The prickly pear has company only when it bears fruit.
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Emily Dickinson's Birthday Present
Emily Dickinson's Birthday Present
Miss Dickinson, You are a pear
Prickly in my bed
You fight to hold the covers up
And hiss, 'We are not wed! '
Let me see at least one breast
And kiss its' purple grape
You stay my wrist with iron bands
And softly whisper, 'Rape! ';
This is not fair my prickly pear,
I want to see you nude!
You wrap the sheets and mummify
And tell me I am crude;
Have all your words and clever play
Been a scattering of seeds,
Oh I would plough your two locked legs,
Yet you won't do the deed.
With fiendish strength I guide your hand,
'Oh won't you hold my member? '
She pulls away and turns around,
'My birthday's in December.'
poem by David McLansky
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Framing a spurt of Spring
the day is baroque
with daisies' faces
lifted to the sun
my feet lift and knock
on spring's lenient ground
where tortoises' dance
lead them to drink from proud
prickly pear's leaf
and rocks are small
under the yellow rays
of the round clock
the slow spring day
is ticking and saying
the day is baroque
and colour licks
an orange shock
for autumn's mind
left summer behind
in green thorny itch
and I am treading
an interesting quest
for prickly pear's nest
in a field of daisies
and winter's leaking ills
in the splendor of spring
The Bare Necessities
Look for the bare necessities
The simple bare necessities
Forget about your worries and your strife
I mean the bare necessities
Old Mother Nature's recipes
That brings the bare necessities of life
Wherever I wander, wherever I roam
I couldn't be fonder of my big home
The bees are buzzin' in the tree
To make some honey just for me
When you look under the rocks and plants
And take a glance at the fancy ants
Then maybe try a few
The bare necessities of life will come to you
They'll come to you!
Look for the bare necessities
The simple bare necessities
Forget about your worries and your strife
I mean the bare necessities
That's why a bear can rest at ease
With just the bare necessities of life
Now when you pick a pawpaw
Or a prickly pear
And you prick a raw paw
Next time beware
Don't pick the prickly pear by the paw
When you pick a pear
Try to use the claw
But you don't need to use the claw
When you pick a pear of the big pawpaw
Have I given you a clue ?
The bare necessities of life will come to you
They'll come to you!
So just try and relax, yeah cool it
Fall apart in my backyard
'Cause let me tell you something little britches
If you act like that bee acts, uh uh
You're working too hard
And don't spend your time lookin' around
For something you want that can't be found
When you find out you can live without it
And go along not thinkin' about it
I'll tell you something true
The bare necessities of life will come to you
Look for the bare necessities
The simple bare necessities
Forget about your worries and your strife
I mean the bare necessities
That's why a bear can rest at ease
With just the bare necessities of life
The bare necessities of life will come to you
song performed by by Bowling For Soup
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
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Pears
Some say
it was a pear
Eve ate.
Why else the shape
of the womb,
or of the cello
Whose single song is grief
for the parent tree?
Why else the fruit itself
tawny and sweet
which your lover
over breakfast
lets go your pear-
shaped breast
to reach for?
poem by Linda Pastan
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Reservation For One
This is my tree, my tree, my tree,
My one lone tree, pear tree,
It grows, overflows, it grows it’s fruit,
Alone, only for me.
If I could go to a far-away place,
With just me and my tree, pear tree,
I’d pack my bags, my bags I’d pack,
I’d pick up my bags and flee.
There’s nothing at all, no nothing,
At all, that films me more with glee,
Than those globes, those globes,
Of precious fruit in my tree, pear tree.
I sit beneath, beneath I sit,
Its laden canopy, I polish it’s leafs then,
Set a table of fruits,
Of wine, and bread and brie.
This tree, my tree, could feed the world,
Find me a wife and camaraderie,
It’s powers, it’s powers are vast but I
Can’t pass on its secret sadly.
I’d tell the world, the world I’d tell,
If they weren’t all so hungry, you see.
But my fruit, my fruits, my laboured.
Fruits, I grew only for me, for me,
No none are as hungry as me.
poem by Suzanne Louise Bishop
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The Mountain Like A Lion
Windsor Seep was dry and covered
with pine cones and dirt; on hands and knees
I could never have extracted water
there for my barren tongue to lap.
The saddle, with deer plentiful
as pests, huddles my tent and me;
where I saw the spinning stars
against the towering twin peaks.
My boots were wired to my feet,
kicked by rocks and prickly pear,
whose fruit I'd had to eat
for the juice bound by a thousand neddles there.
Then, another night.
The winds of autumn howled down the peaks
like javelinas,
yet the mountain itself was a lion,
Looking me between the eyes,
then pouncing.
poem by Stan Petrovich
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Late Spring
The moon drained white by day
lifts from the hill
where the old pear-tree fallen in storm
springs up in blossom still.
Women believe in the moon:
this branch I hold
is not more white and still than she
whose flower is ages old,
and so I carry home
flowers from the pear
that makes such obstinate tokens still
for fruit it cannot bear.
poem by Judith Wright
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Kiwi
Fruit without a stone, its shiny
pulp is clear green. Inside, tiny
black microdot seeds. Skin
the color of khakiImagine
a shaggy brown-green pelt
that feels like felt.
It's oval, full-rounded, kind
of egg-shaped. The rind
comes off in strips
when peeled with the lips.
If ripe, full of juice,
melon-sweet, yet tart as goose-
berry almost. A translucent ring
of seed dots looks something
like a coin-slice of banana. Grown
in the tropics, some stone
fruits, overlarge, are queerly
formed. A slablike pit nearly
fills the mango. I
scrape the fibrous pulp off with my
teeth. That slick round ball
in avocado (fruit without juice) we call
alligator pear:
Plant this seedpit with care
on three toothpicks over a glass
of water. It can come to pass
in time, that you'll see
an entire avocado tree.
Some fruits have stones, some seeds.
Papaya's loaded with slimy black beads.
Some seem seedlesslike quince
(that makes your tastebuds wince.)
Persimmon will
be sour, astringent 'until
dead ripe,' they say. Behind
pomegranate's leathery rind,
is a sackful of moist rubies. Pear,
cantaloupe, grapefruit, guava keep their
seeds hidden, as do raspberry, strawberry,
pineapple. Plum, peach and cherry
we know as fruits with big
seedstones. And fig?
Its graininess is seed. Hard to believe
is prickly durian. It's custard
sweetand smells nasty.
But there's no fruit as tasty,
as odd, or as funny
none
as fresh-off-the-vine New Zea-
land kiwi.
poem by May Swenson
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The ripe pear
Quartering this ripe pear
- a knife-and-fork job; it gave little away
except a slight softness around the stalk,
yet seems to contain more juice than
any work of man could hold -
quartering this ripe pear,
I'm caught up in wonder:
this is almost too good for human beings -
it should have a religion built around its praise;
as if it wishes to tell us something
that we might have overlooked
about such mouth-worn phrases as
Nature's bounty and God's grace..
or as if, two thousand years ago,
it had leaned, heavy on its branch,
from the wall of Plato's leafy Academy,
saw him writing of ideals,
and smiled;
and now I've written that,
I can eat this pear,
tasting it and what I've written;
this pear, I swear,
now tastes even better;
as if I had submitted
on some altar, to be consumed by praise;
praise that tastes of pear; pear that tastes of praise.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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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)
The Idea Of 'Pear Tree
for Robin Blaser
a pear tree forgets only itself as
an audacity
limbs recall themselves
appear to reach
one cannot see them
reaching
they may be silent but
we cannot know that toward
later sweetness they yearn
then seed a still dirt around
content to lie down
the idea of 'pear tree'
reduces to all sparks
yet
no illusion of darkness
hastens the pear
but O it tastes
poem by Warren Falcon
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I walk next to the tomato beds
I walk next to the tomato beds
in our garden and here and there
are a few fig trees
which are covered with green swelling fruit
right against the main branches.
At the back in the corner and between the tomatoes
are rows of prickly pears
and look as if they have lost their thorns
but if you look carefully
the rows of thorns are still there.
You that I see as the flower
among my flowers
who are tender and soft hearted,
are now piercing the most
as the going away cuts through me
and staying apart, stays a terrible thing
but seeing each other again,
remains a wonderful
and yet every day
I see the fruit of you selfless love.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Pluck A Plum Where There Is No Tree
PLUCK A PLUM WHERE THERE IS NO TREE
God who freed
from fruit the seed
can pick a pear
from a baby tree.
God who sired
the hallowed fig
does harvest fruit
from a barren sprig.
God made blooms pastel
and bright fruits
and can a kumquat take
from a tree of quince.
Who made Pluto and
the Pleiades
can pluck a plum
where there is no tree.
================================ =====
(to Senator George Mitchell
.. tireless worker for peace
in America and Europe)
The Sanskrit word for the Wish
Fulfilling Tree is Asritakalpalateeka.
It is spoken of in Revelation.. the
tree with 12 kinds of fruit.)
poem by Saiom Shriver
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It Is Guaranteed
Eventually the root of a situation,
Bears the fruit,
Of what has been planted.
It may take longer,
Than something else seeded.
Something deeper intentionally done...
Without the acknowledgement,
Of the one who is to reap...
What another has sown.
That takes time on its own,
To shed upon it the truth of daylight!
In time a tainted harvest,
Crops to the surface.
For everyone to see...
What has been done to whom and when,
And why.
And if a provided taste does not correctly please...
A search to unearth this deed,
Will uncover the culprit!
Usually not too far...
From a fixation one has with weeds.
Discovered,
Delighting in the growth and appearance of it!
Eventually the root of a situation,
Bears the fruit,
Of what has been planted.
That is a given.
It is guaranteed!
Eventually.
Like a bad seed enjoying deceit fed.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Roots, Trees, and Fruits
A tree is known by its root
The source of its first life
A fruit is known by the tree
As a man is known through strife.
The root of a man is his family
The tree is the man that has grown-
The words that he writes in poetry
Show the rearing he has known.
-
Copyright Cynthia Buhain -Baello
July 6,2009 Tarlac City Philippines
--
'No good tree bears bad fruit, nor does a bad tree bear good fruit.
Each tree is recognized by own fruit.'
Luke 6: 43
poem by Cynthia Buhain-Baello
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12th Of Never Goin' Happen
.....Norwalk vigils
.........Spot...new...digs
. ..........Cast my cares to Sherlock
...Love...The...Electric...Line.. .Pigs
...Care...to...take...a...tu mble?
.....'Round...my...prickly..pear...and... thorny...weeds?
............Or..would...you..rather...rum ble?
...About...Homers Epic: ...And..Circes..poisnous...deeds?
..........Send...me...some..ambro sia
......To...find...out.....what.....i.. ..really.....mean
...And..if..you..get..lu cky..................(.Doubful!)
..............I....just........might..... come............................clean!
Sherlocks...a...good...Detective
He... spotted...the...other...pig...in...the...tree!
Dedicated to: The Greek Epic Poems Of Homer
Personally Dedicated to: H.O.W.
poem by Theodora Onken
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Bearing the Light
Rain-diamonds, this winter morning, embellish the tangle of unpruned pear-tree twigs; each solitaire, placed, it appearrs, with considered judgement, bears the light beneath the rifted clouds -- the indivisible shared out in endless abundance.
poem by Denise Levertov
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What you give to others bears fruit for yourself.