trees

FDR's Trees

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FDR'S TREES


FDR created the CCC
which planted
hundreds of millions of trees
Now the USG
bombs and burns
hundreds of billions of trees


-saiom shriver-

 

(Richard St Barbe, the Australian,
influenced President Roosevelt in this. Now the US,
Australia and everywhere
needs many times more trees)

 

http://sacramentovalleyphotos.com/gallery/images/2010_0307_117.jpg

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A Breeze of Memory

A graveyard of dead trees

Fallen leaves of vast red and orange seas

Squirrels scurry before winter strikes

As children play while others pass on bikes

 

harmony of the trees an the wind come together and sing

As a bird chirps then stops to clean it's wing

Children shrieking and screaming as they play

Angry armies of cars roar past, then fly away

 

Memories start of when I was a kid

Only broken away by time an what it did

Sitting still only in question

Of who I am and to what is my impression

 

I laughed . . . I played here

I was happy unknown of fear

But then reality again breaks memory's connection

Only to be lost again, still unknown of my reflection

 
Like
 

Author's Notes/Comments: 

annnd, here you have yet another class assignment that I did way back.

 

Candlelit Green

Deep beneath the oily earth gates,

Far away from the icy laps of cold breeze,

Miles apart from the whispering pecks of moving lips,

A grotto fit only for a fish exists in the water.

An ancient citadel of a place, hidden in cool green,

With mossy brick pillars and statues dormant and still,

In small shallows of breathable space, 

Weeds slime and water trickles like pretty music, 

Fresh and clear exists the secret world,

Undiscovered by all but us,

A palace of purity, a castle of crystallized clarity,

We light a candle in the rippling pool,

Hold it up to the dappling rays of seeping sun, 

And pray for more grottoes and glens, 

In which to imagine our perfect world.

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Mother Earth Bountiful

Folder: 
cosmos

Mother earth bountiful

time of harvest full

trees full of nuts

a time of luck

 

hedgrows full of fruit

but u have to watch pollute

none from the roadside

full; lead and cyanide

 

careful in public spaces 2

cos they also pollute

spraying weedkiller for

that perfect lawn

 

autumn coming soon

then trees fruitless too

wildlife out of luck

no fruit for tuck

 

amazing setting these

hedgerows and trees

Mother earth's amazing

soon fall colours blazing

 

then winter sets in

then this cycle over again

the best thing is free

Mother earth Beauty

Bounty too

Gaia, Love you

 

 

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Claudia's Tree

A summer storm blew down an oak in Claudia’s yard yesterday

It’s odd but the mere thought of that has caused me some dismay.

 

Joyce Kilmer understood the tree. He wrote about it in a verse.

And If I may, my own two cents I’d like now to disperse.

 

I loved to climb trees when I was young and the trees didn’t care at all.

In fact, somewhere in my heart I knew the trees wouldn’t let me fall.

 

High through the skeleton I’d climb until I swayed upon the breeze

I was a pirate in the crows nest in a ship upon the seas.

 

When I played hide and seek or war my stately tree didn’t mind

If I used him as a decoy or a place to hide behind.

 

Even in my love life trees played an important part

They allowed me to carve in my initials...and those of my sweetheart. 

 

When the climbing stopped and the games abated with the passing of the seasons

I continued to enjoy the trees albeit for different reasons

 

Trees weather almost any storm and still stand strong and tall

And is there anything more beautiful than a tree dressed up for Fall?

 

They go to sleep in winter when the wind through them does sing

But they comeback with a passion to bloom again in Spring?

 

They furnish us with lumber to construct our simple nests

And provide us with a shady spot to stop and take a rest. 

 

In many ways wouldn’t it’d be grand if everyone could be

More welcoming, and giving...just like our friend the tree.

 

Perhaps it is the fact they give without making any demands

That makes me sad for Claudia now that her oak no longer stands.

 

Poems are made by fools, he said, but only God can make a tree.

And after reading this I’m sure with Mr. Kilmer you’d agree...

 

 

 

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Spiral to the moon

the eyes are so beautiful... 

people abuse their lips too often.. 

ugly words.. distraught faces.

passing through dark voids.. 

black spaces.. 

footprints in cement..

writing in sand.. 

 

mistakes made, but by the time I realize..

it always seems just too late.

maybe we don't deserve a second chance..

sometimes I feel like that's all I need.

guess i'll have to deal.

 

in my mind, i've kneeled to you & cried.

in this heart, my yearning towards you will not subside so easily.

my soul is screaming..

there's a spirit looking down..

such disappointment,

destroying me.

 

false reality you try & pull her into..

worn limbs, shattered smiles, heavy eyes.

the pain is swelling..

so fake, you keep on, like a robot, with no cause...

fuck these man-made laws.

I don't need your restriction to enjoy myself.

these rules crash down, fallen stones on the ground..

 

I will blow away with the leaves, for I am not stablized as the trees.

some night, near or distant, I will fly up & greet the moon..

when I get there, i'll ask, "is it still too soon...?"

Prologue

I'm praying this rain from the sky fades away

your cheeks are tear stained as the night turns to grey

wishing on stars that light up the sky

you hide your feelings away and wonder why

no one understands how you feel

are these thoughts make believe or are they real

beneath the water is where you lie

dreaming of tomorrow with bloodshot eyes 

the wind dances through trees once standing so tall

the wind dances through trees as you begin to fall

into the silence where no one hears you scream

into the water where no one sees you dream. 

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Camouflage

Folder: 
Just For Fun

Out in the open

But nobody sees

Invisible in the forest

Among the trees

Invisibly watching

And yet unseen

People walk by

And never even know

That they passed by

Another bloke

Watching, waiting

Anticipating the prey

And when it comes

It won’t notice me

All because

Of camoflauge

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Lotess Minor

Lotess Minor sat and wept
amongst the burning trees that kept
his leafy bits from touching Earth
and his winding roots from finding dirt.

Now upon the stones he's set
and fretting is as much he'd get
from all the noxious smoke and ash
expelled to air from cache stash.

Ruckus was the tune of morn'
and Lotess found his rudders torn
by mean old bugs and chiggers found
'low the grass and 'neath the ground.

His leafy mitts were pinhole chewed
as winds would whip the blaze renewed
and glowing fronds would sail on air
while Lotess couldn't move from there.

His thirst had waited none too long
and upon the touch of root to wrong
he settled in against his will
and panicked as he drank his fill.

Now the terms of need would take
as Lotess sat there trapped and drank.
The pillared heat was closing soon
while Lotess gorged from nigh to noon...

Author's Notes/Comments: 

To be continued.

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