Those that eat cherries with great persons shall have their eyes squirted out with the stones.
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They who eat cherries with the great, are like to have the stones and stalks flung in their face.
It is dangerous to eat cherries with the great, they throw the stones at your head.
It is not good to eat cherries from the same dish with persons of high rank.
Treasure for joy
Need two persons,
Mummy and daddy,
the result is me;
Need two persons,
My grandparents,
to take care of me;
Need two persons,
Child specialist and family physician,
to look after my health;
Need two persons,
My loving teachers,
to teach me manners;
Need two persons,
My sincere friends,
for play and pastime;
Time has come,
A good job has come,
A happy companion has come;
A beautiful wife to share my life,
We have two children, a girl and boy,
They are our treasure for joy.
poem by V.K. Kanniappan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Wise Advice
If persons do not want to change for good,
Advise them if you can, sometimes;
If persons are recalcitrant in mood,
Try advising them in some better climes!
If persons do not listen or pay heed,
Ignore their misdemeanor, if you can;
If persons appear to be ‘blind’ indeed,
Just watch them from a farther distance, man.
If persons are too adamant to change,
Leave them to change the hard way, if they must;
If persons are in ‘impossible’ range,
Leave them to God or let them bite the dust!
Copyright by Dr John Celes 2-8-2010
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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There Is A Garden In Her Face
There is a garden in her face
Where roses and white lilies grow;
A heav'nly paradise is that place
Wherein all pleasant fruits do flow.
There cherries grow which none may buy,
Till 'Cherry ripe' themselves do cry.
Those cherries fairly do enclose
Of orient pearl a double row,
Which when her lovely laughter shows,
They look like rose-buds fill'd with snow;
Yet them nor peer nor prince can buy,
Till 'Cherry ripe' themselves do cry.
Her eyes like angels watch them still,
Her brows like bended bows do stand,
Threat'ning with piercing frowns to kill
All that attempt with eye or hand
Those sacred cherries to come nigh,
Till 'Cherry ripe' themselves do cry.
poem by Thomas Campion
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There is a Garden in Her Face
There is a garden in her face
Where roses and white lilies grow;
A heav'nly paradise is that place
Wherein all pleasant fruits do flow.
There cherries grow which none may buy
Till "Cherry-ripe" themselves do cry.
Those cherries fairly do enclose
Of orient pearl a double row,
Which when her lovely laughter shows,
They look like rose-buds filled with snow;
Yet them nor peer nor prince can buy,
Till "Cherry-ripe" themselves do cry.
Her eyes like angels watch them still;
Her brows like bended bows do stand,
Threat'ning with piercing frowns to kill
All that attempt, with eye or hand
Those sacred cherries to come nigh
Till "Cherry-ripe" themselves do cry.
poem by Thomas Champion (1619)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Love Amidst Squalor
He opened his eyes
And saw the squalor around,
Glistened his eyelids,
He shed it without a sound.
For months he was afloat
In the dark warm bay,
Waiting to arrive here
To live love and play!
She smiled as he cried,
Happy to see him land,
Life squirted from her bosom,
She could die just for his hand.
Yet as he opened his eyes
He saw only squalor around,
Her love couldn't hold him back,
His eyes closed without a sound!
poem by Pradip Chattopadhyay
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Cherry-Ripe
THERE is a garden in her face
Where roses and white lilies blow;
A heavenly paradise is that place,
Wherein all pleasant fruits do flow:
There cherries grow which none may buy
Till 'Cherry-ripe' themselves do cry.
Those cherries fairly do enclose
Of orient pearl a double row,
Which when her lovely laughter shows,
They look like rose-buds fill'd with snow;
Yet them nor peer nor prince can buy
Till 'Cherry-ripe' themselves do cry.
Her eyes like angels watch them still;
Her brows like bended bows do stand,
Threat'ning with piercing frowns to kill
All that attempt with eye or hand
Those sacred cherries to come nigh,
Till 'Cherry-ripe' themselves do cry.
poem by Thomas Campion
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Thoughts While Watching A Still Painting Of Pears And Cherries
upon a tray
are the still orange pears
below are the three cherries
and the wilting leaves
i like the way the pears'
way of seducing me into biting it
the cherries compete with
the enticement
the leaves wilt with envy
and here i am watching and not
even allowed to touch anything
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Air is a Root
The air is a root.
The stones are filled with tenderness. bravo.
bravo. the stones are filled with air.
the stones are watery branches.
on the stones replacing the mouth
grows the skeleton of a leaf. bravo.
A stone voice face to face and foot to foot
with a stone glance.
the stones are tormented like flesh
the stones are clouds for their second
nature dances to them on their third nose.
bravo. bravo.
when the stones scratch themselves, nails grow
on the roots. bravo. bravo.
the stones woke to eat the exact
hour
Stones
Stones
Stones would play inside her head
And where she slept,
They made her bed
And she would ache
For love and get but stones
La la la la la la la la la
Lordy, child
A good days comin
And Ill be there to let the sun in
And bein lost
Is worth the comin home
La la la la la la la la la on stones
You and me, a time for planting
You and me, a harvest granting
The every prayer ever prayed
For just two wild flowers that grow
La la la la la la la la la on stones
Mmmmmmmm.....
song performed by by Neil Diamond
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Pot Pourri of Personalities
I see some persons laughing all the time;
They wear a mask of artificial smiles;
Their tongues are smooth and eyes are deceptive;
They boast of living prudently and wise!
They mock at righteous and sincere persons;
They joke and give evasive replies oft;
Their blunders go undetected for long;
They sow the seed of discord amongst men!
And some are spick and span, overly too,
Their body odors by perfumes, well hid;
They weep a tear for some in grief at times;
They trust their toil and do not believe God!
But do they lament within heart always?
They cannot hide their nature real, long;
God knows these persons cheating world at large;
His rod of justice stern, awaits such men.
Copyright by Dr John Celes 3-29-2008
poem by John Celes
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My Persons
My person
My person
My
Brother and sister
Persons
You and we and
Us and all
Lets go row
Row
Row row wheel
We'll row
The wheel
Everyone belongs
In a hall
Of all of
Names belong
To things
Of queens
And kings
And priests
And
My persons
My brother
And sister
Persons
poem by Deci Hernandez
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When we see persons of worth, we should think of equaling them; when we see persons of a contrary character, we should turn inwards and examine ourselves.
Prowess Is The Highest Quality For Great Men
Valour is the ability
to show the individual's strength
to control external enemies;
Prowess is the highest quality for great men
who can easily control internal enemies
like lust in self;
Such great men will not show interest
in other women, others' wives;
This quality is not only the virtue of these great men,
but also a great discipline of noble persons. (ThirukkuRaL 148)
poem by V.K. Kanniappan
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You must see the persons who are in charge - persons you can punish or vote for.
quote by Joschka Fischer
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Of The Visage Of Things
OF the visages of things--And of piercing through to the accepted
hells beneath;
Of ugliness--To me there is just as much in it as there is in
beauty--And now the ugliness of human beings is acceptable to
me;
Of detected persons--To me, detected persons are not, in any respect,
worse than undetected persons--and are not in any respect worse
than I am myself;
Of criminals--To me, any judge, or any juror, is equally criminal--
and any reputable person is also--and the President is also.
poem by Walt Whitman
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Chocolate Cherries Is Much Safer?
she told me eating
chocolate cherries
is much safer
perhaps I prefer
getting drunk drinking
in alcohol sour cherries
drinking the second
the third one would
love to share
artists might define
this drinking
as frustration eating
how quickly spirit
frustration times
slip away passing
Dedicated to Miroslava Odalovic.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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