Best Baum Poems
Manchmal träume ich davon,
ein Stein zu sein,
der einfach nur so
am Wegrand liegt,
ohne eigenes Leben
und ohne Vergangenheit,
Gegenwart
oder Zukunft
Manchmal träume ich davon,
ein Baum zu sein,
der fest im Boden
seine Wurzeln schlägt,
der mit dem Blattwerk
Schutz gewährt,
der lebt
Manchmal träume ich davon,
ein Vogel zu sein,
der einsam am Himmel
seine Kreise zieht,
weitab von der Schwere der Erde
-------------------------------------------
Sometimes I dream of it,
to be a stone,
just in a way
of lying at the wayside,
without own life
and without past,
Present
or future
Sometimes I dream of it,
to be a tree,
which firmly anchored in the ground
its roots,
and with its leaves
grants us protection
and is alive
Sometimes I dream of it,
to be a bird,
which pulls its circles
lonely in the sky
his pulls,
and far away from
earth's gravity
--------------------------------------------
A veces sueño de ser una piedra,
que solo está puesto
al borde del camino,
sin vida propia
y sin pasado,
presente o futuro
A veces sueño de ser un árbol
que echa raíces firme en el suelo,
que da nos protección
con su follaje
que vive
A veces sueño de ser un pájaro
que da su solitario círculo
en el cielo,
tan lejos de la gravedad de tierra
Where, oh where, is God?
When will the man-child stop asking why,
stop searching for the other, the greater, the bigger
the more glorious presence?
This constant need to see other than oneself as the source.
Even with a brain (and we know Frank Baum has told us
only STRAW men don’t have brains) we refuse to see,
refuse like a baby forced to eat mashed peas.
We make our children are we their God’s? Hell no!
We name this Creator (for man is nothing-if not a naming animal).
(The father says Da; the baby says DA! Da says cat, baby says CAT!)
Life cannot exist for man without a naming, a judgment, a categorizing.
We cannot GROK it (as Heinlein's Christ character, Valentine Michael Smith
illustrates for us in Stranger in a Strange Land).
For something, someone, has to have made us, yes? no?
Oh yes, they had to consciously decide to make
something as marvelously special as us, didn’t they/it?
* Please refer back to verse 2 line 5.
Where, oh where, is God? When will the man-child stop,
stop searching for the teat, stop the blame game,
accept the responsibility for fouling His own nest?
Why does God have to look like us?
Does everything we create look like us (the light bulb, the car)?
Does that mean there is NO primogeniture if He/she/it doesn’t look like us?
Wait, wait, all of Creation manifests differently, eco systems need
diversity to maintain homeostasis!
Yet we bawl like babies. WHY are You killing me!
Why must I die? What mutant child have you given me
this spawn of Satan!
This primogeniture, this God, this be all, end all, know all, BEING,
this omnipotent source either is outside of us? or inside of us?
Or are we inside of it? And, if it knows us not—
If like the amoeba, it simply divides to exist, absorbs to exist,
excretes to exist. Why do we insist on worshiping it?
Does It Know us? Does it know all of its creations?
Is it an active participant in its own creations?
Refer to the book of life, the planet earth,
the solar system, the structure of an atom.
Use the brain you were given by God
for YOU are not a Straw Man.
First Published in 2013 Sweet Dreams and Night Terrors
Birke/Birch/Abedul
Im sanften Abendlicht
Wehen die Blätter der Birke
Goldfähnchen im Wind
In soft evening light
The leaves of the birch flutter
Golden banners in the wind
En suave luz de la tarde
Ondean las hojas del abedul
Banderitas de oro en el viento
------------------------------------
Wildgänse/Wild Geese/Gansos Salvajes
Im verlierendem Licht
Der schrille Ruf der Wildgänse
Vorbote des Winters
In a fading light
The shrill calls of wild geese
An early sign of winter
En una luz apagando
Agudos gritos de gansos salvajes
Precursor del invierno
Kormoran/Cormorant/Cormorán
Über tanzendem Schilf
Im hohen Baum auf der Lauer
Sitzt wartend der Kormoran
Above rocking reeds
A cormorant in his look-out
Lurking from a high tree
Sobre el cañaveral
En un alto árbol está al acecho
Un cormorán está esperando
Ein Eichelhäher
Im Flug, Futter im Schnabel
Zum Versteck im Baum
Sein Gefieder im Abendlicht
Wie kostbare Juwelen
---------------------------------
A beautiful jay
In flight with feed in his beak
To a hiding place
Plumage in evening light
Like precious jewels
---------------------------------
Un arrendajo
En vuelo con alimento
Refugio al árbol
Sus plumas en luz de tarde
Como joyas preciosas
Der Wald atmet auf
Sonnenlicht fällt auf Tannengrün
Im aufsteigenden Nebel
Am Bachrand vor hohem Gras
Sonnt sich im Baum eine Wildkatze
-------------------------------------------
The forest breathes again
Sunlight falls on pines' green
In now rising mist
At the brook's edge near tall grass
A wild cat is basking in a tree
------------------------------------------
El bosque respira
Luz cae sobre abetos verdes
En la subienda niebla
Al arroyo cerca de hierba alta
Gato montés toma un baño de sol
Aus dem Nest im Baum
Hungriger Ruf der Jungvögel
Versteckt im Geäst
Ruf aus der Einsamkeit vom Wald
Der alte Hirsch auf der Lichtung
---------------------------------------
From the nest in the tree
Hungry cries of young birds
Hidden in the branches
A call from a solitude forest
The old deer in the clearing
--------------------------------------
De un nido en el árbol
Llorar de hambre de aves jóvenes
Escondido en el ramaje
Un grito de la soledad del bosque
El vejo ciervo en el claro
Der Affenbrotbaum
ist kaal und drocken
Ich habe Loecher
in den Socken
aber tausend Jahre lang
gehe Ich baarfuss
dahin
und Ich bin
alein
bin ein Affe
in dem Baum
My gardener Baumhaus
Limerick
My gardener Baumhaus Bee
Scared of hornets hugged the tree
The tree was so cool
Horny humorful
Told Baum "I am not free"
My gardener Baumhaus/Limerick/Copyright© Rajat Kanti Chakrabarty
19 November 2014
Heavy clouds overwhelming
Rainshower over barren fields
Saturating a dry soil
A buzzard watching from a tree
A poor mouse will be doomed
-----------------------------------------
Schwere Wolken überwiegen
Ein Regenguss auf dürre Felder
Durchtränkt die trockene Erde
Ein Bussard späht von einem Baum
Eine arme Maus ist verloren
------------------------------------------
Pesadas nubes predominan
Un aguacero en los campos resecos
Impregnando el suelo seco
Un zopilote observa de un árbol
Un pobre ratón está perdido
There's been a murmur
of a murder in the scrub
the tree is bare
und der Baum ist kaal
the leaves, all the leaves,
everyone of them
has had their throat cut
revenge will come
smoking in the wind
there is no way out
from under the
corroborated tree.
...Baum’s men were caught in a hot cross-fire,
many quickly were sent to the grave,
their Indian allies wisely pulled out,
seeing no victory to be had that day.
The militia just kept pushing closer,
and destroyed the Hessian powder cart,
they charged their positions, muskets as clubs,
the mercenaries began to loose heart.
Then Colonel Baum, in his desperation,
ordered his men out on a sabre charge,
they bulled straight ahead at the militia,
but were cut down before they got that far.
Baum himself was wounded mortally,
the attack being his final stand,
and all the remaining British forces
dropped their guns, quickly threw up their hands.
The Americans had taken the hill,
and went about looting the Hessians’ supplies,
they were busy securing their prisoners
when a new shock came before their eyes.
Six-hundred-fifty more Hessian soldiers,
with Heinrich von Breymann in the lead,
fell upon the tired, disordered rebels,
pressing the fight with surprising speed.
Now Stark and his men were driven on back,
struggling hard to restore formation,
but at that moment the Green Mountain Boys
arrived to fight for the young nation.
Three-hundred-fifty threw in with John Stark,
the shock British advance quickly stalled,
they battled Breymann until twilight’s gloom,
the Americans let him have it all.
By nightfall Breymann had lost a quarter
of his force, was outnumbered and mired,
he’d lost all his cannons, and deduced that
the only choice left was to retire.
He retreated west, back to Burgoyne’s force,
no attempt at a pursuit was made,
Burgoyne’s mighty raid had found only blood,
nine hundred casualties he had paid.
Those men would’ve been useful in weeks to come,
when the British went against General Gates,
at Saratoga, Burgoyne faced a rout,
his surrender still recalled to his day.
Stark was hailed a hero for his actions,
for facing down the foe eye-to-eye,
what else could be expected from the great man
who would declare we should ‘Live Free or Die.’
He and the militia had changed the fight,
and covered themselves in great glory,
by striking a blow for liberty’s cause,
so a new nation might begin its story…
Am See tanzt das Schilf
Spähend ein Fischreiher im Baum
Absuchend das Wasser
Nebel hält den See gefangen
Ein Fischer birgt seinen Fang
-------------------------------------
The reeds are dancing
A heron on watch from a tree
Searching the lake's brink
Fog captivates the quiet lake
A fisherman secures his catch
JUST BECOZ
Whether courage, a heart, or a brain
Their absence may cause you pain
Find the witch of the East
Or the wizard of Oz at least
The search for these things is insane
The munchkins may seem so cute
An observation you cannot refute
But when asked the way
All they would say
The yellow brick road is the route
Read the books by Frank L Baum
Despite each being a bit of a tome
You know how it feels
Just start tapping those heels
And say There’s no place like home
Experience is the only thing that brings knowledge,
and the longer you are on earth the more experience
you are to get. --L. Frank Baum The Wizard of Oz
Designed to stain the credibility of soul.
Eager to kick down the road, the sage.
Conclusion, that wrinkles and scents,
Regardless of impact, don’t matter.
Eager to pretend that youthfulness won’t fade.
Progeny was in those creaky bones.
Icy, the feelings of the crowd; God sees
Tottering old fools as roots, not weeds.
roger that
we're above
oz and i can see
a balloon
trying to deploy
but we won't let the
plot thicken
anymore then
the paddle has
stirred
for one
can say
they let
without
trying to
get the
ropes
for of
course not
wanting to
throw things
off coarse
that in fact
there's no
place
like
home