We ought to do good to others as simply as a horse runs, or a bee makes honey, or a vine bears grapes season after season without thinking of the grapes it has borne.
quote by Marcus Aurelius
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Love On The Vine
I came home yesterday
To the love that I left behind
It seems Ive been far away, yeah
But I know that the berrys ripe on the vine
And I know that the grapes will soon turn to wine
Yes I know Ill be there just in time to love you
I guess I just ran away (I just ran away)
Tried to see what I could not find (what I could not find)
Its been a one act play, yeah
But I know that the berrys ripe on the vine
And I know that the grapes will soon turn to wine
And I know Ill be there just in time to love you
Ive been wasting time (wasting time)
With this old heart of mine (this old heart of mine)
Working it overtime, ah, ah, ah, ah
Just another blue day
Like the ones that I left behind
I know its easy to say, yeah
But I know that the berrys ripe on the vine
And I know that the grapes will soon turn to wine
Yes I know Ill be there just in time to love you
Oh and I know that the berrys ripe on the vine
And I know that the grapes will soon turn to wine
Yes I know Ill be there just in time to love you
Love you on the vine, oh on the vine
Love you on the vine, oh on the vine
I love you on the vine, oh on the vine, ah
On the vine, oh on the vine ...
song performed by by America
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Diamonds In The Mine
The woman in blue, shes asking for revenge,
Man in white -- thats you -- says he has no friends.
The river is swollen up with rusty cans
And the trees are burning in your promised land.
And there are no letters in the mailbox,
And there are no grapes upon the vine,
And there are no chocolates in the boxes anymore,
And there are no diamonds in the mine.
Well, you tell me that your lover has a broken limb,
You say youre kind of restless now and its on account of him.
Well, I saw the man in question, it was just the other night,
He was eating up a lady where the lions and christians fight.
And there are no letters in the mailbox
And there are no grapes upon the vine,
And there are no chocolates in the boxes anymore,
And there are no diamonds in the mine.
(you tell them now)
Ah, there is no comfort in the covens of the witch,
Some very clever doctor went and sterilized the bitch,
And the only man of energy, yes the revolutions pride,
He trained a hundred women just to kill an unborn child.
And there are no letters in the mailbox,
Oh no, there are no, no grapes upon your vine,
And there are, there are no chocolates in your boxes anymore,
And there are no diamonds in your mine,
And there are no letters in the mailbox,
And there are no grapes upon the vine,
And there are no chocolates in your boxes anymore,
And there are no diamonds in your mine.
song performed by by Leonard Cohen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The vine bears three kinds of grapes: the first of pleasure, the second of intoxication, the third of disgust.
Foxes in My Vineyard
One fair even, at the eve of last summer,
In the green and fertile country fields
Where grew luscious ears of 'eschol' grapes
I lingered by the Ploughman's hedge
Held in glee as plush tendrils cloaked tall stakes
And far afield, an endless pleach of virid vines.
I sought to see the blest, plush plums
Sired by those lustful ears of vine
''Those too, ought be plummy plush'', thought i
For to strum of the grapes there borne i craved
But lo, the vines though lush, the grapes...? All gone!
I scarce could take it true
For harvest yet looms a distant far!
But who had wrought this spiteful deed,
And where had all the green grapes gone?
But soon lunged forth a fox for the brushes green
Twas meet to set my curious soul yet agrief.
And so mused i, how like this vineyard green
A many a fellow, squalor within, splendour without!
Bade bare by ravenous foxes lot
For whilst we shy behind swaddling folds at the blush of dawn
A vixen creepeth in the meadow without!
poem by Nwaga Philip
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I have some green grapes at their best
I have some green grapes at their best
And I am waiting for you to pass by
For these grapes are of such great taste
It is the truth so I swear and so I sigh
They were raised upon mountains high
where the wind softly blow
and a herd of wild horses feeds nigh
on tall grass blades rooted grow
So this is why my grapes are so sweet
The mountain spring by them lead
Tall reeds guard the gates
To keep out the ugly crow’s gait
Quietly my green grapes wait
For the clock sounds the hour late
What makes you hesitate?
What makes you not keep your date?
Therefore my grapes are so sad
And I am waiting not have gone yet to bed
But here I hear approaching steps from the south
My green grapes are full of hopes for your mouth
But still I am so lonely and sad
Since to bring flowers you forbade
May be next year you change your mind
And to my request you be more kind
And I will bring you flowers from the bowers
Wet with rain of rainbow showers
copy rights 2010
Tarantella - Sour Grapes
I admitted that I am utterly charming;
my specialty is to feed sour grapes,
to femmes causing a total disarming,
from this entrancing, none escapes.
After we jumped on the sand dunes,
and fighting against untamed sharks,
twas the hour of listening to tunes,
vented by an orbiting of love quarks.
I danced barefooted on the grapes,
on vigorous must-making tarantella,
thus I approached your curvy shapes,
hmm.. I knew your name was Stella! !
Was it not? While dancing I kissed,
those sour grapes you were holding,
and you insisted that I had to feed,
one by one the grapes on beholding.
What was that name; maybe Maria?
(stiff memory never helped my brain)
O, sour grapes! I called you Allegria,
singing Rossini's 'La Danza' refrain.
You stated you loved only the must,
your vine crown spelled 'Angioletta';
it did not? This loss made me aghast,
I thought Rossini called you Giulietta!
poem by Giorgio Veneto
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The Wine Of Love
We take a sip of the wine
that runs through our lives.
The wine of love most purest
that comes from the tenderest grapes
upon the vine.
We sip a little each day
praying it will never go away.
The wine of love
that runs through our lives each day.
Providing the vine doesn’t whither
our love will become fulfilled
with love forever after
our cup is empty and bare.
19 March 2008
poem by David Harris
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The Growing Season
The seasons work together
To make the world possible
Summer, the sun season
Fall, the leaf season
Winter, the snow season
And spring, the time of beauty
Summer, the yellow season
Fall, the orange season
Winter, the white season
And spring, the time of the rainbow
Summer, the blank season
Fall, the shadow season
Winter, the dying season
And spring, the growing season
The growing season
Are They Real?
Your grapes are so real
I can smell it from here.
Your grapes are so real,
I can almost taste it from here.
Your grapes are so real,
I reach out to touch it from here,
Really? I'm not sure they are not real.
A Water Melon's Truth
Roving back through wild centuries
At rust and ripeness time
To land blood wet, martyrs fed,
A water melon still conceives
What alone bears peace-a sweet heart,
Summer's blood, timber scent-
Each slice for life time sweet,
Munch you as you would grapes or kisses.
Her only hope, wish for nothing on earth
Save eternal be her internal love's season,
Akin to sea plain where no autumn comes,
Though all things go, not one lasts.
poem by Yoonoos Peerbocus
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Sonnet: Jesus, the Grape-Vine
“I am the Vine: You be its branch always.”
Jesus is succor and our nourishment;
Allow the sap to flow to bless your days;
There will be no defeat or punishment.
’Tis easy being branch with leaves and fruits;
We help the vine to grow luxuriously;
The starch that’s made makes sturdy trunk and roots;
The wine from grapes will soothe hearts curiously.
A broken branch will lose its life quite soon;
A leafless one is useless to the vine;
A fruitless one is bane and not a boon;
With God, we make our earthly days divine.
The vine is proud to make the best of wine;
With God’s will done, man’s soul looks rather fine!
poem by John Celes
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I Just Know What I Like
What makes you think you've been invited,
To tingle up and down my spine?
What makes you think candlelight and wine,
Does the trick?
Or that soft music, grapes...
And frankenscense,
Will curl my toes?
Hmmm?
I 'spose you gon' say you psychic?
Or sumthin' cuning.
Like you're a honey?
And I'm gonna get stung!
Hmmm?
Now you better not bring sharp cheddar cheese,
In here!
OR, I'll just have to...
'I like mine extra sharp.
With slices of pepperoni.'
What makes you think you've been invited,
To tingle up and down my spine?
What makes you think candlelight and wine,
Does the trick?
Or that soft music, grapes...
And frankenscense,
Will curl my toes?
Hmmm?
You psychic?
'No!
Not one bit!
I just know what I like.
And from 'whom' to get it.'
Oh...
I'm your 'whom'.
I'll be your 'who' too!
Since you've got this like you do.
'I just know what I like.
And from 'whom' to get it.
That's all I need to know,
About you.
It aint no mystery.'
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Green Grapes
I have some green grapes at their best
And I am waiting for you to pass by
For these grapes are of such great taste
It is the truth so I swear and so I sigh
They were raised upon mountains high
where the wind softly murmur and blow
And a herd of wild horses feeds nigh
On tall grass blades rooted grow
So this is why my grapes are so sweet
The mountain spring by them lead
Tall reeds guard the fenced gates
To keep out the ugly crow’s gait
Quietly my green grapes wait
For the clock sounds the hour late
What makes you hesitate?
What makes you not keep your date?
Therefore my green grapes with me are so sad
And I am waiting not have gone yet to bed
If you only give your saint like smile in a glance
My face will be covered with happy countenance
But here I hear approaching steps from the south
My green grapes are full of hopes for your mouth
But still I am so lonely and sad
Since to bring flowers you forbade
May be next year you change your mind
And to my request you be more kind
And I will bring you flowers from the bowers
Wet with rain of rainbow showers
A flimsy fancy flattered my mind
Yet again it seemed overbold
If you can just love me for a while short
I always consider you gentle and kind
But sometimes you are remote and cold
May be my approaches are too bold
And most hurtful are your scorns
Sharp and fierce worse than a thousand thorns
Alas, I hear no more sound where I stand
But the rivulet on from the lawn
Running down to the wood sand
And my fear like an evil feeling drawn
My hopes diminished that you eat my green grapes
And feel my pangs and heart aches
This is why I keep talking to my green grapes
So one day you feel my pains and shakes
So please be kind and rethink again
And let me bring you flowers from the plain
Flowers are so much nicer and have various scents
Although green grapes are my dear loyal friends
copy rights 2010
I've been into the habit of freezing white grapes and using them as a snack. Instead of eating peanuts or popcorn or something like that or pretzels, I just eat the white grapes.
quote by Mike Ditka
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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In the hearts and minds of the people, the grapes of wrath were growing heavy for the vintage.
John Steinbeck in The Grapes of Wrath
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The vine brings forth three grapes: the first of pleasure, the second of drunkenness, the third of sorrow.
Zorba
The tears are hiding behind
the corners of his eyes,
welling but held at bay.
The days are swelling
like the dead porpoise
shot in the head.
Rarely...meaning so much...
from love to good steak,
to your streak of good luck.
And I dreamed Zorba the Greek
said to me, 'If you eat grapes
you're left with the stems.
I'm left with the days of my life
and the grapes have all gone down
And all I have left
are seeds and stems.
poem by Midnights Voice
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A frustrated street vendor
An apple seller pushes his cart towards home
And the sale is very low as everybody asks grapes.
The other day when he brought grapes,
They query about apples.
Selling fruits is very hard nowadays and he muttered himself; ' Next time I must take sedatives and drag their pockets.'
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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