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Upon The Barren Fig-Tree In God's Vineyard
What, barren here! in this so good a soil?
The sight of this doth make God's heart recoil
From giving thee his blessing; barren tree,
Bear fruit, or else thine end will cursed be!
Art thou not planted by the water-side?
Know'st not thy Lord by fruit is glorified?
The sentence is, Cut down the barren tree:
Bear fruit, or else thine end will cursed be.
Hast thou been digg'd about and dunged too,
Will neither patience nor yet dressing do?
The executioner is come, O tree,
Bear fruit, or else thine end will cursed be!
He that about thy roots takes pains to dig,
Would, if on thee were found but one good fig,
Preserve thee from the axe: but, barren tree,
Bear fruit, or else thy end will cursed be!
The utmost end of patience is at hand,
'Tis much if thou much longer here doth stand.
O cumber-ground, thou art a barren tree.
Bear fruit, or else thine end will cursed be!
Thy standing nor they name will help at all;
When fruitful trees are spared, thou must fall.
The axe is laid unto thy roots, O tree!
Bear fruit, or else thine end will cursed be.
poem by John Bunyan
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A Tree's Fruit
Good fruit or bad fruit, a tree can only bear one,
This parable was taught by God's one and only Son.
First mentioned by John as a warning for the Pharisees to heed,
But being blind to The Truth, most of them would not believe.
Your life is the tree and your deeds are the fruit,
This is a simple analogy that it hard to dispute.
But the Pharisees who knew the Word and lived in the land,
Were rebuked by John the Baptist, as they didn't understand.
Christians need to produce fruit for the Lord and nothing less,
And all the fruit that we produce should be fruits of righteousness.
Our old nature will produce fruit that comes from the past,
Not only is this fruit bad, but it's the kind that won't last.
Not only is bearing good fruit The Lord's heart desire,
But trees that continue to bear bad fruit may be cast in the fire.
Within your own heart is where the good or bad fruit is stored,
And by your fruits men will know you, is made clear by The Lord.
The fruit of righteousness is a tree of life, was once said,
However, a tree that bears bad fruit may be eternally dead.
What fruit you produce is strictly your choice my dear friend,
And by this choice you will either be blessed or condemned.
( 03/2002)
Strange Fruit
Southern trees bear a strange fruit
Blood on the leaves and blood at the root
Black bodies swinging in the southern breeze
Strange fruit hanging from the poplar trees
Pastoral scene of the gallant south
The bulging eyes and the twisted mouth
Scent of magnolia sweet and fresh
Then the sudden smell of burning flesh.
Here is a fruit for the crow to pluck
For the rain to wither, for the wind to suck
For the sun to rot, for the trees to drop
Here is a strange and bitter crop.
song performed by by Ub40
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Strange Fruit
Lewis allen
Southern trees bear strange fruit,
Blood on the leaves and blood at the root,
Black bodies swinging in the southern breeze,
Strange fruit hanging from the poplar trees.
Pastoral scene of the gallant south,
The bulging eyes and the twisted mouth,
Scent of magnolias, sweet and fresh,
Then the sudden smell of burning flesh.
Here is fruit for the crows to pluck,
For the rain to gather, for the wind to suck,
For the sun to rot, for the trees to drop,
Here is a strange and bitter crop.
song performed by by Billie Holiday
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sanctuary
'And on the banks, on both sides of the river, there will grow all kinds of trees for food. Their leaves will not wither nor their fruit fail, but they will bear fresh fruit every month, because the water
for them flows from the sanctuary. Their fruit will be for food, and their leaves for healing.' ~ Ezekiel 47: 12
sanctuary
dying trees
and fallen
leaves
dried river
hungry heart
and wounded liver
sanctuary
bones of dust
sanctuary
my head
know longer knows
poem by Jay Reynolds
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Strange Fruit
(l. allan)
Southern trees bear a strange fruit
Blood on the leaves and blood at the roots
Black bodies swingin in the southern breeze
Strange fruit hangin from the poplar trees
Pastoral scene of the gallant south
The bulging eyes and twisted mouth
Scent of magnolias sweet and fresh
And the sudden smell of burning flesh
Here is the fruit
For the crows to pluck
For the rain to gather
For the wind to suck
For the sun to rot
For the tree to drop
Here is a strange and bitter crop
song performed by by Diana Ross
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Strange Fruit
(l.allen)
Originally performed by billie holiday. jeff performed it live on air at kcrws man in the moon, on january 1994.
Southern trees bear strange fruit
Blood on the leaves and blood at the root
Black bodies swinging in the southern breeze
Strange fruit hanging from the poplar trees.
Pastoral scene of the gallant south
The bulging eyes and the twisted mouth
Scent of magnolias, sweet and fresh
Then the sudden smell of burning flesh.
Here is fruit for the crows to pluck
For the rain to gather, for the wind to suck
For the sun to rot, for the trees to drop
Here is a strange and bitter crop.
song performed by by Jeff Buckley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Fog
Fog is there everywhere
and my
thumb impression is here.
Thrust and recognised
here I am
where sea and sky assume
where my dream blossom.
You are here all days
looking for bear fruit
or fruit bear.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The trees that are slow to grow bear the best fruit.
Elm trees have beautiful branches but hardly ever bear fruit.
The oldest trees often bear the sweetest fruit.
Strange Fruit
Lewis allen, sonny white
Seven trees
Bearin strange fruit
Blood on the leaves
And blood at the roots
Black bodies
Swinging in the southern breeze
Strange fruit hangin
From the poplar trees
Pastoral scene
Of the gallant south
Them big bulging eyes
And the twisted mouth
Scent of magnolia
Clean and fresh
Then the sudden smell
Of burnin flesh
Here is a fruit
For the crows to pluck
For the rain to gather
For the wind to suck
For the sun to rot
For the leaves to drop
Here is
Strange and bitter crop
As singed by billie holiday
Southern trees bear strange fruit,
Blood on the leaves and blood at the root,
Black bodies swinging in the southern breeze,
Strange fruit hanging from the poplar trees.
Pastoral scene of the gallant south,
The bulging eyes and the twisted mouth,
Scent of magnolias, sweet and fresh,
Then the sudden smell of burning flesh.
Here is fruit for the crows to pluck,
For the rain to gather, for the wind to suck,
For the sun to rot, for the trees to drop,
Here is a strange and bitter cry.
song performed by by Nina Simone
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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An Allure Fruits
bats are back
their fruit trees in fruit
forgotten fruit not
poem by Terence George Craddock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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It is soon known which trees will bear fruit. [A natural bent for good or evil is easily perceptible in youth.]
Strange Fruit
Southern trees bear a strange fruit
Blood on the leaves, blood at the root
Black bodies swinging in the southern breeze
Strange fruit hanging from the poplar tree.
Pastoral scene of the gallant South
The bulging eyes, and the twisted mouth
Scent of magnolia, cool and fresh
And the smell of the burning flesh.
Here is the fruit for the crows to pluck
For the rain to gather, for the wind to suck
For the sun to rot, for a tree to drop
Here is a strange and bitter crop.
So strange
So strange
song performed by by Sting
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Sour Lemon Tree
A sour lemon tree flower attracts the bee
While its fruit is bitter not so its flower
White is its flower sweet and very pretty
Only the fruit is bitter and that's just a pity
As the beauty of its flower resist not a bee
It's the simple truth
Or see the sour lemon tree
With fruit that is bitter bears a lemon tree
But useful is its fruit good for everyday use
Once said a bee... your flower is very sweet
It carries fragrance scented out in the street
Yet bears you fruit bitter no one wants to eat
It's partly the truth
Or see the sour lemon tree
A citrus tree with fruit no other tree bears
Then out of the tree came a nice neat voice
'Twas like a voice of one who's very wise
This is what it said trees are not so free
One made a decree for every bearing tree
It's partly the truth
Or see the sour lemon tree
The Creator decides the fruit a tree bears
Whether it be bitter or whether it be sweet
The Creator decrees for every bearing tree
To bring forth fruit ordained for it to bear
Then sweet or bitter bears a tree its fruit
It's the simple truth
Or see the sour lemon tree.
poem by Clarence Prince
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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If These Are The Things
If these are the things that
Dreams are made of
Why don't I dream
Anymore
I've tried to tell myeself
Nothing's changed my dear
But I look around me
And think maybe that's not so
I only have nightmares
And wake up with cold sweat
Coming through my pores
Why don't I dream anymore
I'm in the garden
All the trees bear fruit
I have to pick them before they fall
I finnaly grab one
I hold it in my hand
I open it up
It's rotten to the core
Why don't I dream anymore
If these are the things that
Dreams are made of
Why don't I dream
Anymore
We lose our patience
Lose our trust
Yes we lose our innocence
To forget our sorrow and hide our pain
We lose old memories
But dreams are what life's worth living for
I wish I could dream
Once more
I'm in the garden
All the trees bear fruit
I have to pick them
Before they fall
I finnaly grab one
I hold it in my hand
I open it up
It's rotten to the core
Why don't I dream anymore
If these are the things that
Dreams are made of
Why don't I dream anymore
I've tried to tell myself
It's all for the best my dear
But I look around me and think
Maybe that's not so
I only have nightmares
Wake up in a cold sweat
Have I become as corrupt
As all I abhor
Why don't I dream anymore
I'm in the garden
All the trees bear fruit
I have to pick them
Before they fall
I finnaly grab one
I hold it in my hand
I open it up
It's rotten to the core
Why don't I dream anymore
If these are the things that
Dreams are made of
If these are the things that
Dreams are made of
If these are the things that
Dreams are made of
I don't want anymore
song performed by by Tracy Chapman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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If There Are The Thigns
If these are the things that
Dreams are made of
Why dont I dream
Anymore
Ive tried to tell myself
Nothings changed my dear
But I look around me
And think maybe thats not so
I only have nightmares
And wake up with cold sweat
Coming through my pores
Why dont I dream anymore
Im in the garden
All the trees bear fruit
I have to pick them before they fall
I finally grab one
I hold it in my hand
I open it up
Its rotten to the core
Why dont I dream anymore
If these are the things that
Dreams are made of
Why dont I dream
Anymore
We lose our patience
Lose our trust
Yes we lose our innocence
To forget our sorrow and hide our pain
We lose old memories
But dreams are what lifes worth living for
I wish I could dream
Once more
Im in the garden
All the trees bear fruit
I have to pick them before they fall
I finally grab one
I hold it in my hand
I open it up
Its rotten to the core
Why dont I dream anymore
If these are the things that
Dreams are made of
Why dont I dream anymore
Ive tried to tell myself
Its all for the best my dear
But I look around me and think
Maybe thats not so
I only have nightmares
Wake up in a cold sweat
Have I become as corrupt
As all I abhor
Im in the garden
All the trees bear fruit
I have to pick them before they fall
I finally grab one
I hold it in my hand
I open it up
Its rotten to the core
Why dont I dream anymore
If these are the things that
Dreams are made of
If these are the things that
Dreams are made of
If these are the things that
Dreams are made of
I dont want anymore
song performed by by Tracy Chapman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Karen
Disillusioned with the dwarf fruit trees,
And with the seeds and tools to march on to my farm;
But, how could you not get enough of my love?
The doorbells rang as i was carrying my bags to the front door,
There i met Karen without having a second thought!
But don't be disillusioned with the dwarf fruit trees around.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Fruit Not Felled By The Wind
old fruit trees shedding petals in the wind
fragrant lily white petals strew green grass
before wedding of tree love born on wind
flowers endure grace old trees with fruit
poem by Terence George Craddock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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