Simple Observation #5 - Fruit that's ripe is..........
Fruit that’s ripe is easily picked from a tree
but things which are forbidden are not free.
poem by George Krokos
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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
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Forbidden Fruit
Oscar brown jr
Eve and adam had a garden everything was great
Till one day a boy says pardon miss my name is snake
See that apple over yonder if youll take a bite
You and adam both are bound to have some fun tonight
Go on and eat forbidden fruit
Its mighty sweet forbidden fruit
Its quite a treat forbidden fruit
Go ahead and taste it you dont wanna waste it
The lord had said in the beginning everything is free
Except that apple that leads to sinning so let that apple be
But eve got tempted so she tried it and as all chicks do
Teaser her man till he decided hed just try some too
Go on and eat forbidden fruit
Its mighty sweet forbidden fruit
Its quite a treat forbidden fruit
Go ahead and bite it I bet youd be delighted
I hate to tell you all what followed the lord was most upset
Saw them making love and hollered what have you to add
And when they made a full confession the lord said hm I see
I guess Ill have to teach you a lesson about not minding me
Go on and eat forbidden fruit
Its mighty sweet forbidden fruit
Its quite a treat forbidden fruit
Youre all indebted now you gonna get it
The lord made eve adams madam have his kids and all
Placed some labour laws on adam and he made the snake to fall
Ever since the days of eden folks been sinful my
Nowadays theyre even eating apples in their pie
Go on and eat forbidden fruit
Its mighty sweet forbidden fruit
Its quite a treat forbidden fruit
Go ahead and taste it you dont wanna waste it
Oh go ahead and bite it I bet youd be delighted
You always did it now youll gonna get it
Forbidden fruit
song performed by by Nina Simone
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Forbidden Fruit
Sometimes fruit
is forbidden
one must
look
away.
Like Eve in the
garden
forbidden
fruit
on
display.
Little did she
know
the price
she
would pay.
Forbidden fruit
forever
sometimes
dreams
go
astray.
poem by Heather Burns
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Forbidden Fruit
all the forbidden fruit I ever
dreamt of--or was taught to
resist and fear--ripens and
blossoms under the palms of my
hands as they uncover and explore
you--and in the most secret
corners of my heart as it discovers
and adores you--the forbidden fruit
of forgiveness--the forbidden fruit
of finally feeling the happiness
you were afraid you didn't deserve--
the forbidden fruit of my life's labor
--the just payment I have avoided
since my father taught me how--
the forbidden fruit of the secret
language of our survivors' souls as
they unfold each others secret
ballots--the ones where we voted
for our first secret desires to come
true--there's so much more
I want to say to you--but for
the first time in my life I'm at
a loss for words--because
(I understand at last)
I don't need them
to be heard by you.
Submitted by Venus
poem by Michael Lally
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Busheled Together
See those apples hanging ripe,
All yet to fall...
From that one tree.
Even though they appear,
To look the same...
If one should examine closer,
Each would have a unique and distinct...
Quality.
Although on that one tree,
One may declare...
Them to have similar identities.
Upon tasting from those apples picked,
One will come to a core...
With seeds inside of it.
And delicious is a sweetness,
When the juice is licked.
But when busheled together from that one tree,
Some may have blemishes.
While others upon inspection may be blemish free.
And all of them have been witnessed,
To be the product of the same tree.
See those apples hanging ripe,
All yet to fall...
From that one tree.
Even though they appear,
To look the same...
If one should examine closer,
Each would have a unique and distinct...
Quality.
And when busheled together,
They are all apples.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Blackberry Picking
I have fond memories of going blackberrying
On Sundays, with my Dad, when I was a child.
Situated on the very outskirts of our little town,
The lane was long and winding, lonely and wild.
We worked our way along the prickly hedgerows,
Plucking perfect fruit from amongst the brambles,
But the berries, which were over ripe or under ripe,
Were left behind by us, during our country rambles.
We picked plenty of plump, juicy berries,
And popped them all in to our plastic pot.
Dad seemed to know the very best time to go,
So we always returned home with quite a lot.
Along the way, we spotted spiders in their webs;
Of spiders, I have always been a little scared.
So any fruit which was located round about,
Was more than welcome to stay right there!
The blackberries were taken home to Mum,
Who mixed them up with apples, inside a pie.
I always felt a small sense of pride, as we ate
Those blackberries, picked by my Dad and I.
poem by Angela Wybrow
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Too Raw To Eat
Picked over like a piece of meat
Nibbled and a little bit uneasy
Difficult it is to please
Somebody who prefers
The taste of cake
Without the cheese
Picked over like forbidden fruit
From a garden stomped over with people
I want to be the one who leaves
A deliciousness to tease
But I've been regarded
Too raw to eat.
Picked over like a piece of meat
Nibbled and a little bit uneasy
Difficult it is to please
Somebody who prefers
The taste of cake
Without the cheese
Picked over like forbidden fruit
From a garden stomped over with people
I want to be the one who leaves
A deliciousness to tease
But I've been regarded
Too raw to eat
Picked over like a piece of meat
But I've been regarded
Too raw to eat
Picked over like a piece of meat
But I've been regarded
Too raw to eat
Picked over like a piece of meat
But I have been regarded
Too raw to eat
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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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
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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
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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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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
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From gods To Dust
As hideous as the Witch of Endor,
he came on a beautiful splendor.
As ignorance as a child,
she accepted the tide.
Virtuous as holy truth,
truthful as a knight of old.
With her heart wide as hope,
she ate of the forbidden fruit.
Then came her other half
telling him of the good tide.
About how God had lied.
About how she had eating
and yet still alive.
As voiceless as the tomb,
speechless as a stone.
As tuneless as a bag of wool,
unhappy as King Lear.
He ate the fruit of the
tree that have always been
there and forbidden.
And there eyes were opened.
From gods to dust,
They Fell.
poem by Enebeli Ifyprada
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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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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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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
Copy rights 2010
All rights reserved
Forbidden fruit
tree of knowledge
i am the tree
and the fruits
yours to pick
praise and glory
yours to keep
much better
for me to stand
each leaf my gratitude
to you in helping me shine
the fruits they are
your success
i stand in your honour
in your praise
and dance to your plan
forbidden apple
it is in the sacred
corner of our hearts
the everlasting eden
sanctuary you share with us
yes the snake though
keeps slither
between us
lying that your fruit
is my own fruit
my own achievement
mine to keep and eat
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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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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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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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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Fruits Of Waste
food waste
one country
say old Italy
800 million tonnes
of fruit picked sold
from fruit trees
750 million tones
left to rot
never picked
every year
why
not increase
efficiency?
poem by Terence George Craddock
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