Only a Tree

Only a tree
yet the source of all life
Sometimes a tree
sees love and sees strife
Only a tree
is needful of me
Forever my life
is grateful for thee
A source of all life
our beautiful trees
so strong and so supple
their branches and leaves
sway in the breeze
and fall to the ground
with nary a sound
yet splendor profound
Only a tree
forever a sight
in each and every season
to bring me delight
in summer so green
in autumn a colorful sight
in winter sturdy and divine
reaching to heaven
a ladder which to climb
O heavenly tree
bring me a spring
filled with sweet scents
and buds of light green
renew your dear life
my dreams I've foreseen
Only a tree
the boon of wildlife
by javadoug
(Thanks for the inspiration Gudi :)
(I saw the photo of a tree posted in her photostream, and wrote the poem)
www.youtube.com/watch?v=qB76jxBq_gQ

youth and the thinker

One man the thinker, observing everything he perceives
quiet, gentle, perplexed yet never impatient.

What is the thinker contemplating --
perhaps meaningful philosophical questions of life,
or cognitive interpretations of sensory perception,
with transcendental mediations of pure thought.
Is it coy expressions of ardent love
or else simply observations of all that is around
stored for future contemplation..

The youth seem curious, new experiences all around;
white as pure as the driven snow surrounds their
senses like seeing for the first time.
If the thinker could interpret, observe in
the wild eyed innocent manner, without preconceived notions
or hard wired interpretations which leap to fill in missing gaps...

That is the equation, can he do it?

Look up: Sycamore trees in winter

Look up: Sycamore trees in winter
Sycamore tree on Hunter Drive, Murrysville.
How many people get depressed or sad in winter because of the weather and conditions outside? What are you missing. You are missing the beauty that still exists out there, but is harder to grasp. It may be cold, colourless and drab, but there is beauty there, nevertheless, and alwaysthemore. Just look at the Sycamore trees, if you have them near you. All of the rest of the trees I would still characterize as beautiful, even in winter, but the Sycamore trees out shine them all. You just can't deny it. They have lost their giant leaves, which aren't necessarily the nicest of leaves, so in summer if you were a sycamore tree you might feel inferior. But in winter it is now your time to shine. The other trees are sort of a dull drab gray or brown, but the sycamores have a beautiful white bark, especially as you ascend the trunk to the upper places. Just look up. Perhaps if you walk all day just looking at your feet, which if you are walking in the woods might be good advice, so that you don't trip over a root or fallen branch, but you must resist that urge and look up at some of that beauty just above you. Whoever endowed you with two sharp eyes to perceive perhaps left out maybe one more to look skyward. But seriously the times I find myself looking up, especially at nature, are the most joyous. The white bark of the sycamore is a great sight to see in winter, so go see it. I've tried to photograph it, and that looks nice, but without the effect of walking around or even driving by one of these great trees, you don't get the full effect. In Pittsburgh old sycamores line many of the roads, but the younger ones in the parks and woods outshine these and deserve a look. One of these days I'll find a way to ascend one of these great beauties to try to get a close up photo of the white bark, just to see how that would turn out.

I wrote this a few years ago, and now that I have my new camera with the 12x zoom, I no longer feel the need to climb the tree to get a good shot :)

alive and bright

alive and bright, tunneling toward the sun
concentric downy autumn seeds
capture the sun's rays

Writhing

Writhing, squirming slender colour out
acute distortion wrenching arm about
bending flavour eliptic radial shout
contortled sinews showing little doubt

infectious tendrils twisted out of sight
convoluted intermingled strings of night
flexing indirect sperpents into light
meander forth to spew your crooked height

curving damaged figures till the show
abundant texture over frequent flow
unwrapping beauty discourse under tow
unveiling fervent outline soon to grow

patterns fashion figure from their bode
sparking clever structure form and mode
sharply jutting skeleton connecting node
gently blowing grasses now bestowed