My heart is heavy
My heart is heavy with many a song
Like ripe fruit bearing down the tree,
But I can never give you one --
My songs do not belong to me.
Yet in the evening, in the dusk
When moths go to and fro,
In the gray hour if the fruit has fallen,
Take it, no one will know.
poem by Sara Teasdale
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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My heart is heavy with fruits of love
My heart is heavy with fruits of love
Like clusters of ripe pomegranate fruit bearing down
The canopy branches of the tree
But I can never give you one from above
It is waxed and sweetened by the full sun as jewels crown
The fruits of my love do not belong to me; they are not free
Yet in the evening, at dusk twilight, I dare entreat you to hide low
When bats chase moths encircling wandering in lights glow
Under the crimson dusk skies’ pall
A fruit from the tree may slip and fall
And when in the gray hour it drops as lust’s prey
Would you take it? Hence no one will ever know or say
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All rights reserved
That you have abandoned all will and strife
That you have abandoned all will and strife
Discard any other activity which implies getting on with life
You do not want to break away forfeiting any bail
And you are punishing yourself, putting yourself in jail
put yourself in some kind of curfew under powerful bolt
put life and the world around in complete halt
Until yourself will give you what yourself has taken away from you.....
All in the name of this precarious love so divine and dear in your view
It melt you down as dawn stars are melt in blue
And all other suitors you disdain discarding so many
It raises doubt if you ever find true love with any
Your heart is always heavy for him with fruits of love
Like clusters of ripe pomegranate fruit bearing down
The canopy branches of the tree
But you never intend to give him one from above
It is waxed and sweetened by the full sun as jewels crown
The fruits of our love are subject to your status; they are not free
On the other side of the wall
He the fox is waiting for your fruit to fall
He knows this tree will shed its fruits
It always did, it ever will whenever ripe its shoots
Punctually by the season queue.
December, followed by May all season thru
And then on evening time, at dusk twilight, this fox dares to hide low
As bats chase moths encircling wandering in lights glow
Under summer night night with crimson skies’ pall
The emotional muscles ware out and a fruit from the tree may fall
And when in the gray hour it drops as lust’s prey
The fox feeds fiercely on its flesh, no one will ever know or say
As for me in all of this...
My work is done closed in uneasy halt
This heath, this strange calm and quiet scene
The memory of what has been
And never more will be
But it will ever live with me
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All rights reserved
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 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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Tree And The Branch
the tree looks
upon a branch
where a ripe
fruit is hanging
the tree says
it is mine
the branch say
i am holding it
the tree says
the branch too
belongs to it
angry about the
tree's greed
the branch lets go off
the ripe fruit
a hungry child
picks it up
and goes home
with a happy heart
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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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So Little Of Nature
It first dawned on me at least five decades ago
That so little of Nature I do seem to know
New lessons from Nature I learn every day
Yet from me she does hide her secrets away
The beauty of Nature to look at is free
The blossoms in Spring on the fruit bearing tree
Each blossom one day to a ripe fruit does grow
So little of Nature I do seem to know
The boy of the fifties has grown old and gray
And the clock on our lives it keeps ticking away
To the father of time we eventually bow
And though I've been a student of Nature for many years now
Our Earth Mother keeps all of her secrets from me
Though her beauty to look at for everyone free.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sonnet LXXXII: Hoarded Joy
I said: “Nay, pluck not,—let the first fruit be:
Even as thou sayest, it is sweet and red,
But let it ripen still. The tree's bent head
Sees in the stream its own fecundity
And bides the day of fulness. Shall not we
At the sun's hour that day possess the shade,
And claim our fruit before its ripeness fade,
And eat it from the branch and praise the tree?”
I say: “Alas! our fruit hath wooed the sun
Too long,—'tis fallen and floats adown the stream.
Lo, the last clusters! Pluck them every one,
And let us sup with summer; ere the gleam
Of autumn set the year's pent sorrow free,
And the woods wail like echoes from the sea.”
poem by Dante Gabriel Rossetti
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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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For Those Who Grieve
no one
no one can really stop you
from eating the bark of the tree
the thick skin of the
fruit
no one can tell you what should have
been proper
or better
you like the skin and you throw away
the fruit that could have
satisfied your
thirst and hunger
the bark has poisoned you
the moon has warned you too well
the worm is wriggling
its frail and elongated
body
you have no ears
your sense of smell so badly damaged
and now you
are dying
no one tells you that life is as sweet
as the ripe fruit of the tree
that luscious flesh that flowing
juice
your gaze is sharp as a knife
stabbing even the
sun
and you are always right
what you have been searching
that can satisfy your hunger and thirst
is not found on the fruit
not even in the tree
it is in the poisonous bark
that useless skin
that silly coat
definitely it is not even here
where we are all grieving
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Flowers in the Background
Flowers in the background
Old times in gray and white
Life songs turning around
In their all and different light
Deems of melodies slow
The timbres in hour’s mood
As they turn on and then go
In taste of its beauties fruit
You were singing of yesterday
Once close to days here
Through windows coming play
In memories from everywhere
You gave your song to me
In dreams of your pleasures
Something that flowed on free
And now the time treasures
With sunglasses in tomorrow
Ahead of today’s now song
Each beat in simplicity borrow
To move on and get along
I saw you in my lyric book
And I heard your voice humming
Like corners in life streets look
Of sideways blooms blossoming
Flowers in the background
Old times in gray and white
Life songs turning around
In their all and different light
Deems of melodies slow
The timbres in hour’s mood
As they turn on and then go
In taste of its beauties fruit
*To this picture: http: //www.flickr.com/photos/peter_s_quinn/3969850923/
poem by Peter S. Quinn
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Eden No More
Oh why dose the
Teardrops fall
From above
It mourns the loss
Of Eden no more
Man and wife
The creator did make
In his own image
A miracle of love
Hand in hand
They nurtured the land
That God gave to thee
For prosperity
Amongst the beauty
The garden of life
There laden a tree
Baring the fruit
Of knowledge and life
One simple rule
That he gave to thee
Thou shalt not
Taste the forbidden fruit
From the apple tree
But alas there lived
Amongst the fruit
Of the tree of life
A fallen angel
That tempted mans wife
He convinced the maiden
To take one simple bite
One simple bite
That changed the rest
Of her life
The texture was crisp
And it tasted so sweet
A forbidden fruit
That was divine
To the taste
Its taste so sweet
She needed
To share the
Divinity that
Had fallen from
The apple tree
Said fallen to Eve
Take heed of my word
He will love you evermore
If you share this divinity with thee
Believing it to be so
Young Eve did show
Her husband the tender
Fruit from yon tree
The fallen just smirked
At how easy to sow
The seeds that will
Embellish mans fate
In the page's of time and history
poem by Kaila George
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Upon The Barren Fig-Tree In God's Vineyard
What, barren here! in this so good a soil?
The sight of this doth make God's heart recoil
From giving thee his blessing; barren tree,
Bear fruit, or else thine end will cursed be!
Art thou not planted by the water-side?
Know'st not thy Lord by fruit is glorified?
The sentence is, Cut down the barren tree:
Bear fruit, or else thine end will cursed be.
Hast thou been digg'd about and dunged too,
Will neither patience nor yet dressing do?
The executioner is come, O tree,
Bear fruit, or else thine end will cursed be!
He that about thy roots takes pains to dig,
Would, if on thee were found but one good fig,
Preserve thee from the axe: but, barren tree,
Bear fruit, or else thy end will cursed be!
The utmost end of patience is at hand,
'Tis much if thou much longer here doth stand.
O cumber-ground, thou art a barren tree.
Bear fruit, or else thine end will cursed be!
Thy standing nor they name will help at all;
When fruitful trees are spared, thou must fall.
The axe is laid unto thy roots, O tree!
Bear fruit, or else thine end will cursed be.
poem by John Bunyan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I
Bid me and I shall gather my fruits to bring them in full baskets
into your courtyard, though some are lost and some not ripe.
For the season grows heavy with its fulness, and there is a
plaintive shepherd's pipe in the shade.
Bid me and I shall set sail on the river.
The March wind is fretful, fretting the languid waves into
murmurs.
The garden has yielded its all, and in the weary hour of evening
the call comes from your house on the shore in the sunset.
poem by Rabindranath Tagore from Fruit-Gathering (1916)
Submitted by Silvia Velea
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The Phenomenology Of Giving
when you give you give because your heart likes it
your abundance flows from a container filled with so much
you give because having so much is also painful
the tree with many fruits too ripe for the season
gives them all away to the ground
the passers-by shall pick them
and have their thirst and hunger satisfied
the tree gives because there is no more reason for holding
the stalk gives up the weight that it is carrying
the tree has to shed leaves for another cycle
when the picker comes, the tree does not ask who is it
or for the reason why, whether it deserves it
it merely lets go every fruit
lest it be its own burden
for in truth giving away is also a form of relief
a cure of our maladies for greed,
a way of unloading our guilt
a way of erasing our avarice,
the final end to our disgrace.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Who I am
Grandma Kasan, has the Bali citrus fruit tree
Their fruits was very luxuriant
Unfortunately with-him, Day And Night
after she made the Palm Fruit Charcoal
Always the road observed the her loves citrus fruit
because of being not again child
and the grandchild in her big house
when the night, I pass away
was carried by Old brother
under the citrus tree
that already ripe
around the little path
close my house
get its with my hand
when the grandmother fell asleep
and then I could eat citroes
when at the afternoon I ask her
to have her fruits not permitted
such was juvenile delinquency
when I older we to like children
that wanted to win ourself
the developing process of life
that always
repetitions
Who I am
when the others
gone
left me
alone
in the quiet home
poem by Prasetya Utama
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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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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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In the Fruit and Veg
Knocking you listen
to the sound
that a watermelon makes
to test if it is ripe
and I wipe the smile form my face,
trying to look sincere
and the whole of Fruit and Veg is filled
with shoppers, adoring ripe fruit and vegetables
crowding around some places with special offers
like a great vast congregation
gathered in the temple of a god
and tonight you will again
make your great fruit salad
with chopped and sliced mangoes,
papaw, sweet melon, some squeezed orange juice
and grapes
and maybe this afternoon
we will eat the watermelon
in the shade next to the swimming pool.
poem by Gert Strydom
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