Some of the sweetest berries grow among the sharpest thorns.
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Green Grow the Rashes
Green grow the rashes, O
Green grow the rashes, O
The sweetest hours that e'er I spend,
Are spent among the lasses, O
There's nought but care on ev'ry han',
In every hour that passes, O
What signifies the life o' man,
An' 'twere na for the lasses, O.
Green grow the rashes, O
Green grow the rashes, O
The sweetest hours that e'er I spend,
Are spent among the lasses, O
The warl'y race may riches chase,
An' riches still may fly them, O
An' tho' at last they catch them fast,
Their hearts can ne'er enjoy them, O.
Green grow the rashes, O
Green grow the rashes, O
The sweetest hours that e'er I spend,
Are spent among the lasses, O
But gie me a cannie hour at e'en,
My arms about my dearie, O,
An' warl'y cares an' war'ly men
May a' gae tapsalteerie, O!
Green grow the rashes, O
Green grow the rashes, O
The sweetest hours that e'er I spend,
Are spent among the lasses, O
For you sae douce, ye sneer at this
Ye're nought but senseless asses, O
The wisest man the warl' e'er saw,
He dearly lov'd the lasses, O.
Green grow the rashes, O
Green grow the rashes, O
The sweetest hours that e'er I spend,
Are spent among the lasses, O
Auld Nature swears, the lovely dears
Her noblest work she classes, O
Her prentice han' she try'd on man,
An' then she made the lasses, O.
Green grow the rashes, O
Green grow the rashes, O
The sweetest hours that e'er I spend,
Are spent among the lasses, O
poem by Robert Burns
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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There are many colourful flowers on the path of life, but the prettiest have the sharpest thorns.
The Tree Of Scarlet Berries
The rain gullies the garden paths
And tinkles on the broad sides of grass blades.
A tree, at the end of my arm, is hazy with mist.
Even so, I can see that it has red berries,
A scarlet fruit,
Filmed over with moisture.
It seems as though the rain,
Dripping from it,
Should be tinged with colour.
I desire the berries,
But, in the mist, I only scratch my hand on the thorns.
Probably, too, they are bitter.
poem by Amy Lowell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Sodger's Lassie
A'the toun is to the doun
Puin' o' the blaeberrie.
Ab's gane, Rab's gane,
Aggie's gane, Maggie's gane,
A' the toun is to the doun,
An's left the house to wae and me.
Heigho the blaeberrie!
Wha'll hae a blaeberrie?
Ah, to min' o' auld lang syne,
Puin' o' the blaeberrie!
Sodger Tam, he cam an' cam,
Puin' o' the blaeberrie;
Still I went, an' still I bent,
Puin' o' the blaeberrie.
Berries high, an' berries low,
Heigho the blaeberrie!
Tam maun come where berries grow,
Puin' o' the blaeberrie.
Heigho the blaeberrie!
Wha'll hae a blaeberrie?
Ah, to min' o' auld lang syne,
Puin' o' the blaeberrie!
Never ance I looked at Tam,
Heigho the blaeberrie!
Weel I kent him when he cam,
Puin' o' the blaeberrie.
Baith our faces to the groun',
Puin' o' the blaeberrie,
Tam cam near without a soun',
Heigho the blaeberrie!
Wow! but we were near, I ween,
Puin' o' the blaeberrie!
A' the air was warm between,
Heigho the blaeberrie!
Could a lassie think o' ill,
Puin' o' the blaeberrie?
Berries e'en grow where they will,
Heigho the blaeberrie!
Berries here, an' berries there,
Heigho the blaeberrie!
I was kissed or I was ware,
Puin' o' the blaeberrie.
Wha wad fash wi' ane anither
Puin' o' the blaeberrie?
Berries whiles will grow thegither,
Heigho the blaeberrie!
I was kissed or I could speer,
Heigho the blaeberrie!
Hech! that folk sud come sae near,
A' to pu' a blaeberrie!
While I grat and chid forbye,
Heigho the blaeberrie!
Doun we sat-I ken na why-
A' amang the blaeberrie.
Heigho the blaeberrie!
Wha 'll hae a blaeberrie?
Oh, to min' o' auld lang syne,
A' amang the blaeberrie!
Sidelong Tam he cam an' cam
A' amang the blaeberrie.
Wha could tell he meant na fair?
Weel I ken I chid him sair,
But that day we gaed na mair
Puin' o' the blaeberrie!
Heigho the blaeberrie!
Wha 'll hae a blaeberrie?
Oh, to min' o' auld lang syne,
Doun amang the blaeberrie!
poem by Sydney Thompson Dobell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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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Acacia of my blood
When I let my eyes go over the earth
in the distance there’s a pretty green tree,
that stands out.
On the edge of Africa
her branches reach to the sky
and she almost touches the clouds.
I see that God could make no other
so wonderful and exceptional
and that as a sprout,
He protected her against overwhelming darkness.
Later a super power’s dread knights had drawn
their strongest weapons against her
and fire touched her bark,
but her thorns made them wrench
and drew painful blood.
She was trodden down and axed to pieces,
but with time her stem sprouted out again
and new shoots shot out
and grew stronger than before.
Out of the North
the enemy tried to put their hand to her again,
but where they stroke
her own gum brought healing
and they were torn apart
by huge branches with thousands of white thorns.
From near there’s great white thorns
that almost throngs each other out
and branches that braid against each other,
as if no one can grow together
and each has a live of its own.
Still they stream from all over the continent
to eat her berries and catch shade in her shadow
and her seedlings are sprouting out all over the world.
Acacia of my blood,
I will always be proud of you
and are called by God to be one of your offspring.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Baby Your Love Is The Sweetest Sin
Baby your love is the sweetest sin
Which shines like the stars above
Baby your love is the sweetest sin
That shows you’ll always be my luv
Baby your love is the sweetest sin
Adding music to my life
Baby your love is the sweetest sin
Which saves me from this pain and strife
Baby your love is the sweetest sin
You know you rock my world
Baby your love is the sweetest sin
You know I’ll always be your girl
Baby your love is the sweetest sin
Which washes away my pain
Baby your love is the sweetest sin
I’m happy and you’re the one to blame
Baby your love is the sweetest sin
Of you I’ll never tire
Baby your love is the sweetest sin
You are the spark that lights my fire
Baby your love is the sweetest sin
To you I’ll always be devout
Baby your love is the sweetest sin
Which I cannot live without
poem by Jade Hymora
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Sweetest Feeling
Will Young
Sweetest Feeling
The better you look baby
The better you look
The more I want you
When you turn on your smile
I feel my heart go wild
I'm like a child with a brand new toy
And I get the
Sweetest feeling
Honey the Sweetest (Sweetest Feeling)
Baby the Sweetest (Sweetest Feeling)
Loving you, ya
The warmer your kiss
The deeper you touch me baby
The deeper your touch
The more you thrill me
It's more than I can stand
Girl, when you hold my hand
I feel so grand
That I could cry
And I get the (Sweetest Feeling)
Moma the sweetest (Sweetest Feeling)
Baby the sweetest (Sweetest Feeling)
Loving you
uhh The greater your love
The stronger you hold me baby
The stronger your hold
The more I need You.
With every passing day
I love you more in everyway
I'm in love to stay
And I wanna say
I get the (Sweetest Feeling)
Baby the sweetest (Sweetest Feeling)
Honey the sweetest (Sweetest Feeling)
Loving You
aw (Sweetest Feeling)
Baby the sweetest (Sweetest Feeling)
Sweetest
song performed by by Will Young
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Berries! ! ! ! !
Mulberries
On a visit to granny in the Doon valley
It was March, the old tree full of Mulberries.
Red, purple teasing from far, ran with cane basket.
Picked one, ate some while the birds created a racket.
Strawberries
Strawberri es in white boxes, one atop other
The hawker sat on his knees, said go no further.
I protest too expensive, not for the masses.
Rich eat raw, make a tart or with cream in glasses.
Wild Berries
On way back from school at noon, attack wild berries.
Are for free and so yummy, home a lot we carry.
We laugh and shriek as our skirts get stuck in thorns,
Satiated, come back home, with berries, skirt torn
Written in ancient japanese form Sitigotyo
06.04.09
Mamta Agarwal
poem by Mamta Agarwal
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Be The Garden Not The Gardener
the thoughts growing in your mind
are thorns
you are the one growing them in your mind
let no thought grow there
let yourself be not the grower of these thoughts they are the thorns
let your mind be just the garden
let Him spread the seeds and let these seeds grow like
some clouds seeded in the skies
let Him grow the thoughts in you
you see them
they are the red roses
because you are the garden
you are not the gardener
you have never been and you are never the good one
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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This Is The Sweetest Suicide
life goes on
just another day
this is the sweetest suicide
blood pours out
of my open wounds
this is the sweetest suicide
the haunting smiles
and heartless laughter
this is the sweetest suicide
the pills are counted
the knife is sharp
this is the sweetest suicide
the letter placed
my final breath
this is the sweetest suicide
and now at last
i say goodbye
this is the sweetest suicide
poem by Tashi Coote
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The sweetest to man
The sweetest word is sex.
The sweetest thing is woman.
The sweetest feeling is love.
The sweetest doing is courting.
Most of the happiest things
Come only during these happenings.
20.06.2006
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sweetest Little Show
Well they can treat you like a brother
Yeah they can treat you like a clown
But if they treat you like a lover
Theyve got the sweetest little show in town
You got the sweetest little show
Sweetest little show
Sweetest little show in town
Youve been around a long time
But youre still good for a while
And if they try to criticise you
Make them smile, make them smile
And if they treat you like a brother
Well you will never let them down
But if they treat you like a lover
Theyve got the sweetest little show in town
They got the sweetest little show
Sweetest little show
Sweetest little show in town
You got the sweetest little show
Sweetest little show
Sweetest little show in town
- guitar piece -
You got the sweetest little show
Sweetest little show...
song performed by by Paul McCartney
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Deadliest
The sharpest weapon
I saw in your look.
The sweetest music
I heard from your talk.
The sexiest part
I found in your lips.
The costliest diamond
I had in your comments
The kindest act
I got in your acceptance.
The heavenliest nest
I set in your heart.
The tastiest feeds
Should be your mouth.
The warmest feeling
Should be my embrace.
The safest rest
Should be your company.
The greatest bliss
Will be in our confluence.
But the deadliest blow
You give me by tantalizing.
Don’t reap sins
13.06.99
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Forest Of Berries
The forest expected it, the woods create,
A storm has arrived with the leaves;
Wind blew and created, the leaves turned,
Bellies adjusted to the food.
What were berries? The berry is wonderful,
For the strawberry is the best.
A forest of leaves crazes me, as no other,
Never in too many lives does it create.
Tomorrow it lies with leaves and more,
The best berries are for me, the law;
When are you expected to dance?
The hour is near when the berries are present.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Appearances
I hated them when I was four years old,
The bright pink berries on the pepper tree.
And now they seem quite beautiful to me.
My tower of dreams when I was four years old
Was such a tree. Its branches hid me well,
Although I so disliked the berries' smell.
I had my dreams when I was four years old . . .
But groundling now, who once could mount in air,
I judge the high-swung bright pink berries, fair.
poem by Lesbia Harford
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Premature
Pale berries fade to bright
Leaves green whisper autumn
Creasing brown and crisping - falling,
July parts with Summer sudden as fright.
Hedges swelling berries threaten indigo
Fallen Summer lightly crunches underfoot
Lazy spotted silk flits amongst the cabbages,
As rain drips and autumn winds blow.
Harvest dawns soon but now
It’s colours, winds and crops grow,
Fattening Moon and Sun to lingering orange
Swelling cold to comfort woe.
28-7-05
poem by Laura Russell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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