Olive Tree Poems - Poems about Olive Tree

In this new century of our Lord The gardener planted the young tree Placed in garden of Gethsemane An olive to the knee Around two thousand years have passed A beaten path close by Each word the Olive tucks away Within its heart with sighs When Jesus was just a small boy He would come some to play His tender hand caressed its...

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What about the Woody, and the birds What about the poor olive tree I’ll take care about all our words Your voice is always there for me Photo albums, messages and letters Everything is saved like it should be There’s no distance anymore that matters I know one day I’ll come to thee And about Pippa, please don’t worry She is safe and...

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Aged olive tree Where Jesus knelt Still alive today A thousand years Or more growing Unabandoned Exposed yet free Open witness before A history once more In Gethsemane waving It leaves to the world Triumphant, victorious And never commit errs Till eternity and gospel wish Crown the returned of the Victor....

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In this new century of our Lord The gardener planted the young tree Placed in garden of Gethsemane An olive to the knee Around two thousand years have passed A beaten path close by Each word the Olive tucks away Within its heart with sighs When Jesus was just a small boy He would come some to play His tender hand caressed its...

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They cut down the olive trees and shoot the farmers, unarmed, in the belly, in plain view of IDF soldiers, relishing the moment. How sweet it is to die under the shade of their olive trees, that bind them to their tortured history. And the wind that blows the branches dancing oblivious to their terror, beating their conspiracy. ...

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Under an olive tree, covered from the sun we used to sit down. In the shade of an olive tree we laughed and had fun, out from the busy life in town. In the middle of nowhere we built castles in the sky, we drew stairs to go there knowing it was too high. Under that olive tree we don't sit anymore, we don't dream we can...

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Vouves Olive Tree. (The olive tree of Vouves estimated to be over 3000 years old. Still producing delicious olives on the isle of Crete in Greece. The exact age of the tree can not be determined because the heartwood has already rotted away). the Vouves olive tree it is producing olives her age three thousands...

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The shedding of blood I detest with all my being ...

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The greatest of all the trees if pressed would be the olive tree. Surely, created by mother nature. At a place where the Aegean Sea, stretches out to meet the land of Crete. Nature has bestowed upon her a majestic tree with a warm climate with rich fertile lands. And crowned her with the sun. And bathed her with the sea, Nurturing...

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I’m Syrian, from the Middle East, Where olives make so big a feast. And olive oil goes with every meal, And black dried olives conceal, A great taste a few can feel! Olive trees we know are very old, Older than all that has been told. How calm the eyes, how so olive-green Just like olive trees, so evergreen! Seven years...

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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...

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The olive tree withstands, History tells her story, Age portrays it, Thousands years of growth, No matter what comes, She stands the test of time, Wars, disasters, blood, Tears and peace, Past present and future, Nothing can uproot, Or take away her love, Brilliantly shining, Her message to the world, Producing good vibes, Small oval fruit, With a bitter flesh, Food for thought, And the taste of forgiveness, Anointing with her oil, Offering...

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In this new century of our Lord The gardener planted the young tree Placed in garden of Gethsemane An olive to the knee Around two thousand years have passed A beaten path close by Each word the Olive tucks away Within its heart with sighs When Jesus was just a small boy He would come some to play His tender hand caressed its...

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There wasn’t any way I could have boiled and drunk yesterday’s cup of espresso or moved the olive tree past the ridge or make the sky forever purple, or perch with the sparrows and blue jays on an oak tree branch. There wasn’t any way I could have made the Pontiac...

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From the Mediterranean Sea to California Extraordinary green trees grown since ancient times Oils and fruit, branches of peace...

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