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Around the Acacia Tree

Vertical and pinnate, green leaves
And small flowers of yellow grow
Around the Acacia Tree.

Sun light drapes and the ground receives
The curtain's folding golden glow
Around the Acacia Tree.

The incense scent in the air weaves
The knitted root tangles below
Around the Acacia Tree.

Yet, now, from the bark, cloudy smoke
Lifts like a slumbering ghost awoke
Around the Acacia Tree.

poem by Tim Stensloff
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The Old Acacia Tree

Neither daylight nor the darkness
See how silently I wander.
Not on mountain, nor in valley,
Does an old acacia ponder.

The acacia solves all mysteries,
Tells my fortune while I tarry.
I shall ask the tree to tell me
Whom O whom, am I to marry?

Where will he be from, O Acacia,
Is it Poland, Lithuania?
Will he come with a horse and a carriage
Or with staff and sack will he appear?

And what presents will be bring me -
Necklace of pearls and coral flower?
Tell me, will he be fair or dark-haired?
Still unmarried or a widower?

[...] Read more

poem by Hayyim Nahman Bialik
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Forgetting The Moon

i invite you
to sit upon a hill
under the acacia tree
to view the moon

it is full tonight
rising from the shadows of
the mountains

i hold your hand
and your long hair
touches my shoulder

we sit tonight
silently admiring the moon rising
from the shadows of the mountains

i gaze upon your eyes
and we kiss under the cool shade
of the acacia trees

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poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Fantasy Acacia

seven maidens sang a longing song
with blessed joy it rang in pagoda
they shouted too for eternity
that human was free from hell

and as purple acacia stand on the pond
with its nine leaves and spread among butterflies
the saint said: 'Why do you stand there?
When I talk to you, you are crying! '

'And should I not cry, divine one?
I have broke the harmony of love
I wander and scream bitterly!
O come and mercy me! '

'If you have broke the harmony of love
then take a bow and pray sincerely!
Love only Heart for all time!
so will you accept heavenly truth'

[...] Read more

poem by Ahmad Shiddiqi
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My Nora

Beneath the gold acacia buds
My gentle Nora sits and broods,
Far, far away in Boston woods
My gentle Nora!

I see the tear-drop in her e'e,
Her bosom's heaving tenderly;
I know—I know she thinks of me,
My Darling Nora!

And where am I? My love, whilst thou
Sitt'st sad beneath the acacia bough,
Where pearl's on neck, and wreath on brow,
I stand, my Nora!

Mid carcanet and coronet,
Where joy-lamps shine and flowers are set—
Where England's chivalry are met,
Behold me, Nora!

[...] Read more

poem by William Makepeace Thackeray
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Saga of The Weaver Bird & The Acacia Tree

The landscape -ascending azimuth, the azure sky lifts
The encircling curtains, of blue veil of vertigo,
Like a green floral skirt, fine open grass spreads in tribute, below,
In between stands the flat-topped Acacia tree
At an impasse with a giant cumulous cloud,
Bends and takes a bow.

In his benevolent splendour, like Moses on Mount Sinai,
Acquitted for withstanding the Biblical Deluge,
He stood like a stoic monk limbs outstretched,
Inviting in this otherwise arid, scrubby, dryland.
Globular heads on elongated spikes, soft fuzzy of golden appearance,
In the desert heat, he protrudes like one big tear of God’s compassion,
A pleasant land, but if one’s humor is mournful-
Wind swept with lonely dunes deserted ponds& barren moors.
Sullen wind awakes, rescued by the first rays of morning sun
Shrine to nature’s impetuosity, submitting to earthly blasphemy,
Storms, Droughts, floods, forgiven by spring’s consecration,
Vagaries of your various moods & his seasons.

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poem by Seema joglekar
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Friends On Their Reunion

three friends meet
under the shade of an acacia tree
one hot summer
they tell stories
without the required plots
they are heroes there
on their never ending
wars.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Acquaintance Of The Wretched

No one is benefited,
From acquaintance of the wretched,
Just like a vine as if
One trails upon the acacia tree
And gets each bunch of grapes
Wounded.
By Mian Muhammad Translation by Muhammad Shanazar

poem by Muhammad Shanazar
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Aikiha

synthesis with enhancement
jactitation
distinction preservation

if they are shootin' at ya
you know that you are
doin' somethin' right, okay?

shhhh you acacia flowers
pride's before a mine
Scrub's your Street, not Wattle Drive

poem by Douglas Scotney
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The Prime Of Your Life

In the prime of your life you went to the grave,
Because you were robbed off by the remainder of your years!
And the pine trees and the acacia trees beard your witness,
But you were gone too soon like how a potter treads the down clay.

poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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