thanksgiving Day.
Stores will show us “X-mas” wares, to make this season pay.
Jolly Santa and his sleigh. Bags of toys and nine reindeer.
Snowmen and candy canes, Mistletoe the young men cheer.
Homemade fudge & ginger cookies. Tasty pies & frosted cakes.
There’s one thing sets a part. The Tree that front stage takes.
It’s filled with shining lights, sparkling tinsel, thin glass balls.
Tiny elves, and Santa’s sleigh. Tied on safely, against a fall.
Much of this distracts for me, all this “stuff” now on my tree.
I’d rather as my grandkids came, Hints of Christ for all to see.
As the day now fast approaches and my plastic tree comes out
That has for Oh so many years, made “real tree” folk, often pout.
I’ll put away our tiny Rudolph, with his nose of shining red.
Try to focus at this season, on our precious Christ instead.
The Babes mom, Mary
The story here won’t be complete, without mention at whose feet.
This young babe will follow in. Without sin His life completes.
That eve, the young babe’s mom, heard songs His angels sang,
Who years from now, a loving Son, dying on a cross, will hang.
Rough sawn planks
Small rough sawn planks made up the cold hard manger.
While rough sawn beams, would bring our Christ, real danger.
A Gray Donkey
A gray donkey bore His mom, to that stable, dark and cold.
To the place where He is born, a humble place, the stories told.
Then on thru Jerusalem’s gate. Our King, another donkey rides.
Carried to this fateful stage. A trip from which, He did not hide.
Angel’s were a part of this, they sang, as Shepherds kept.
Peace on Earth, Good will toward men, as the tiny baby slept.
Near the end, the Son of God, Could ten thousand angels call.
But for our God, it was now time, For His ‘only’ Son to fall.
Near that stable, a perfect lamb, borne on shepherds back,
Was brought along by them, to keep it safe from nights attack.
Years hence, another place, Another Lamb would pay the fee.
On Calvary’s Cross would die, to save all men. To set them free.
We’re near done adorning
This reminder of a Season.
They may not notice “X-mas” spelling
Christmas spelled without the Reason.
We’ll pause now to catch our breathe
But times a wasting to finish here.
To tell the story of who and why,
This precious story is so dear.
to be cont:
Copyright © Old buck | Year Posted 2015
We conclude" The Trimming of the Christian Tree
Times a wasting
Thanksgiving’s growing near.
We’ll soon drag out the plastic tree.
The family will trim it here.
Strips of Cloth
Clean swaddling cloths. And what of these?
To wrap the babe, from nights cool breeze.
To shield His gentle skin, so tender, young, and soft,
From all the scratchy harshness, of a lowly cattle trough.
But at His grave, revealed at mornings light.
Where He had laid, and folded there just right.
Those burial cloths, that offered fragrance flood.
As now those cloths, are stained with blood.
Beneath our tree, gift packages, brightly wrapped, but later torn.
Tell the tale of “Why He’s Born”. A King with “Crown of Thorns”.
On this eve, 3 gifts were given, for these Magi had felt driven.
To find this tiny babe, to save mankind, had now been given.
It is said down through the years, Gold is reserved just for a King.
Frankincense did symbolize, a Holiness this King would bring.
The final gift of these, Will our hearts through ages bring.
It’s been said this precious Myrrh, Represents His suffering.
For later on, another gift, this tiny babe would offer.
A gift so freely given, what more can Christ then proffer?
His blood spilled, a life would end, Beaten, bruised, and torn.
This King of Kings & Lord of Lords, for all men’s sins had borne.
A Humble Stable Cave
There was no room, but offered, humble stables cave.
Then as fate, for His grave, another stranger gave.
A fitting place our Savior, could his bloodied head now lay,
If only there, for then a three day stay.
Atop our tree, a star will shine. As one the Wise men followed.
To point the way to this new babe, born to die, it don’t seem fair.
It was in evening’s darkness, the lovely star shone bright.
But on the day of this Kings death, the day was turned to night.
Just as sure as that star shone, Believers know, we’re not alone.
Our Christ lives and waits for us, to share in His eternal home.
As we approach this busy time, some things no longer pleasin’.
Much to do, much to spend. Yer runnin’ for no good reason.
Step back and think it through. Is this Christ’s plan for you?
When He was born in Bethlehem. For this lost world to view?
If you’re trapped, and wearin’ thin, For no rhyme nor reason.
Remember now and years to come,
The Reason for the Season.
This was written by oldbuck to remind his
Grand-kids of just that, The Reason for the Season.
Copyright © Old buck | Year Posted 2015
L’Arbre – Translation of Kevin Gilbert’s « Tree » by T. Wignesan
Je suis l’arbre
la maigre et dure terre qui a faim
le corbeau et l’aigle
le soleil et la lune et la mer
Je suis l’argile sacrée
laquelle constitue la base
l‘herbe les vignes l’homme
Je suis tout ce qui est crée
Je suis vous et
vous n’êtes que rien
mais par le biais de l’arbre
et rien ne peut m’atteindre
que par le portail de cette seule chose
pour être libre
et vous êtres toujours rien
car toute la création
- terre et Dieu et homme –
sauf qu’ils s’intègrent
et devient partie d’une totalité de quelque chose
ensemble s’intégrant dans une même conscience
et chaque partie sacrée soit consciente
vivante dans un même esprit d’affinité
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2016
Copyright © T Wignesan | Year Posted 2016
My appearance has been praised and lamented,
Admired and sneered.
I grow as old as the oak,
And go back to whence I came.
No man knows my story or my sorrow.
I am the olive tree.
I have been used and harvested,
Nurtured and burned.
The Greeks have hated and revered me,
Suffered beneath me and sang my rapture.
No two men have ever seen me the same.
I am the olive tree.
I was in the Garden of Gethsamne,
And heard the prayers of Jesus.
I saw the traitor Judas,
And felt the weakness of man.
But the Lord still loved. Can I,
Who am a creation of the Lord, do less?
I am the olive tree.
I can only be what I am,
Though I grow and change daily.
Gnarled and knotted,
I am as old as the coming of man.
I have become the symbol of peace,
And the offering of justice.
I am the olive tree.
Copyright © Hawk Skrine | Year Posted 2017