The Custard Apple
It hung so near the trunk of the tree,
And stayed unnoticed for a long time,
Hidden by a leafy canopy,
And growing bigger than most others!
It was not scorched by the noon-time sun,
Nor wetted by the lashing rains,
Or shaken by the winds that howl,
But was over-fed in mother's way!
I plucked it off lest someone stole
Or wood-peckers come make a hole,
And parrots beak it up like nuts,
Leaving its empty rind hanging!
I wrapped the fruit in a plastic bag,
And thought it would ripen very soon;
Alas! The fruit never ripened at all,
Remaining green and looking fresh!
It was as hard as granite stone;
It did not dry or change color;
It stayed that way when kept outside,
But never ripened any day!
I pondered what could have happened
Preventing the fruit from ripening;
‘There is a time for everything,
And when a fruit ripens! ' - says the Bible.
Yet, human beings find new ways
Of doing things unnaturally;
Nevertheless, they hardly win;
But Mother Nature does better!
Man's knowledge and experience fails
In every field and every sphere;
The Nature, God created stays
Unraveled, unrivaled winner always.
Copyright by Dr John Celes 10-10-2012
poem by John Celes
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Related quotes
Sonnet: Nature's The Best
That fruit tastes best which ripens while on tree;
The one ripened by artifice ain't good;
The one also rip’ning prematurely;
A natural time is needed, bud to fruit.
The ways that Nature shows are ideal;
We ought to just copy the same from her;
And when we do, the joy is so real;
What secrets she awaits to share, Mother.
The ken of man is great without a doubt;
'Tis best for him to follow Nature's course;
Like how plants best from seeds do tend to sprout,
The wiser man, unnatural things doesn't force.
Our work or sleep, 'tis best in Nature's lap;
It is so good if it be just a nap!
poem by John Celes
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Sonnet: Some Things Will Happen
Who can prevent the fury of Nature?
Who can prevent the clouds from raining down?
Who can prevent God’s pre-destined future?
Who can prevent the artiste turning clown?
Who stops a fruit from ripening in less days?
Who stops the ripened fruit from falling down?
Who stops a seed from sprouting in one place?
Who stops the grass from being daily mown?
Some things in Nature happen so early;
Some things in Nature fail to happen right;
Some things in Nature happen finally;
Who brings the clouds that block the good Moonlight?
There is a time for death and every birth;
There is a time for everything on earth.
poem by John Celes
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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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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)
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
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Sonnet-Nature's The Best
The child with milestones normal is the best;
The child that gets parental love grows well;
The teeth that timely erupt grow, strongest;
The good man from the bad, genes, time will tell.
The fruit thats ripe on tree does taste the best;
One ripened artificially isn't that good;
The child that learns naturally performs best;
That cooked in earthenware's the tastiest food.
God -given breeze is what most men prefer;
Air-conditioned has its demerits sure;
That Natural things are best, we all infer;
For Man is too a part of God's Nature.
Respect Nature and Earth will remain green;
And keep soul pure when life will be serene.
poem by John Celes
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Nature Is The Destiny Maker: Boo, Boo, Cried Bobby - A Barmy Head!
Nature is full of unraveled mysteries, cultures and histories;
Nature is full of flowing rills with growing thrills - oh human joker!
Nature nurtures dreams of utility by shaping your personality,
Yahoo! Nature is full of beautiful colors and heaven sent flowers
Nature is the destiny maker, boo, boo, cried Bobby – a barmy head!
Holy smoke, holy cow! Oh, little mackerel! Nature has ethereal power.
Papal tree and papaya fruit, coconut and grape fruit for you
Banyan tree and banana fruit, Almond tree apple fruit for you
Even if you are lost in thoughts futile – don’t worry – oh, lawbreaker!
Nature instills hope with an eternal source utile – be merry.
Nature is the destiny maker, boo, boo, cried Bobby – a barmy head!
Holy smoke, holy cow! Oh, little mackerel! Nature has ethereal power.
Blue Sky, white clouds, yellow stars are there for you,
Moon’s twilight and sun’s delight is for you and me,
Be a bird watcher and be with nature, oh, you and me!
Go and bow in front of rainbow, rain is for you and me.
Nature is the destiny maker, boo, boo, cried Bobby – a barmy head!
Holy smoke, holy cow! Oh, little mackerel! Nature has ethereal power.
poem by Harindhar Reddy
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Once Upon A Time...
once upon a time
the sky bloomed
with stars guiding
once upon a time
there were rains
at the appointed time
once upon a time
the moonlight spread
evenly on all terrains
once upon a time
the flowers blossomed
the trees bore fruit
and everything in plenty
once upon a time
the earth moved on its axis
the way it should
now
when stars are hardly sighted
now
when there's no moonlight visible
now
when all we know are cyclonic storms
now
when we rarely get to see a flower smiling
now
when we eat fruit synthetically ripened
now
when the earth keeps jolting on its axis
will any believe my once upon a story?
30jul2010
14.00hrs
poem by Indira Babbellapati
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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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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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The Divine Tree
In my mind I see perched upon a rocky hill
Standing firm a silhouetted tree so strong and still
Its roots extend well below the turf
Reaching deep to the centre of the earth
Its sprawling branches stretch in a canopy above
High into the sky to heaven where there’s much love
This tree is magical and a symbol for us to see
As it bears fruit, good things given by divinity
Of love compassion, peace and self awareness
To visualise the tree is a privilege I confess
But all can see if they search enough
Even though the mist at times make viability tough
The wind of your thought in its branches whisper through
And brings forth its fruit for those that stay true
And if sometimes when you try to climb to its branches on high
When life seems touch and you really have to try
The branch it may break and then you may fall
But the tree will still stand it stays there for us all
And then you must try once again you see
Each time you get further higher in the great tree
And each time you make a higher ascent
You get higher into its canopy to Heaven sent
Near Non-sense Poem
When Michael Jackson did his debut,
A Donkey cried, 'Ho, Hee, I can do much better, pal! '
And I'm more child-friendly too,
So, children tie an empty tin to my tail and I run with fright,
Faster than the hare!
Just then an Wood-pecker, walked upwards a drumstick-tree
And pecked a hole in a trice with a few quick shots of his pointed beak,
And said, 'pea-nuts, who can do better than me? '
And flew onto the Cherry-tree.
And Jimi Hendrix eating pop-corn,
Was working on his key-board on his lap,
No, my buttocks hurt when I sit so long,
trying to concoct a new number!
So does my stomach too with the cheesecake, fruit-loops,
Crabs, Apple-juice and Sphagetti-O's!
And my ears hurt by the Amplifier noise,
Take revenge on me by destroying my sleep!
The Bumble-bee that buzzed past by
had a deja-vu after sucking on the glue!
'Happy flamingo, 'he said, 'With all my experience,
This is much better than a cream-pie! '
But no one cared about Weiner, the villain,
Admitted in the General-ward
of a Hospital with an abdominal binder,
Except for eleven Flying purple Monkeys
Who popped through the window
And stole away his bat-mobile,
finding nothing to eat near-by!
Copyright by Dr John Celes 12-05-2004
(a contest poem based on an array of unrelated words)
poem by John Celes
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Fruit Tree
Fame is but a fruit tree
So very unsound.
It can never flourish
Till its stalk is in the ground.
So men of fame
Can never find a way
Till time has flown
Far from their dying day.
Forgotten while youre here
Remembered for a while
A much updated ruin
From a much outdated style.
Life is but a memory
Happened long ago.
Theatre full of sadness
For a long forgotten show.
Seems so easy
Just to let it go on by
Till you stop and wonder
Why you never wondered why.
Safe in the womb
Of an everlasting night
You find the darkness can
Give the brightest light.
Safe in your place deep in the earth
Thats when theyll know what you were really worth.
Forgotten while youre here
Remembered for a while
A much updated ruin
From a much outdated style.
Fame is but a fruit tree
So very unsound.
It can never flourish
Till its stalk is in the ground.
So men of fame
Can never find a way
Till time has flown
Far from their dying day.
Fruit tree, fruit tree
No-one knows you but the rain and the air.
Dont you worry
Theyll stand and stare when youre gone.
Fruit tree, fruit tree
Open your eyes to another year.
Theyll all know
That you were here when youre gone.
song performed by by Nick Drake
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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At Last, the Lime-Tree Bears Fruits!
A lime sapling I found grew up in wild,
In ten years’ time to be a tree quite big;
For long it stayed dwarf-like: refused to grow,
As caterpillars ate its verdure leaves.
And not a flower or a fruit it bore!
Insects built nests and spiders spun cob-webs;
Its roots stood ’midst gravel and rocky mud;
Red-ants made home till ant-powder was put.
How sad it was to see the lime-tree’s fate!
The rain and sun nurtured it despite odds;
And one day when I stared at her foliage,
Amazed I’as to see it covered by fruits!
There is a time for everything on earth;
‘There is a season for all things, ’ God says;
The keys to success- patience and strong faith;
God will decide when all things fruition best.
One never knows when God uses someone;
One never knows when God does miracles;
One never should look down upon others;
God has a plan for everything He makes!
Copyright by Dr John Celes 4-11-2006
poem by John Celes
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With The Quandongs
IF you happen to visit the Western Plains
When the summer is young and green,
You can see the green of the quandong leaves
With the quandong fruit between.
The fruit is the size of a plum, perhaps,
And red as your own blood's hue;
And it falls to the ground at the touch of the wind
Like a drop of crimson dew.
The wide plains lie with half-shut eyes
At peace in a golden swoon,
And the lizards drink their full of rest
Abask in the drowsy noon.
There is only the whir of a wing, perchance,
To startle the sleeping lands;
But the quandong trees, all green and red,
Are a-twinkle with little hands.
Oh, many a tress has turned to grey,
And many a song grown mute
Since Rita and Meg and Trixie and I
Went gathering quandong fruit.
And there we were on the plains alone
In the hush of a drowsy air —
Rita and Meg with roguish eyes
And Trixie with wayward hair.
A far mirage of mingled sun and dream
Was born of the noontide sleep,
And the rifled fruit of the quandongs lay
At our feet in a ruddy heap.
I know that the quandong's burning fruit
Still reddens the drowsy air;
That Trixie is grown and sometime wed,
And Rita is grave and fair.
I know that Meg of the roguish eyes,
Though ten long years be sped,
Still plucks the fruit of the quandong trees
When the quandong fruit is red.
I know — and I know to my loss, alas! —
That I stand where the winds blow cold,
And search, with others, another tree
For its scanty fruit of gold.
poem by Roderic Quinn
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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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Lessons from a Woodpecker
The woodpecker will not give up,
Until the hole it planned is made!
It walks upon the trunk upside,
Its clawed feet holding bark firmly!
It pecks and pecks while turning head;
It bangs and drums upon the tree;
It hammers, chisels, saws and files,
The sharp beak digging circularly!
The pecking actions cause echoes
In air surrounding bird on tree;
With great a force, it pecks each time,
But does not mind feeling giddy!
It pecks and pecks as wood chips fly;
The bristly tongue helps it to clear;
The beak keeps hitting edge of hole,
As head of bird, then goes deeper!
It takes a month to make a hole!
The woodpecker will not give up;
It comes back to the hole each day,
And deepens it some more, some way!
The woodpecker has taught me how
Hard labor, perseverance clicks;
And lo! The nest is filled with love,
As noisy cries come from new chicks!
Yes, Mother Nature teaches all,
Such golden lessons for no fee;
Oh, listen to her daily call;
Success will smile on you, may be!
When one has aimed to do something,
Come in the way, don’t let a thing;
Work till the job is fully done;
Nothing in life, you leave half-done!
Copyright by Dr John Celes 1-15-2010
poem by John Celes
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The Barberry-Bush
The bush that has most briers and bitter fruit
Waits till the frost has turned its green leaves red,
Its sweetened berries will thy palate suit,
And thou mayst find e'en there a homely bread;
Upon the hills of Salem scattered wide,
Their yellow blossoms gain the eye in Spring;
And straggling e'en upon the turnpike's side,
Their ripened branches to your hand they bring;
I've plucked them oft in boyhood's early hour,
That then I gave such name, and thought it true;
But now I know that other fruit as sour,
Grows on what now thou callst Me and You;
Yet wilt thou wait the autumn that I see,
Will sweeter taste than these red berries be.
poem by Jones Very
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The Tree Of Knowledge
I PLUCKED the blossoms of delight
In many a wood and many a field,
I made a garland fair and bright
As any gardens yield.
But when I sought the living tree
To make new earth and Heaven new,
I found--alas for you and me--
Its roots were set in you.
Oh, dear my garden, where the fruit
Of lovely knowledge sweetly springs,
How jealously you guard the root
Of all enlightening things!
poem by Edith Nesbit
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