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sequoia

Quotes about sequoia, page 2

57

Hell is Other people
So now rise up Lazarus and Just Be yourself learn learn
To talk and laugh at Yourself, Lazarus
From the dead of the commons From the rotten flesh of the others among the rest Rise up Rise up And be yourself again
A pine among the redwoods A duck among the geese
Don’t bother now Being yourself is redemption enough

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Rise Up Lazarus

Hell is Other people
So now rise up Lazarus and Just Be yourself learn learn
To talk and laugh at Yourself, lazarus
From the dead of the commons From the rotten flesh of the others among the rest Rise up Rise up And be yourself again
A pine among the redwoods A duck among the geese
Don’t bother now Being yourself is redemption enough

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This Land Is Your Land

Well I rode that ribbon highway
I saw above me the endless sky
I saw below me the golden valley
This land was made for you and me
Ive roamed and rambled and followed my footsteps
Through the sparkling sands of her diamond deserts
And all around me a voice was calling
This land was made for you and me
This land is your land
This land is my land
From california
To the new york island
From the redwood forest
To the gulf stream waters
This land was made for you and me
Well the sun came shining and I was strolling
Through wheat fields waving and dust clouds rolling
And a voice was sounding
As the fog was lifting
Saying this land was made for you and me

[...] Read more

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Sonnet- All Things End On Earth

The greatest men on earth must one day die;
The great Red-wood and Sequoias don’t long thrive;
The powerful-most men crash, however high;
No creature can always remain alive.

The tallest monuments too can’t last long;
All statues kept for men and Gods erode;
But continue ever must Nature’s song;
And every man must carry his own load.

The strongest metals too have wear and tear;
All reinforced walls too crack and crumble down;
And human-beings pollute the earth’s air;
The harvest is by both seed and soil sown.

All worldly things will come to dust one day!
But man can't miss walking in Heaven's way.

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Yours until Infinity

If you could count up all the nebula
Number all the stars
Order all the grains of sand
On beaches near and far
Weigh the droplets in the sea
You'd come full circle back to me cause I'm
Yours until infinity

If you could figure out the constant
That circles every pi
Measure the sequoias
That reach out for the sky
Valentine then you would see
You've come full circle back to me cause I'm
Yours until infinity

If you could count those angels dancing
Their hearts out on a pin
Imagine we're romancing
Instead of pondering

[...] Read more

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The Summit Redwood

Only stand high a long enough time your lightning
will come; that is what blunts the peaks of
redwoods;
But this old tower of life on the hilltop has taken
it more than twice a century, this knows in
every
Cell the salty and the burning taste, the shudder
and the voice.

The fire from heaven; it has
felt the earth's too
Roaring up hill in autumn, thorned oak-leaves tossing
their bright ruin to the bitter laurel-leaves,
and all
Its under-forest has died and died, and lives to be
burnt; the redwood has lived. Though the fire
entered,
It cored the trunk while the sapwood increased. The
trunk is a tower, the bole of the trunk is a
black cavern,

[...] Read more

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All The Little Hoofprints

Farther up the gorge the sea's voice fainted and ceased.
We heard a new noise far away ahead of us, vague and metallic,
it might have been some unpleasant bird's voice
Bedded in a matrix of long silences. At length we came to a little
cabin lost in the redwoods,
An old man sat on a bench before the doorway filing a cross-cut
saw; sometimes he slept,
Sometimes he filed. Two or three horses in the corral by the
streamside lifted their heads
To watch us pass, but the old man did not.

In the afternoon we
returned the same way,
And had the picture in our minds of magnificent regions of space
and mountain not seen before. (This was
The first time that we visited Pigeon Gap, whence you look
down behind the great shouldering pyramid-
Edges of Pico Blanco through eagle-gulfs of air to a forest basin
Where two-hundred-foot redwoods look like the pile on a Turkish
carpet.) With such extensions of the idol-

[...] Read more

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As My Recovery Progresses

A little while ago
I came down to the computer
in the early morning light,
strong as a lumberjack
in a forest of redwoods,

read a few poems,
and in the shadow
of my conscious mind
felt the seeds
of something great
beginning to sprout.

Now, after answering
a little correspondence,
I already feel the need
to go back to bed,
and I'm fumbling
through these papers
on my desk

[...] Read more

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Happiness

My sailing boat, crafted of redwood, is swift,
My flute is carved out of jasper.

With water a stain is removed from the silk,
With wine – the worries and heartache.

And if you’re the owner of swift little boat,
The wine and a beautiful woman…

What else can you ask for? In every respect,
To heavenly gods you are equal.

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McDonalds and Me...[VERY SHORT; Junk Food; Humor]

Eyewear tech with my glasses did toil,
and now Toyota tech is changing car's oil.
While waiting this warm day in Redwood City,
I've eaten a large ice cream cone. Just one. A pity!

McDonalds may get a lot of shit
for helping lots of people be unfit,
and there most likely is some truth in that,
but there are much worse things than salt and fat.

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Chaos and Cosmos (Revisited)

Peace, pearls, pandemonium
Preserved in perturbed darkness
In the dynasty of redwood;
On Isolated island of civilization
Tombs of cradled desires
Like obscene scars;
Rainbow on Titan
Red with yearning dreams;
Rainbow on Earth
rusted in paleness;
Gazing behind the 'Sfumato'
The eyes of deception -
While the smile of enigma
Safe and secure under cover
The smile of life
Has gone away too far! ! !

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Here to Bark You

I'm here to bark you.
With a not too thick protecterate.
Enclosing you to allow you growth.
To allow your branches,
To reach with leaves.

I've done the pines,
With their needles to prick.
I've done the birch,
To have them stand out...
For an easy search.

The oak and maple were not difficult for me.
The redwoods were the ones,
To reach as high as the eye could see!
Towers and the tallest on Earth,
They chose to be!

I'm here to bark you.
With a not too thick protecterate.

[...] Read more

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The Mute Pain of Trees

Cezanne’s rough, jutting trees
slashing the blotted sky,
at the dark bridge at Mainte,
stone arches stoically standing
as scarred trees hang low,
over the still, black Seine;

while in the Grove of Heroes
an ancient redwood

twisted trunk,
tense muscles,
aching, rising,
spiraling past scars,
past clean cuts of
amputated branches,
beyond the tops
of lesser trees,

[...] Read more

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Muir Woods

Afternoon gray off the Golden Gate Bridge
Clears away now to a lingering blue
With expansive day soaked in bright sunlight;
Tourists ride through wealthy Marin County
As their guide recounts his own narrative
Of the way things used to be in the great
Long-distant past of San Francisco, gone -
"Everything was safe and clean in those days,
Children could walk the streets alone at night, "
He sighs, driving the big bus uphill
To a park submerged in Redwood shadow.

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The Sage

Sequoia, growing grandly
Out of the long ago,
Beloved of Time, whose sons
March by to measures slow,
How tenderly you cherish
All little lives below!

Your mighty column pillars
The blue dome of the sky.
Your foliage plumes with greenness
The clouds that pass on high.
Yet here below slim lilies grow,
And here at peace am I.

How have you won Time over—
That lord of dark renown?
His hand, that withers all things,
Has given your brow a crown.
From your crest forty centuries
Now upon me look down.

[...] Read more

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Which Tree Am I?

Which tree, Which tree, Which tree Am I?
Do gaunt limbs swing high upon my trunk-
Etching signals in the sky?

Maybe my roots are solid and firm,
Grounded in being, strong and thick,
Passing soil and grub worm?

Specifically-
Am I, perhaps, an evergreen?
Warm and welcoming- Sheltering,
Birds within my canopy?

Or-
Do I sag, like a willow,
Showcasing agony with each wind,
Whispering melancholic mellows?

Which tree, Which tree, Which tree, Am I?
Oak, Redwood, Willow…. Bonsai?

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Encounters

Stars cascading,
Sometimes one can see God’s children circle dance around the sun.
As the moon shies away from sky lightening-
Was this the first day?
I encountered your deadpan face,
Though bitterly weeping
Before a broken, hand held looking glass,
Someone is visiting from afar,
Earth-toned, not swarthy
Is the tree, behind which you hide your elf-like countenance?
Your impish grin no longer entices,
The ocean-blue sky
Reeks with the coming of age
Gangrenous-green as mold,
Its stench, putrid, as such,
Overpowers any nuances.
I hear ancient music, as I walk to staccato rhythm
As some walk with the Lord,
As you asked, madam, I told you, I threw your letter away…
Children circle dance around the sun,

[...] Read more

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Dry Lake

Rain lurks
behind clouds
too thin
to send drops,
puddles,
surging waves.


flash floods go north,
to green Seattle,
easy landfall,
where no resistance is
ever given by
sandy bottom or
rocky shore.

There the ancient
desert lies
beneath tons
of breathless redwood,

[...] Read more

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First Party At Ken Kesey's With Hell's Angels

Cool black night thru redwoods
cars parked outside in shade
behind the gate, stars dim above
the ravine, a fire burning by the side
porch and a few tired souls hunched over
in black leather jackets. In the huge
wooden house, a yellow chandelier
at 3 A.M. the blast of loudspeakers
hi-fi Rolling Stones Ray Charles Beatles
Jumping Joe Jackson and twenty youths
dancing to the vibration thru the floor,
a little weed in the bathroom, girls in scarlet
tights, one muscular smooth skinned man
sweating dancing for hours, beer cans
bent littering the yard, a hanged man
sculpture dangling from a high creek branch,
children sleeping softly in their bedroom bunks.
And 4 police cars parked outside the painted
gate, red lights revolving in the leaves.

[...] Read more

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Carl Sandburg

A Tall Man

The mouth of this man is a gaunt strong mouth.
The head of this man is a gaunt strong head.

The jaws of this man are bone of the Rocky Mountains, the Appalachians.
The eyes of this man are chlorine of two sobbing oceans,
Foam, salt, green, wind, the changing unknown.
The neck of this man is pith of buffalo prairie, old longing and new beckoning of corn belt or cotton belt,
Either a proud Sequoia trunk of the wilderness
Or huddling lumber of a sawmill waiting to be a roof.

Brother mystery to man and mob mystery,
Brother cryptic to lifted cryptic hands,
He is night and abyss, he is white sky of sun, he is the head of the people.
The heart of him the red drops of the people,
The wish of him the steady gray-eagle crag-hunting flights of the people.

Humble dust of a wheel-worn road,
Slashed sod under the iron-shining plow,
These of service in him, these and many cities, many borders, many wrangles between Alaska and the Isthmus, between the Isthmus and the Horn, and east and west of Omaha, and east and west of Paris, Berlin, Petrograd.
The blood in his right wrist and the blood in his left wrist run with the right wrist wisdom of the many and the left wrist wisdom of the many.

[...] Read more

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