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Saumya Oct 2017
Seed...
...placed , watered in the soil
With the hope, of Turing into
'Tree'

Seed...
...Forming cotyl
... That eventually differentiates
In epicotyl & hypocotyl
To turn into a leafy stem,
And a fibrous root to be...

Stem...
Growing, developing
...Into a bigger one indeed!
Gradually, happily forming leaves!
Bifurcating into two and many branches to be....

Roots...Helping the stem
Stem... Helping roots
growing in water & sunny heat.

Stems...Now branches
Branches...Now leafy branches
Happily exhibiting their grape green leaves!

The leaves, being a proud elements
Of the latter tree to be,
Working, dedicating,
All their energy
To fulfill their needs.


But oh! These leaves,
These generous ones indeed,
Are unaware , so unaware
Busy working days and nights,
Devoid of greed.

They rejoice at  the tree yielding its fruits,
They rejoice when the tree ripens it's fruits,
they rejoice, when these see birds and beasts,
Relishing how yummiliciously sweet it is.

It all passes,
Never worrying them about grosses.
The young leaves come,
And greener it becomes.
And the old grow pale,
Time for the fall.

The tree grows big,
So happy in its veil
Carefree about the leaves,
Who toiled night & day
Growing pale & pale
Pale enough
To even Carbon dioxide's  inhale.

Seeing the tree who no more cares,
Fruits & seeds, busy pampered & care d,
They get one thing,
We all should sing,

Nature gives what
It one day takes,
We came from it
Will one day be it's waste.

What is so ours,
Isnt really ours,
Time rules,
And nature mocks!

Oh humans,
Oh birds,
Oh women,
Oh men,
Listen, listen,
As I won't repeat it again,

Hope, hope as much as you can,
But never expect as you always can!
As Hope takes high,
But Expectations drain.

For nature gives,
For nature takes.
It makes you young,
To work most of what  you can!
It makes you old,
To live your last lost plans.

Enjoy this life,
As much as you can,
Enjoy what comes,
Regregreting not  your  pasts 'I cans'.

Care for you as much as you can,
Know, know that somebodydy else will
But nobody forever can!

I'm now but a growing leaf,
At my deathbeds highest peak,
Teaching you as much I can.

Life your life, as you always would.
Be proud of what you can and could.

I was a leaf,
I am a leaf,
An now a jaded, old pale, trashed one.

I came from soil,
As a part of seed,
The seed that yielded a bigger tree.
The tree is happy,
With its flowers and fruits
The fruits yield now,
Many, many seedy fruits.

But oh, this tree this busy one indeed,
Knows not thay it's but the leaves make it!

Today that it has many,
It misses not me,
But oh, I feel pity,
But heart sobs much in misery,
Remembering, reminiscing
That first parent seed
For it was the seed,
That loved & blessed ,
Blessed enough to be a tall
Tall, yet a 'selfish' tree.
Just a pondering.

Thankyou for reading.lemme know how it was :)
A Wind rolls through the forest—
Branches shake— on a bare tree
A Leaf rustles— restless— quivering—
Holding on a moment longer—

A Wind rolled through the forest—
Now All is still— hushed— like Dawn
The Cold relinquishes— Darkness parts—
And reveals the Leaf is gone.
We wrote Emily Dickinson style poems in class. Voila.
Lunar Aug 2017
I watched her tilt the cup
gently towards her lips
Sipping on her favorite tea—
one made of and for thought.
A late evening of craving kicks in once more.
Letting her eyes settle
on blank pages
of her renowned thick journal.
Yes, I whispered to myself,
Stay this way.
Keep thinking,
keep writing,
keep living.
She continuous in little furies
of the same drink order
and of colorful scribbles,
tearing little pieces of herself
(printed with her personality)
to stick onto the paper.
How much more ink will she bleed,
how much more tea leaves will she drink
to drown out her sorrows,
akin to those inhalers of burning leaves?
Among the words which sustain you,
overdose is the only one which doesn't exist.
You are addicted to tea,
to the world around you,
and to the words around you.
This is you, and this is how you live,
with an end waiting for you,
despite knowing it's only the beginning
whenever you hold your pen.
Your mind, tongue and hands will fade,
but your thoughts and words
will live on forever.
for Clara.
you're to the T for me,
you're my favorite cup of T,
and my favorite T!

(j.m.)
Pagan Paul Aug 2017
.
My beautiful Lady, I see your scars,
deep in your eyes, hidden in stars.
Let me hold you, please come near,
I'll give you warmth, banish your fear.

You've been taken from your mother tree,
tossed in the wind, blown to me.
Let your eyes shine, show me belief,
I'll show you love, my Lady Leaf.

© Pagan Paul (31/07/17)
.
Lord of Green series, poem 12
.
Hasan Aspahani Jul 2017
I am a leaf and you are a voracious caterpillar. I'm gone, when you turn into a butterfly, develop the color of your wings.

I'm late night and you're polite dew. I was not there when on the leaf, morning and the sun brilliant you.
Hasan Aspahani Jul 2017
LIKE rain fingers play a sound in your leaves,
Clinging to the overwhelming silence I recognize.

I once had the courage that turned out to be frightening.
Without you, I'm a coward, pervert already in the first step.

I want to write any sentence, with words
cried "Oh .." at first. And "Ah ..", in the end.

I imagine it's in melodious lyrics, which are sung
singers - who like me - are never good at dancing.

As for the song - after you hear it - meaning:
leaving you, that means I leave
myself,  that's why only on you I'm back.
one leaf left conjoined, on the
last tree in the entire world
that was planted not only in
the barren desert but also in the
midst of an eternal sandstorm
that ravaged and blinded any earthling
organism that was brave enough
to ask for a taste. except one man
was blind enough already, and his shaggy
gray dreadlocks shielded his weak spots
while he trudged on for miles in his
balaclava, listening for the wind
in the closest space to crack and give
a sign. and then there was the tree –
not flowing in the wind but solidifying
into stone as the clock struck
15,000 years and the leaf blew away and drained the secrets
from its roots and locked them
away for the Titans to find. the
man was 2,000 miles away, and he
had just run out of water in the
desert when he realized that the
shift was happening already. so he
laid down and packed the sand on
nicely and waited patiently for
the Titans to take him under and
ask him questions about life up
above.
Paul Jones Jun 2017
The space between ethereal measure,
  the nothingness connecting our divide.
This lack of substance is surreal, obscure
  are old memories of sharing your side.
Ours is the spirit, by which we are bound,
  a realm we share where timelessness persists.
Where shapeless planes carry a formless sound,
  the self becoming selfless, unresisting.
The place you’ve gone does not belong to me
  and in the space between us, seeds are sown.
The tree of life sways softly with the breeze
  while you continue, beyond what I know.
Like wings that carry over to another shore,
  you are my leaf on the wind. I see you soar.
Sonnet - 18 -
Original version: 27/09/15
This version: 23/03/17

I can share this now.

Dedicated to my Father.
I wrote this sonnet for him and read it at his funeral.

It explore's the experience of still feeling deeply connected to something that is no longer. Even after their death, people still affect you and change you. Pieces to a puzzle are still being put in their place as we mirror ourselves and our actions to what they might have done. We learn about ourselves and the world from these reflections.

On an even deeper level, this sonnet explore's the ethereal connections we have to our ancestors and the past. Observing that, what is lost to us will be reborn, through it's decay, feeding new growth. The cycle of life.

          "I am a leaf on the wind.
               Watch how I soar".
                                               - Wash, Firefly
Richard Grahn May 2017
This one tiny leaf
Stands dancing in the branches
Lusting for sunshine
This didn't come easy. Took a couple hours (on and off) of word-wrangling to get to this state. Looking for a human twist to the realm of nature.
Simon Soane Apr 2017
The spot where you fell now has the shadow of new you
beginning to start a reign,
autumn's decrepit form
forgot
in
this rise;
only for spring
are your eyes.
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