Wasps In A Garden
The wall-trees are laden with fruit;
The grape, and the plum, and the pear,
The peach and the nectarine, to suit
Every taste, in abundance are there.
Yet all are not welcome to taste
These kind bounties of Nature; for one
From her open-spread table must haste
To make room for a more favoured son:
As that wasp will soon sadly perceive,
Who has feasted awhile on a plum;
And, his thirst thinking now to relieve,
For a sweet liquid draught he is come.
He peeps in the narrow-mouthed glass,
Which depends from a branch of the tree;
He ventures to creep down,-alas!
To be drowned in that delicate sea.
'Ah say,' my dear friend, 'is it right
These glass bottles are hung upon trees?
Midst a scene of inviting delight
Should we find such mementos as these?'
'From such sights,' said my friend, 'we may draw
A lesson, for look at that bee;
Compared with the wasp which you saw,
He will teach us what we ought to be.
'He in safety industriously plies
His sweet honest work all the day,
Then home with his earnings he flies;
Nor in thieving his time wastes away.'-
'O hush, nor with fables deceive,'
I replied, 'which, though pretty, can ne'er
Make me cease for that insect to grieve,
Who in agony still does appear.
'If a simile ever you need,
You are welcome to make a wasp do;
But you ne'er should mix fiction indeed
With things that are serious and true.'
poem by Charles Lamb
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Related quotes
The Lemon's Quest
The whole of the fruit world were assembled
to hear what the lemon had to say.
In anticipation the fruit sat and trembled,
would it be the lemon’s day?
“Why can’t there be a sweet tasting lemon? ”
Said lemon in a tone of revolt.
To the fruit world this was open rebellion
and had to be brought to a halt.
The atmosphere turned sour towards lemon,
as he said, “This is not a lot to ask,
it’s a reasonable enough question,
and I’m sure not a major task.
I cannot understand your objections
about a fruit that wants to progress.
I’m open to all and any suggestions,
but until then I’ll sit and digress.”
The avocado replied to the question,
“The lemon is bitter and that is that! ”
“That’s an unfounded objection, ” said lemon.
“It maybe, ” said the Chairman, “but it is a matter of fact.”
The language was now strong and offensive,
as Chairman Plum called out for restraint,
“Order, fruit please, we must not be derisive.”
The tangerine looked likely to faint.
Chairman Plum summed up with a speech,
“This raises many questions for all nations, ”
he was then rudely interrupted by the peach,
“Just think about the complications? ”
A voice shouted from the back of the room,
it was grape with an answer to the problem,
“A sweet lemon must have its own bloom,
without it there will be no conclusion.
The answer is simply, graft and propagation,
a vine, with a lemon tree shoot.
It’s straight forward and without complication,
and should produce a sweet lemon fruit.”
The assembly calmed and became much quieter;
grape was thanked for his solution.
The outlook was now decidedly brighter,
bringing an end to the lemon’s resolution.
The lemon looked across at the chairman
and asked if there were any one with doubt.
The avocado said, “Yes, you give me indigestion, ”
“Out of order, ” said plum, “cut it out! ”
“All those in favour say aye, ” said plum.
“Then the ayes win the vote gentlemen.
We now await a fruitful outcome,
and this assembly is adjourned until then.”
One year later
On the grafted lemon tree a fruit appeared,
but the colour didn’t quite look right.
The lemon was fighting back his tears,
as the grape suggested more light.
Two weeks later
“What beauty of yellow and blue, ” said plum,
“It must be time to judge the taste, ” said grape.
“Why, it’s delicious and sweet; a job well done,
we must have a drink to celebrate.”
Three weeks later
At the next assembly, Lemon beamed with happiness
and announced the success of the new taste.
The avocado said, “I don’t wish to spoil your party,
but aren’t you celebrating in haste?
A lemon is a lemon and will be forever just a lemon,
a beautiful smelling fruit with a taste that's bitter!
I sincerely hope that you have learned your lesson,
a lemon no, but a new fruit that tastes much better.
So with this sweet new fruit I congratulate your success,
but lemon, please don’t try to be what you are not,
you’re famous for your aroma and countless other uses,
so be happy with what you’ve got.”
poem by Orlando Belo
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My Silent Undoing
my silent undoing
my silent undoing
my silent undoing
my silent undoing
my wasp in a jar
protruding hips
and skull, and spine
ribcage cuts a clear outline
oh, oh
all roped up and pinching in
distorted and disfiguring
oh, oh
my silent undoing
my silent undoing
my wasp in a jar
no photographs around the back
emaciated, iron flat
oh, oh
dehydrated cutting bones
today i'm over 7 stone
oh, oh
my wasp in a jar
my wasp in a jar
my wasp in a jar
twinkle little star
my wasp in a jar.
song performed by by Queen Adreena
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Plum's Destiny
A little plum dropped from the tree
and struck a frog upon his knee.
The frog did hurt and cried a lot
the plum said Oops, I plum forgot.
Which wasn't altogether true
you see a plum is always blue
a frog however must be green
thus he can easily be seen.
So, folks, it truly stands to reason
that in the Fall, the ripening season
a bit of care would be advised
that way a frog is not surprised.
In any case, the knee did swell
the plum just stayed right where it fell,
so in an effort now to heal
the frog fell for the plum appeal.
He grabbed the plum and opened wide
the plum prepared for its last ride.
And said before it was too late
a plum is to be eaten, mate.
So, you can see that those that fall
from trees or buildings, big and tall
will usually just fail to see
the maker of their destiny.
poem by Herbert Nehrlich
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Homophobia
A teenager roams in my friend's area
who walks like a girl and my friend's wife hates him.
'Must be a Gay' she emphasized.
The next door lives an old man
A bachelor; the boy goes there to exchange books.
He used to whistle always in a peculiar manner
when he pass my friend's place
and she gave him a nickname 'Marina'.
'I heard that he is a feminist & a Freemason
who fights for your equal rights, isn't it?
so, you must respect him'.
he told his wife
and she replied angrily' hey! my liberal wasp!
why you make such a fuss of him? '.
To my dearest friend Denis.Joe
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Taste It
Yes its me
I am the one
To make you see
Where we belong
I was shaking
Like a leaf
All wrapped up
In my dirty sheets
If I agree
To what comes next
I would be faking
With the best of them
It seems a crime
I would commit
Without the difference
Of all the worlds gifts
Sweet sweet sweet
Could you taste it
Never never never
Never never never
Taste it
To dream
All the time
Without a scream
In the dead of night
All those faces
Come back to me
Ill be begging
To swim that sea
Yes I made
A picture story
Make you cry
In all your glory
A need to quench
The thirst of many
To justify
And make ready
Sweet sweet sweet
Could you taste it
This realization
Owes us strength to show
If youre uncertain
Youre invited to believe
These are the words I speak
These are the words I speak
A dislocation
]from where we once came from
Give sons and daughters
Because we want to go on
These are the words she speaks
These are the words she speaks
Sweet sweet sweet
Could you taste it
song performed by by INXS
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Bird Sanctuary
Between the cliff-rise and the beach
A slip of emerald I own;
With fig and olive, almond, peach,
cherry and plum-tree overgrown;
Glad-watered by a crystal spring
That carols through the silver night,
And populous with birds who sing
Gay madrigals for my delight.
Some merchants fain would buy my land
To build a stately pleasure dome.
Poor fools! they cannot understand
how pricelessly it is my home!
So luminous with living wings,
So musical with feathered joy . . .
Not for all pleasure fortune brings,
Would I such ecstasy destroy.
A thousand birds are in my grove,
Melodious from morn to night;
My fruit trees are their treasure trove,
Their happiness is my delight.
And through the sweet and shining days
They know their lover and their friend;
So I will shield in peace and praise
My innocents unto the end.
poem by Robert William Service
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Impossibilities: To His Friend
My faithful friend, if you can see
The fruit to grow up, or the tree;
If you can see the colour come
Into the blushing pear or plum;
If you can see the water grow
To cakes of ice, or flakes of snow;
If you can see that drop of rain
Lost in the wild sea once again;
If you can see how dreams do creep
Into the brain by easy sleep:--
--Then there is hope that you may see
Her love me once, who now hates me.
poem by Robert Herrick
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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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Law
Laws, as we read in ancient sages,
Have been like cobwebs in all ages.
Cobwebs for little flies are spread,
And laws for little folks are made;
But if an insect of renown,
Hornet or beetle, wasp or drone,
Be caught in quest of sport or plunder,
The flimsy fetter flies in sunder.
poem by James Beattie
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On Seeing Tawny Frogmouths
At nightfall the birds known as tawny frogmouth come out in family groups of three or four
They do not have a song the only sounds they do make is a sort of a low pitched nasal snore
In the wooded parkland they fly from tree to tree in their search for tree insects and flies
And they return to roost on their roosting trees at the dawning just before sunrise,
Quite expert at camouflage in their colours of brown lengthwise on a bare branch of a tree
In the bright light of day they look part of the branch they are almost impossible to see
Disguised from the prying eyes of predators in safety they rest Nature never ceases to amaze
Of her so little we do seem to know we are strangers to Nature's ways,
Related to the nightgars nocturnal insect eating birds though frogmouths far greater in size
For better vision in dimlight the night birds 'twould seem than day birds have far larger eyes,
I have seen the frogmouths at nightfall in the park near my home almost tame to them I approached near
Of human kind so little they seem to know so of humans they show little fear,
From tree to tree in the parkland they fly these quiet brown birds of the night
So well camouflaged on their bare roosting branch they seem part of the tree in daylight.
poem by Francis Duggan
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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
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Bodies in Alignment
The wasp watches me
As I stare at it
Pensive with tweezers
Of academic esquire
That this derelicts of nature
Small brother in absentia
Should be compelled to wonder
The sedimentary escritoire
On top terrestrial ink blots
Perpendicular to my pen
For I should be alarmed
While caustically anxious
At the dagger protruding
From its cutting underbelly
But I am not afraid
Simply curious
That this Striped yellow jacket
Walking leagues across in inches
By a whisker to my eye sight
Should stop so near the wall
Of my left seated arm
Pink and inviting
It could easily pierce
The delicate dermis
Cracking it like a priceless Ming vase
Sending agony and pain
Of supernatural killer
But I know it won't
For we share the same void
Trapped in the nectar
Perusing dead end endeavours
Occupational uncertainty
For a life we are born
Inside internment camp choices
Yes we are the same
Underneath fluorescent sunlight
Of the 40 watt bulb
Weaving X ray inspections
Of our insectoid forms
Human and free, human and chainged
Now we are dressed in a vest
Of assimilating conscience
Mutating, Coalescing
A Hybrid prenuptial
Investiture
Of one
Into one
Bodies in alignment
I stair at the wasp
but its already me
poem by Kevin Patrick
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Kindness to Insects
I saw a Melancholy Wasp
Upon a Purple Clover Knosp,
Who wept, 'The Poets do me Wrong,
Excluding me from Noble Song-
Though Pure am I and Wholly Crimeless-
Because, they say, my Name is Rhymeless!
Oh, had I but been born a Bee,
With Heaps of Words to Rhyme with me,
I should not want for Panegyrics
In Sonnets, Epics, Odes and Lyrics!
Will no one free me from the Curse
That bars my Race from Lofty Verse?'
'My Friend, that Little Thing I'll care for
At once,' said I- and that is wherefore
So tenderly I set that Wasp
Upon a Purple Clover Knosp.
poem by Arthur Guiterman
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Valentine
Too high, too high to pluck
My heart shall swing.
A fruit no bee shall suck,
No wasp shall sting.
If on some night of cold
It falls to ground
In apple-leaves of gold
I'll wrap it round.
And I shall seal it up
With spice and salt,
In a carven silver cup,
In a deep vault.
Before my eyes are blind
And my lips mute,
I must eat core and rind
Of that same fruit.
Before my heart is dust
By the end of all,
Eat it I must, I must
Were it bitter gall.
But I shall keep it sweet
By some strange art;
Wild honey I shall eat
When I eat my heart.
O honey cool and chaste
As clover's breath!
Sweet Heaven I shall taste
Before my death.
poem by Elinor Morton Wylie
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Wasp Sting
A diabolic deed:
A pebble I pelted
At the hanging shelter
On the stem of plantain cluster:
Vengeance vapours; war clouds.
A smart wasp dared;
Sting of sting; I writhed:
Smouldering compunction;
Pricking tension;
I rubbed red forehead mine.
As a balloon tiny,
Blown with atrocity,
My forehead swelled:
Pang resolved
Never to trespass the insect kingdom.
A big foe retreated;
An act self pledged
For the wasp hamlet:
An act, we bewail, rusted in our hamlet,
Exposed to self absorption.
poem by Fabiyas M V
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Wasps!
I’m walking home, along the road,
Carrying my shopping; a heavy load.
I hear a buzzing sound right by my ear,
And my whole body fills with fear.
Without even looking, I know what is there.
I’m afraid that it will get caught in my hair.
I stand there stock still and totally freeze;
I’m terrified of wasps, but don’t mind bees.
A frown appears upon my face and I pray,
That this worrying wasp, will soon go way.
Soon, he loses interest and gets off my case,
But, even so, I purposefully quicken my pace.
The wasp disappears and I’m on my own again,
Thankful that, on me, he didn’t inflict any pain.
To date, I’ve been lucky and haven’t been stung,
But I’m so totally dreading my first ever one.
Freezing on the spot has worked for me so far,
And has managed to keep me from any harm.
When a wasp approaches, my shoulders hunch.
Needless to say, I’m not a fan of ‘al fresco’ lunch!
Some people wave their arms and go ‘shoo! ’
But, I know this is the worst thing they can do.
Of wasps, I’ve always been so totally terrified,
And it’s a fear, which is extremely hard to hide.
A wilful wasp flying around in search of food,
Can, in a heartbeat, suddenly change my mood.
Bees, unlike wasps, are useful and earn their worth,
But what is the actual purpose of wasps on the earth?
They just annoy people to the point of distraction;
Where there’s a wasp, there’s often some action!
I’m really not their biggest fan, and I really think
I’d be more than happy, if they became extinct!
poem by Angela Wybrow
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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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Joy and Pleasure
Now, joy is born of parents poor,
And pleasure of our richer kind;
Though pleasure's free, she cannot sing
As sweet a song as joy confined.
Pleasure's a Moth, that sleeps by day
And dances by false glare at night;
But Joy's a Butterfly, that loves
To spread its wings in Nature's light.
Joy's like a Bee that gently sucks
Away on blossoms its sweet hour;
But pleasure's like a greedy Wasp,
That plums and cherries would devour.
Joy's like a Lark that lives alone,
Whose ties are very strong, though few;
But Pleasure like a Cuckoo roams,
Makes much acquaintance, no friends true.
Joy from her heart doth sing at home,
With little care if others hear;
But pleasure then is cold and dumb,
And sings and laughs with strangers near.
poem by William Henry Davies
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Sonnet 82: Nymph Of The Garden
Nymph of the garden where all beauties be,
Beauties which do in excellency pass
His who till death look'd in a wat'ry glass,
Or hers, whom naked the Trojan boy did see;
Sweet garden nymph, which keeps the cherry tree
Whose fruit doth far th'Hesperian taste surpass;
Most sweet-fair, most fair-sweet, do not alas,
From coming near those cherries banish me:
For though full of desire, empty of wit,
Admitted late by your best-graced Grace,
I caught at one of them a hungry bit,
Pardon that fault. Once more grant me the place
And I do swear e'en by the same delight,
I will but kiss, I never more will bite.
poem by Philip Sidney
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Friends
Just sit yourself down friend
Pull up a chair friend
There aint nobody here friend
But the people you need
Roll yourself a joint friend
Empty your head friend
Make yourself at home friend
This is where you belong
Chorus:
Put your feet up on the fire
If it makes you feel much better
Have a glass of homegrown wine
Dont you think it tastes fine
Tear you away friend
On a planet to space friend
Faster than you can think friend
Youll be there before you know
(agnew, charlton, mccafferty, sweet)
Mountain music/carlin music
1972 nazareth (dunfermline) ltd.
song performed by by Nazareth
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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