Mamta Agarwal

Rookie - 0 Points (March 27,1951 / India)

! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! Speaking Trees! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! - Poem by Mamta Agarwal

It was an eight hour transatlantic flight
Airborne, glanced down from 36,000 feet height.
On route back home, in economy comfort, seat belt tied.
Stretched my legs, studying fluffy clouds gently glide.

This had been my first trip to Europe in winter.
As I landed at dawn, though well clad, shivered.
Amsterdam was just beginning to wake up.
To keep myself warm I sipped hot water from a cup.

I saw the canals, windmills as we drove on the highway.
Captivated, thought am really going to enjoy my stay.
Landscape though barren was kind of serene.
I saw some lamas quietly graze in the fields.

The houses with windows dressed, looked so pretty.
With flowers and foliage as if it was mandatory.
Folks were walking their dogs in the lanes and parks.
Top to toe clad in woollens, gently nudging as dogs bark.

On my first day we decided to walk to the forest nearby.
Quietly we walked, and soaked in the morning Sunshine.
How come the bare tree trunks are green, I exclaimed.
Ma, have no clue, you really notice things most quaint.

Do you know most of land has been reclaimed from sea?
Twenty percent of its area lies below sea level you see.
That’s how I think it got its name Netherlands
Fascinated, I was feeling like Alice in wonderland.

I sat on the bench as he walked the cuddly dog.
Tentatively, scratched the surface of the green log.
See, they are covered with moss after the snow melt.
Come, touch, I beckoned him, it feels like felt.

Hey, I can’t see or hear any bird calls or songs.
What’s the matter is something wrong.
Nonplussed said he, I really have no clue.
Suddenly I blurted, I know, I do, I do.

They have flown far far away to warmer climes.
Must be in my backyard, at home at this point in time.
Are you already homesick, he looked at me in the eye?
Aren’t trees beautiful and awesome at all times?

Tulips were slowly coming out of hibernation.
Slowly raising their neck I watched in fascination.
Children were going to school on their bikes.
Blonde tresses flying in the air, a very pretty sight.

On reaching home, went to the photographers shop.
He loaded the snapshots from my camera on his laptop.
I told him the ones I wanted developed in postcard size.
Next day, went to pick up and was sort of surprised.

What have you done to the trees, they were green.
He looked at me, tree trunks green, never seen.
I don’t think you have ever seen a speaking tree.
No, never, do trees talk, he looked at me.

Bare, brown, or loaded with fruits and flowers.
Or just green foliage, wet and shiny after showers.
Yes, trees speak and beckon in all the seasons.
God created them for a very very special reason.






.
.


Comments about ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! Speaking Trees! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! by Mamta Agarwal

  • premji premji (5/19/2010 5:15:00 AM)


    mamtaji,

    you are mother nature........
    my salute........
    (Report) Reply

    0 person liked.
    0 person did not like.
Read all 1 comments »



Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?



Poem Submitted: Friday, May 7, 2010



[Report Error]