Fruit And Nutter
I know some of my poems can be a bit absurd.
All you have to do is look at who writes them
he is a bit absurd too.
Anyone who plays Cowboys and Indians
at the age of sixty something
has to be a bit of a fruit and nutter.
However, saying all that
I really play Preachers and Indians
with a couple of sermons
thrown in for good measure.
They gave me the tag of Dodgy Dave,
the wife says it is because I dodge the Hoover,
but it’s because everyone thinks
I’m a bit of a fruit and nutter.
I stumble over my own sermons
and get locked up in jail for that
especially when I cannot read
what I’ve just written.
I have weird sense of humour
and all you have to do is ask my friends about that.
I have a saying
if you don’t come to my church,
my church will come to you
when you’re not looking.
When friends see me with a wicked grin
they know there’s a gag a foot
so they run and hide
and I wonder why.
What do I care
I’m just a fruit and nutter
and having a lot of fun with that.
11 September 2009
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
The ambulance outside.
Can you see that ambulance outside?
I suppose you wonder what it doing there?
Bet you think what's the nutter done now?
She's a right one her.
Thats what they all think.
She's an attention seeker and she's nuts.
It's what everybody thinks about me.
But if you look into my eyes.
You'll see a life time of pain.
The smile I wore was a disguise.
So what's that ambulance doing outside?
The nutter slashed her arms.
She killed her self.
So that ambulance outside,
Has come to take the nutter away.
poem by Amy Louise Kerswell
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A New Imagine (21st Century)
Imagine there’s no Internet
It’s alright, please don't cry
No comments for us
It’s all Pie in the sky
Imagine all the surfers
Nowt to do all day
Imagine no computers
It’s not easy for you
No Microsoft, or Windows
No Googling too
Imagine all the bloggers
Having inner peace
You might think I’m a nutter
But wait until I’m all done
You could enjoy all of this
And maybe have lots more fun
Imagine no more Tesco’s
No food out of a can
No shopping centre’s either
All living off the land
Imagine all the bloggers
Farming for their food
You might think I’m a nutter
Now that I’m nearly all done
I hope you have enjoyed this
And we can all live as one
poem by Gordon David
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A Big Kid At Heart
Some say that I am
a big kid at heart,
and maybe they could well be right.
I love my cuddly toys,
as I am six going on five.
I even go away at weekends
to play cowboys and Indians.
In my case,
it is Preachers and Indians.
Yes, it could be quite possible
I am a big kid at heart.
19 February 2008
poem by David Harris
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Healthy fruit - Guava!
While I entered into my kitchen,
The aroma of a nice fruit pierced my nose!
It gave an euphoria to my sense,
O' It is a smell of Guava!
Yellow in color,
Ripened in nature,
It invited me to eat
and taste;
I took the fruit in my hand,
I took the knife too kept aside,
I cut the fruit gently with care,
into pieces of four;
I tasted the fruit, Guava,
It was yummy yummy,
Very tasty and yummy,
Healthy fruit - Guava!
poem by V.K. Kanniappan
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Backside Of Thirty
They say when you reach
the backside of thirty;
a midlife crisis looms in the air.
Midlife crisis!
Now what the hell is that?
Is it like the flu,
or a summer cold?
If it is, then I had mine,
When I got married
So many years ago.
So what happens?
When you reach the backside of forty.
Is it another midlife crisis,
or are you over the hill there?
Don’t ask me, I don’t know.
A government official once told me,
At the age of forty,
I was too far gone for repair.
That I was on the downward stretch.
Well here I am at sixty two,
and I’ve seen the backside of fifty.
But who really cares?
Your as young as you feel,
and I still feel like a little kid.
I go away at weekend
and play cowboys and Indians,
but in my case it is vicars and Indians
that’s why they call me Dodgy Dave.
Who cares if I’m a blatant fool,
I’m enjoying my life while I got it.
My advise to you,
is when you hit the backside of thirty,
you do the same as I do.
Act a little crazy,
and enjoy everyday you got.
13 June 2007
poem by David Harris
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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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Before my grandpa built his own church, we went to the neighboring town, and it was a white community. You know, up north, mostly middle European people and Indians, Chippewa Indians. We were welcome to that church, but once we got in, they didn't know what to do with us.
quote by James Earl Jones
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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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Between '89 and '93 I was a wild child, a real nutter.
quote by Rhona Mitra
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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How I Became Known As Dodgy Dave
From time to time people ask me
how I got the name Dodgy Dave
and why I take no offence at it.
The story starts about six or seven years ago
when I joined a Western Re-Enactment Society.
I went to help build a western town
that eventually became know as Deadwood.
As the date for near completion came
the only building left to be finished was the Church.
The original builders had left it only half built.
The owner of the farm
on which the town is built
wanted it finished for our grand opening day.
Someone suggested that because of all the help,
I had given, why I don’t take it on
and they would help me finish it,
but I needed a town name
that would go along with the building,
I thought for a moment and then said
what about Reverend Mr Black
after the old Kingston Trio song.
So for a couple of years
I became known as Rev. Mr Black.
Two of my friends Buck and Caroline
(better know to one and all as Caz)
were planning their wedding.
They were going to have an official ceremony
on the Friday and on the Saturday;
they were to have another wedding in the town.
They asked if I would marry them in the town ceremony.
I told them I would be honoured.
Caz then went around telling everyone,
family and friends
that Dodgy Dave the vicar was going to marry them,
but he isn’t dodgy,
it’s just my pet name for him.
Soon everybody started calling me Dodgy Dave.
However, with every nice story
somehow sadness always intervenes.
Six weeks before their wedding,
this pretty woman who had renamed me Dodgy Dave
died at the tender age of thirty.
We held a wake for her in the town
on the day she and Buck were to marry.
It was a sad affair,
but her memory remains with me
every time someone calls me Dodgy Dave.
There are so many memories attached to that name.
It was never given out of malice,
but out of friendship sincere.
Now the name Dodgy Dave
has become very dear to me.
I use it all the time,
because when I do it reminds me
of the young woman with fair hair
whose friendship I treasured so
and I never want to let the memory of her go.
So there you have it
the story behind the christening
of me to Dodgy Dave
11 March 2008
poem by David Harris
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However Absurd
Ears twitch, like a dog, breaking eggs in a dish.
Do not mock me when I say this is not a lie.
Its funny thing, half serious, with our hands on our ears.
Living dreams with mouths ajar, wide awake, we go to sleep.
However absurd, however absurd... it may seem.
However absurd, however absurd... it may seem.
Something special between us, when we mmade love the game was over.
I couldnt say the words, words wouldnt get ny feelings through,
So I keep talking to you...
However absurd, however absurd... it may seem.
However absurd, however absurd... it may seem.
Custom made dinosaurs, too late now, for a change.
Everything is under the sun, but nothing is for keeps...
However absurd, however absurd... it may seem.
However absurd, however absurd... it may seem.
song performed by by Paul McCartney
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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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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)
We’re Indians First and Lastly!
We’re Indians firstly!
And that’s the way, we’re known all o’er the globe;
And that is what we tell the world around;
This is our primary identity.
We’re Indians firstly!
We may belong to any state by birth;
Then come our language, creed, community;
We’re Indians primarily!
We’re Indians firstly!
United are we by the tricolor;
The soil is one, though states be many;
We’re Indians basically!
We’re proud of our rich our Indian heritage;
Our thirst is quenched by rivers of India;
Our hunger is appeased by crops grown here;
We’re Indians first and ultimately!
Let none dare try to sow seeds of discord;
The Indian’s free to live in any state;
When asked, let always be our reply,
‘We’re Indians firstly!
God gave one sun and moon to all of us;
We live under the sky, our common roof;
We enjoy freedom got by same ‘Struggle’!
We’re Indians all, firstly!
We’re Indians firstly!
Our patriotism is Indianness;
Our pride’s in being born as Indians;
We’re Indians first and lastly!
All Indians are our brothers and sisters;
We love our fellowmen as our brethren;
Same blood of oneness flows within us all;
We’re Indians first, always, ultimately!
‘Jai Hind! Jai Bharat! Jai bharatiya! Jai bharatvaasi!
Copyright by Dr John Celes 6-2-2010
poem by John Celes
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Alankar (Decor) -24
Some Sijo Poems
1 The Wedded
Knotting around the blazing, I mean the augural holy fire
Evident of tangles, holy rice splattered to mean a blest knot
Couple play tug of war-'he or she', folks round in eccentric watch
2 Sale
Fallen fruit stolen, stolen fruit fallen-tasted and thrown away
Putrid heart noted, a passerby shouts 'dead sale, dead sale'repulsed
Sale is over.Learn the lesson darling girls of no more a stink
poem by Indira Renganathan
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My Best Friends
For JoAnn and Meggie
There are two young ladies
I think of as my best friends.
If ever I have a problem
that was eating away at me
I could go to either of them
and they would comfort me.
I’d do the same for them
at anytime night or day.
Not only are they my best friends,
they are my writing partners in poetry
when we write under
JoJo Bean, Dodgy Dave and Meggie Gultiano.
Although we have never met
as each of us live thousands of miles away,
they are still my best friends.
Some may never understand
why I say that at all,
they may even argue that statement
saying how can you be best friends
with people you have never met.
I’d reply just look at the poetry
we have together written
it speaks of three writing together with one voice,
of friendship with a deep loving bond for one another.
Therefore, when I say they are my best friends
I say that with sincerity,
and my words come from my heart.
Therefore, ladies now you know
just what you mean to me
and I want the whole world
to see and understand
that best friends can live anywhere
even in far off distant lands.
Friendships hold no boundaries
and are not restricted by what we are.
The key is how you feel
towards every one of them.
I have been lucky in having many friends
of many religions, nationalities and creeds,
but JoAnn and Meggie are my best friends,
and I know it will always stay that way.
Thank you ladies
for always being there for me.
David aka Dodgy Dave
9 February 2008
poem by David Harris
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Welcome To the Madhouse (Fun Poem 108)
Welcome to the madhouse
where bigger nuts come in
and are promoted when they stay.
Their ideas are outrageous
bordering on the ridiculous
but they are taken up anyway.
Welcome to the madhouse
they never turn a nutter away
the more ludicrous your ideas
the more they like it here.
Some of our charges
have been voted into Parliament,
some have even received
a gong from the Queen.
Welcome to the madhouse
we never turn a nutcase away.
26 August 2009
poem by David Harris
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A Seed Within
what are you going to do?
he might ask
are you going to wait
are you going to wait
for the seed to take root
bloom and bear fruit
leave it to me
he might say
i will give you the fruit in a capsule
you give me your seed...why toil
he would ploy
A FRUIT IN A CAPSULE IS'NT A FRUIT AT ALL
The path too is a joy
the growth too is a joy
from the seed to the fruit
a spiritual share is a joy too
the giver and the taker share the joy
if it was a share
which gave you joy
how can you use it
as a ploy
poem by Samanyan Lakshminarayanan
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An Allure Fruits
bats are back
their fruit trees in fruit
forgotten fruit not
poem by Terence George Craddock
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I like fruit baskets because it gives you the ability to mail someone a piece of fruit without appearing insane. Like, if someone just mailed you an apple you'd be like, 'huh? What the hell is this?' But if it's in a fruit basket you're like, 'this is nice!'
quote by Demetri Martin
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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