Do men gather grapes of thorns, or figs of thistles?
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Illegal Lust
Excessive illegal lust and of the muse of your love so exposed,
But through the law came free knowledge for all!
And of your throat that is opened like the tomb,
But think twice on this love that you may not sin!
The posion of the asps is under your tongue,
And of the excessive lust that is illegal to your heart;
For all have sinned and have come short of the glory of Yahweh.
Though the laws are beside you, it takes someone to teach you;
And like the 'Gods Book of Eskra',
Where 'Krishna' and 'Sanskrit' stand for 'Christ':
And from the apotheosis of the Roman decree.
Do not men gather grapes from thorns of figs from thistles? !
And of the mixture of righteousness and evil;
For you now lust after the married woman in your neighbourhood.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The War
There is a sound of thunder afar,
Storm in the south that darkens the day,
Storm of battle and thunder of war,
Well, if it do not roll our way.
Form! form! Riflemen form!
Ready, be ready to meet the storm!
Riflemen, riflemen, riflemen form!
Be not deaf to the sound that warns!
Be not gull'd by a despot's plea!
Are figs of thistles or grapes of thorns?
How should a despot set men free?
Form! form! Riflemen form!
Ready, be ready to meet the storm!
Riflemen, riflemen, riflemen form!
Let your Reforms for a moment go,
Look to your butts and make good aims.
Better a rotten borough or so,
Than a rotten fleet or a city of flames!
Form! form! Riflemen form!
Ready, be ready to meet the storm!
Riflemen, riflemen, riflemen form!
Form, be ready to do or die!
Form in freedom's name and the Queen's!
True, that we have a faithful ally,
But only the devil knows what he means!
Form! form! Riflemen form!
Ready, be ready to meet the storm!
Riflemen, riflemen, riflemen form!
poem by Alfred Lord Tennyson
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My candle burns at both ends
It will not last the night;
But ah, my foes, and oh, my friends -
It gives a lovely light.
Edna St. Vincent Millay in A Few Figs from Thistles (1920)
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Currants On A Bush
Currants on a bush,
And figs upon a stem,
And cherries on a bending bough,
And Ned to gather them.
poem by Christina Georgina Rossetti
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Thistles and thorns prick sore, but evil tongues prick even more.
Thistles and thorns prick sore, but evil tongues prick more.
I shall forget you presently, my dear
I shall forget you presently, my dear,
So make the most of this, your little day,
Your little month, your little half a year,
Ere I forget, or die, or move away,
And we are done forever; by and by
I shall forget you, as I said, but now,
If you entreat me with your loveliest lie
I willl protest you with my favorite vow.
I would indeed that love were longer-lived,
And vows were not so brittle as they are,
But so it is, and nature has contrived
To struggle on without a break thus far,
Whether or not we find what we are seeking
Is idle, biologically speaking.
poem by Edna St. Vincent Millay from A Few Figs from Thistles (1920)
Submitted by anonym
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Better be grass
Love grows
When both gather in the way.
Love thrives
Even when they are away.
But it dies out
Once one of them turns away.
Grow therein
Sometimes thorns in the way.
Don’t turn away
For thorns to grow
25.08.99
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Figs he calls figs, a spade a spade. [Said of a man who speaks with sincerity and means what he says.]
I laid me down upon a bank..
I laid me down upon a bank
Where love lay sleeping
I heard among the rushes dank
Weeping Weeping
Then I went to the heath & the wild 5
To the thistles & thorns of the waste
And they told me how they were beguild
Driven out & compeld to be chaste
poem by William Blake from Songs and Ballads (1793)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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A Better Tomorrow
A garden of thorns and thistles,
Someone had ceceicved you my love;
And flying up high like an eagle to view the world,
But someone had stolen your love away from me.
I can't trust anyone again in this land of hatred,
For you came and ate from my tree of love;
And now you are very worried!
But there will be a better tomorrow for me.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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That I Wants
what I'm looking for real I will not even be able to get
if my heart is restless
searching for the truth is not so I need
if looking for something just to guarantee the enjoyment of the world
and appear to be critical in the presence of a few people
although tired I had to keep fighting my low self-defeating
if only I still want to find exactly what I look for
the already stretched in sight
although full of thistles and thorns
but that is what pays for the pleasure that I wants
Copyright © 2012
The rose has thorns only for those who would gather it.
We Gather Together...
We Gather Together...
We gather together...
...for there is strength in your name
We gather together...
...to rekindle the flame
We gather together...
...Your kingdom we claim
We gather together...
...Your words we proclaim
15 Jan 2008
He who would gather roses, must not fear thorns.
Green Grapes
I have some green grapes at their best
And I am waiting for you to pass by
For these grapes are of such great taste
It is the truth so I swear and so I sigh
They were raised upon mountains high
where the wind softly murmur and blow
And a herd of wild horses feeds nigh
On tall grass blades rooted grow
So this is why my grapes are so sweet
The mountain spring by them lead
Tall reeds guard the fenced gates
To keep out the ugly crow’s gait
Quietly my green grapes wait
For the clock sounds the hour late
What makes you hesitate?
What makes you not keep your date?
Therefore my green grapes with me are so sad
And I am waiting not have gone yet to bed
If you only give your saint like smile in a glance
My face will be covered with happy countenance
But here I hear approaching steps from the south
My green grapes are full of hopes for your mouth
But still I am so lonely and sad
Since to bring flowers you forbade
May be next year you change your mind
And to my request you be more kind
And I will bring you flowers from the bowers
Wet with rain of rainbow showers
A flimsy fancy flattered my mind
Yet again it seemed overbold
If you can just love me for a while short
I always consider you gentle and kind
But sometimes you are remote and cold
May be my approaches are too bold
And most hurtful are your scorns
Sharp and fierce worse than a thousand thorns
Alas, I hear no more sound where I stand
But the rivulet on from the lawn
Running down to the wood sand
And my fear like an evil feeling drawn
My hopes diminished that you eat my green grapes
And feel my pangs and heart aches
This is why I keep talking to my green grapes
So one day you feel my pains and shakes
So please be kind and rethink again
And let me bring you flowers from the plain
Flowers are so much nicer and have various scents
Although green grapes are my dear loyal friends
copy rights 2010
He who plants thorns must never expect to gather roses.