I Think That I Shall Never See
A Poem Lovely As The Banyan Tree....

It stands tall and sturdy
Telling us of unwavering strength
Evidenced by its toughened body.
It speaks with its huge trunk
As it holds itself firmly on the ground.

Its new-grown twigs
Otherwise known as sprigs
And branches, crowded with leaves,
Are shades and shields, replete with stories to weave,
The rings etched inside its trunks are proofs to show
Their age, their truths and tales from long ago.

Roots are both big and small... resembling us, our lives,
They are crisscrossed, entwined...they wrap the tree alive.
They spread deeper down and sideways, like an anchor
Giving extra hold that could last a hundred years or more.

One could dance and create verses on a windy summer day,
The same pace, as its branches bow, wave and sway.
It is a spacious tree house,
There is love, there is freedom, way above our brows,
Where sleepy, weary souls, are promised restful hours,
Like only a steady hammock could offer.
There is always shelter and warmth on cold days
Shade from the heat, when sun is ablaze.

It is too wide, our arms are too small a circle
To hold the thoughts, the countless words, like a cradle
To describe images of what's inside, above and underneath,
As we tell the story of the Banyan tree.

Underneath this tree are two lovers,
Fleeing... feeling light, like two soft feathers,
Flying, as if they could reach the heavens
But they always return to this tree, their haven,
Where their worries they disown.
Somewhere else lay, the problems they bemoan.
Here, they find the privacy they've always sought
In the outside world, it is a dream, or just a thought.
This is where their long poems start to unfold...
Their lives are rich with stories to be written, to be told.
.
For these two lovers
And other creatures,
Two feet or four, it doesn't really matter,
Those that fly, crawl or slither,
Through the night, there are those that wander,
Amongst the branches and crowding leaves they stick together
Before the spreading dark, they come, even those with tethers.
Sometimes they get wet when the rain seems forever,
And yet, they squeeze themselves in, they all gather,
Here, where they find peace...through all kinds of weather...

It is their refuge, their home,
It is like an over-sized dome,
A giant  U M B R E L L A
They fondly call,
THE  BANYAN  TREE...

I can never be swayed:

I Think That I Shall Never See
A Poem Lovely As The Banyan Tree.....



Sally

Copyright 2014
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan

Neanderthal grunts,scratches and stands
Shades his eyes in salutary pose.
New daylight on the horizon.The fisherman sits on sand mending nets to cast into rippling sun kissed tide.
The man in valley gathers This flock in shade of green shade sunkist hills where rolling blankets sweet grass abounds.

Ancient Orient glimmers like  polished stone.Stands watch across vast open plains momentum grows while the blazing orb labours to climb to do it's work.

Battle lines drawn as thousands stand fixed in gleaming light. Swords of bronze and chariots poised to beckon perdition. The rising sun as witness.

High above the stricken crowd stands the priest in wondrous plumage a crimson river runs down the stone. He sands alone a dagger in his right hand the still beating heart in left.
The Sun god requires.

The ground spins silently below us. The sky rolls by in concert.
The golden god he whispers to all, arises swiftly and then he falls to sleep.

Dictates our every breath..morsel that man eats.
Bow.
Worshipping none.