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Through The Wood
THROUGH the wood, the green wood, the wet wood, the light wood,
Love and I went maying a thousand lives ago;
Shafts of golden sunlight had made a golden bright wood
In my heart reflected, because I loved you so.
Through the wood, the chill wood, the brown wood, the bare wood,
I alone went lonely no later than last year,
What had thinned the branches, and wrecked my dear and fair wood,
Killed the pale wild roses and left the rose-thorns sere?
Through the wood, the dead wood, the sad wood, the lone wood,
Winds of winter shiver through lichens old and grey,
You ride past forgetting the wood that was our own wood
All our own--and withered as ever a flower of May.
poem by Edith Nesbit
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Fundamental of Liar Chapter XIX: Fruits
grow the fruit till it's big enough
grow the fruit till the color turns red
grow the fruit till it smells good
grow the fruit to be cooked
don't be tricked of what is edible
a beautiful fruit can be sour
a big fruit can be raw
a delicious fruit can be poison
a cooked fruit can be forbidden
be careful of what is edible
poem by Maria Sudibyo
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Sea-Saw (more writing fun)
If I saw a wood boat afloat
Upon the sea,
Would what I see possibly be
The wood I cut from a tree?
For when I saw a tree
I would like to think I see,
What the wood I saw
Could be.
If all I saw in wood from a tree
Was all I saw that there was to see,
Would what I did saw
Be the wood that I now see?
And if the wood I once did saw
Was indeed made into that ship on the sea,
Would it even be possible to know that here what I see
Is the wood once sawed by me?
All I here would dare to share is:
I see what I saw, and I saw what I see,
And therefore the wood I do saw could one day be
The boat I may see, afloat upon the sea.
See?
poem by Smoky Hoss
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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)
Healthy fruit - Guava!
While I entered into my kitchen,
The aroma of a nice fruit pierced my nose!
It gave an euphoria to my sense,
O' It is a smell of Guava!
Yellow in color,
Ripened in nature,
It invited me to eat
and taste;
I took the fruit in my hand,
I took the knife too kept aside,
I cut the fruit gently with care,
into pieces of four;
I tasted the fruit, Guava,
It was yummy yummy,
Very tasty and yummy,
Healthy fruit - Guava!
poem by V.K. Kanniappan
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From The Same Tree
From the same tree
there is the good fruit
there is the bad fruit....
From the same tree
the good fruit goes to the market
the bad fruit...to the soil.
From the same tree
is the reason for the lonely farmer
to wake up each morning
to see how the fruits grow well...
and is the reason for the lonely farmer
for not winning the heart of his beloved
who prefer the city life
From the same tree
there is the good fruit
there is the bad fruit.
poem by Marites C. Cayetano
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An Allure Fruits
bats are back
their fruit trees in fruit
forgotten fruit not
poem by Terence George Craddock
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I like fruit baskets because it gives you the ability to mail someone a piece of fruit without appearing insane. Like, if someone just mailed you an apple you'd be like, 'huh? What the hell is this?' But if it's in a fruit basket you're like, 'this is nice!'
quote by Demetri Martin
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Custard Apple
It hung so near the trunk of the tree,
And stayed unnoticed for a long time,
Hidden by a leafy canopy,
And growing bigger than most others!
It was not scorched by the noon-time sun,
Nor wetted by the lashing rains,
Or shaken by the winds that howl,
But was over-fed in mother's way!
I plucked it off lest someone stole
Or wood-peckers come make a hole,
And parrots beak it up like nuts,
Leaving its empty rind hanging!
I wrapped the fruit in a plastic bag,
And thought it would ripen very soon;
Alas! The fruit never ripened at all,
Remaining green and looking fresh!
It was as hard as granite stone;
It did not dry or change color;
It stayed that way when kept outside,
But never ripened any day!
I pondered what could have happened
Preventing the fruit from ripening;
‘There is a time for everything,
And when a fruit ripens! ' - says the Bible.
Yet, human beings find new ways
Of doing things unnaturally;
Nevertheless, they hardly win;
But Mother Nature does better!
Man's knowledge and experience fails
In every field and every sphere;
The Nature, God created stays
Unraveled, unrivaled winner always.
Copyright by Dr John Celes 10-10-2012
poem by John Celes
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Knock On Wood
I dont want to lose the good thing that Ive got
If I do, I will surely, I will lose a lot
For your love is better than any love other Ive know
Its like thunder, lightning
The way you love me is frightening
I better knock on wood
Baby
I got superstitious about you, but I cant take change
You got me spinning, baby, spinning in a trance
But your love is better than any other love Ive known
Its like thunder, lightning
The way you love me is frightening
You better knock on wood
Its no secret, but that woman fills my lovin cup
She sees, so ready, that I get enough
And her love is better than any other love Ive known
Its like thunder
Its like lightning
The way you love me is frightening
I better knock on wood
Baby
Better, yes, better
(yes you better knock, knock, knock on wood) yes, I better
(yes you better knock, knock, knock on wood) oh, knock on wood
(yes you better knock, knock, knock on wood) you know I would, would
(yes you better knock, knock, knock on wood) its no secret
(yes you better knock, knock, knock on wood) no, oh, better
(yes you better knock, knock, knock on wood) hangin above me
(yes you better knock, knock, knock on wood) I cant leave her
(yes you better knock, knock, knock on wood) oh no, baby
Knock on wood, woo!
song performed by by David Bowie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Seed Within
what are you going to do?
he might ask
are you going to wait
are you going to wait
for the seed to take root
bloom and bear fruit
leave it to me
he might say
i will give you the fruit in a capsule
you give me your seed...why toil
he would ploy
A FRUIT IN A CAPSULE IS'NT A FRUIT AT ALL
The path too is a joy
the growth too is a joy
from the seed to the fruit
a spiritual share is a joy too
the giver and the taker share the joy
if it was a share
which gave you joy
how can you use it
as a ploy
poem by Samanyan Lakshminarayanan
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Eve, Oh Eve
Why wouldn't Eve have eaten of the fruit?
Didn't she have a hand to reach out with,
Fingers with which to make a fist?
Didn't Eve have a stomach for feeling hunger,
A tongue for feeling thirst,
A heart with which to love?
Well, then, why wouldn't Eve have eaten of the fruit?
Why would she merely have suppressed her wishes,
Regulated her steps,
Subdued her thirst?
Why would she have been so compelled
To keep Adam moving around in the Garden of Eden all their lives?
Because Eve did eat of the fruit,
There is sky and earth.
Because she has eaten,
There are moon, sun, rivers, seas,
Because she has eaten, trees, plans and vines.
because Eve has eaten of the fruit
there is joy, because she has eaten there is joy.
joy, joy-
Eating of the fruit, Eve made a heaven of the earth.
Eve, if you get hold of the fruit
don't ever refrain from eating.
poem by Taslima Nasrin
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Alumni Hall
surrounded by old wood
you breathe wood
and you feel the wood
breathing you too
all around you
in deep sleep
the past comes still dreaming of you
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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I Am......
i
transform
myself
i do not create
myself
i do not destroy
myself
i do not have
that power
i am ripe
as a red luscious
fruit
i am not my curse
oh i cease
to be just
a word
or a work of
art
beyond wood and metal
beyond
my own canvass,
i fall
so gently
and surrender
to my root
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Wood Handled Shovel
I take its smooth wood in my hands
to turn the earth as spring returns.
I make straight furrows in my garden
Like those before me worked the land.
This was Dad's shovel years ago
And in my father's callused hands
it coaxed our plot to yield us fruit
as good as any farmer's stand.
Outside of faded photographs
So few of father's things remain
His house torn down, his stuff dispersed.
his kingdom shrunken to a grave.
Of all the things that I possess
this little shovel made of wood
is my link to Him I loved
and to a time when life was good.
J.M.
poem by John F. McCullagh
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I starve for a fruit on a tree
I am forbidden to pluck
the fruit that ripened.
I can get access to fallen
fruit, but it is rotten.
My desire exists.
My want is not sated.
One consolation-
I am not weary of you
who I am in pursuit of
and in whom my taste is alive
as you aren’t a fallen fruit.
04.05.2001, Pmdi
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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The Helmsman
O be swift—
we have always known you wanted us.
We fled inland with our flocks.
we pastured them in hollows,
cut off from the wind
and the salt track of the marsh.
We worshipped inland—
we stepped past wood-flowers,
we forgot your tang,
we brushed wood-grass.
We wandered from pine-hills
through oak and scrub-oak tangles,
we broke hyssop and bramble,
we caught flower and new bramble-fruit
in our hair: we laughed
as each branch whipped back,
we tore our feet in half-buried rocks
and knotted roots and acorn-cups.
We forgot—we worshipped,
we parted green from green,
we sought further thickets,
we dipped our ankles
through leaf-mould and earth,
and wood and wood-bank enchanted us—
and the feel of the clefts in the bark,
and the slope between tree and tree—
and a slender path strung field to field
and wood to wood
and hill to hill
and the forest after it.
We forgot—for a moment
tree-resin, tree-bark,
sweat of a torn branch
were sweet to taste.
We were enchanted with the fields,
the tufts of coarse grass—
in the shorter grass—
we loved all this.
But now, our boat climbs—hesitates—drops—
climbs—hesitates—crawls back—
climbs—hesitates—
O, be swift—
we have always known you wanted us.
poem by Hilda Doolittle
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Forbidden Fruit
Sometimes fruit
is forbidden
one must
look
away.
Like Eve in the
garden
forbidden
fruit
on
display.
Little did she
know
the price
she
would pay.
Forbidden fruit
forever
sometimes
dreams
go
astray.
poem by Heather Burns
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Forbidden Fruit
He offered her forbidden fruit
and had she turned away
she never would have tasted it.
But much to her dismay
it was much too tempting.
She could not leave it alone.
She grasped at it greedily
and now she must atone.
And so the Garden of Eden
flashes before her mind.
Sorrow fills the air she breathes
and the fruit on which she dined
has left a bitter taste in her.
But in her heart she knows
that all the sweetness of the fruit
taught the lesson from which she grows.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Forbidden Fruit
all the forbidden fruit I ever
dreamt of--or was taught to
resist and fear--ripens and
blossoms under the palms of my
hands as they uncover and explore
you--and in the most secret
corners of my heart as it discovers
and adores you--the forbidden fruit
of forgiveness--the forbidden fruit
of finally feeling the happiness
you were afraid you didn't deserve--
the forbidden fruit of my life's labor
--the just payment I have avoided
since my father taught me how--
the forbidden fruit of the secret
language of our survivors' souls as
they unfold each others secret
ballots--the ones where we voted
for our first secret desires to come
true--there's so much more
I want to say to you--but for
the first time in my life I'm at
a loss for words--because
(I understand at last)
I don't need them
to be heard by you.
Submitted by Venus
poem by Michael Lally
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