The Jackfruit
I am like a jackfruit on the tree.
To taste you must plug me quick, while fresh:
the skin rough, the pulp thick, yes,
but oh, I warn you against touching --
the rich juice will gush and stain your hands
Translated by Nguyen Ngoc Bich
Anonymous submission.
poem by Ho Xuan Huong
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Related quotes
The lemon
I pick a ripe yellow lemon from the tree,
the children, even the dog imitates me
and when I warn them to eat it up
the two boys draw up their lips
from its sour taste, the brown Labrador complies,
eating right through the skin,
but will never again eat such a thing
and my picking of it is no sacrament,
to offer to the gods
not even a thieving thing
as that tree with green leaves and thorns
belongs to me
and I am not doing it
to apply as medicine with honey in a drink
but lemon juice in my mother’s pudding treat
is an essential thing
in the mix of biscuits, condense milk and custard.
poem by Gert Strydom
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On The Margins Of A Poem
The poem
that I chose for you
is simple,
as are all my singing poems.
It has the trace of a veil,
a little balsam,
and a taste of the honey
of lies.
There is also
the coming end of summer
when heat scorches the meadow
and the quick waters
of the river
cease to flow.
Anonymous Submission
poem by Jirí Mordechai Langer
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Never
never does the fruit of the tree
ask when we pick it to satisfy
our hunger why we must deserve
each sap each juice each pulp
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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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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Tree by Smritirekha Bhuyan (Translated from Assamese)
Tree by Smritirekha Bhuyan (Translated from Assamese)
I had tried to become a tree.
When I was young my parents had told me
It is absolutely necessary to become a tree,
They still hope that I should be
As patient, as innocent, and as submissive as a tree.
Trees change their raiment in Winters and Summers;
They turn Yellow from Green
As per the the season's taste.
But unlike humans their souls do not change;
Even in their old age the leaves are humble, polite, and energetic.
Matching beats with the breeze
They sway and paint the world red.
(Although) there is no lack of effort on my part
It is very difficult to become a tree
Perhaps I can never be…
(Translated with permission)
poem by Syed Ahmed Shah
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I Need To Feel You Near
Do you stay with a craving...
That is a hunger for me?
And,
Is this...
Just more than a 'fling'?
And is it...
More than midnight 'thing',
Between...
You.and me,
To be?
Is it...
Just more than a 'fling'?
And is this...
More than midnight 'thing',
Between...
You.and me?
Do you stay,
With a hunger for me?
And...
Do you crave,
A taste to treat to feed,
From me...
Everyday?
Or...
Is this,
What I hope to see?
I'm the one who needs you...
Breathing on me.
And...
Touching my skin.
with a warmth that never ends.
And....
Am I the one who needs you,
More than I'm wishing...
You wont let go once you know.
Do you crave,
A tasty treat from me everyday?
And do you....
Stay with a hunger this way,
Just for me.
Do you stay with a craving...
That is hunger for me?
And,
Is this...
More than a midnight 'thing'.
'Cause....
I need to feel,
You touching me.
And I need to feel,
You breathing...
On my skin.
I need to feel,
You touching me.
And I need to feel,
You breathing.
And...
On my skin.
I need to feel you near and breathing...
On my skin.
I need to feel your touching to breathe,
On my skin.
I need to feel you touching,
On my skin.
I need to know that feeling here,
Next to me.
I need to know it and to have it here,
Next to me.
Next to me.
Next to me,
I need to know it and to have it here...
Next to me.
I need to know it with you showing it,
Next to me.
Next to me.
Next to me.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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De Profundis
There is a stubble field on which a black rain falls.
There is a tree which, brown, stands lonely here.
There is a hissing wind which haunts deserted huts---
How sad this evening.
Past the village pond
The gentle orphan still gathers scanty ears of corn.
Golden and round her eyes are gazing in the dusk
And her lap awaits the heavenly bridegroom.
Returning home
Shepherds found the sweet body
Decayed in the bramble bush.
A shade I am remote from sombre hamlets.
The silence of God
I drank from the woodland well.
On my forehead cold metal forms.
Spiders look for my heart.
There is a light that fails in my mouth.
At night I found myself upon a heath,
Thick with garbage and the dust of stars.
In the hazel copse
Crystal angels have sounded once more.
Translated by Jurek Kirakowski
Anonymous submission.
poem by Georg Trakl
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She Does Not Remember
She was an evil stepmother.
In her old age she is slowly dying
in an empty hovel.
She shudders
like a clutch of burnt paper.
She does not remember that she was evil.
But she knows
that she feels cold.
Translated from the Polish by Czeslaw Milosz and Leonard Nathan
Anonymous Submission
poem by Anna Swirszczynska
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The Sea And The Man
You will not tame this sea
either by humility or rapture.
But you can laugh
in its face.
Laughter
was invented by those
who live briefly
as a burst of laughter.
The eternal sea
will never learn to laugh.
Translated from the Polish by Czeslaw Milosz and Leonard Nathan
Anonymous Submission
poem by Anna Swirszczynska
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Kiwi
Fruit without a stone, its shiny
pulp is clear green. Inside, tiny
black microdot seeds. Skin
the color of khakiImagine
a shaggy brown-green pelt
that feels like felt.
It's oval, full-rounded, kind
of egg-shaped. The rind
comes off in strips
when peeled with the lips.
If ripe, full of juice,
melon-sweet, yet tart as goose-
berry almost. A translucent ring
of seed dots looks something
like a coin-slice of banana. Grown
in the tropics, some stone
fruits, overlarge, are queerly
formed. A slablike pit nearly
fills the mango. I
scrape the fibrous pulp off with my
teeth. That slick round ball
in avocado (fruit without juice) we call
alligator pear:
Plant this seedpit with care
on three toothpicks over a glass
of water. It can come to pass
in time, that you'll see
an entire avocado tree.
Some fruits have stones, some seeds.
Papaya's loaded with slimy black beads.
Some seem seedlesslike quince
(that makes your tastebuds wince.)
Persimmon will
be sour, astringent 'until
dead ripe,' they say. Behind
pomegranate's leathery rind,
is a sackful of moist rubies. Pear,
cantaloupe, grapefruit, guava keep their
seeds hidden, as do raspberry, strawberry,
pineapple. Plum, peach and cherry
we know as fruits with big
seedstones. And fig?
Its graininess is seed. Hard to believe
is prickly durian. It's custard
sweetand smells nasty.
But there's no fruit as tasty,
as odd, or as funny
none
as fresh-off-the-vine New Zea-
land kiwi.
poem by May Swenson
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The Fury Of Abandonment
Someone lives in a cave
eating his toes,
I know that much.
Someone little lives under a bush
pressing an empty Coca-Cola can against
his starving bloated stomac,
I know that much.
A monkey had his hands cut off
for a medical experiment
and his claws wept.
I know tht much.
I know that it is all
a matter of hands.
Out of the mournful sweetness of touching
comes love
like breakfast.
Out of the many houses come the hands
before the abandonment of the city,
out of hte bars and shops,
a thin file of ants.
I've been abandoned out here
under the dry stars
with no shoes, no belt
and I've called Rescue Inc. -
that old-fashioned hot line -
no voice.
Left to my own lips, touch them,
my own nostrils, shoulders, breasts,
navel, stomach, mound,kneebone, ankle,
touch them.
It makes me laugh
to see a woman in this condition.
It makes me laugh for America and New York city
when your hands are cut off
and no one answers the phone.
Anonymous submission.
poem by Anne Sexton
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Orange juice
Orange juice mom says drink
When i am sick
It can make me thick
Orange juice i have to pick
licking mom says no
Drinking i have to do
Hate orange juice, mom says i know
Vitamin C it has
And i need to take
for my own sake
Healthy it can make me
Power it can give me
Orange juice
Is all i need
When i am in lead
With the kids at the lake.! :)
poem by michelle al G
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Anonymous Ghurl
Anonymous Ghurl Anonymous Ghurl
Said one day to her mother
'I'll be me and no one else
I'll never be another'
Anonymous Ghurl Anonymous Ghurl
Said one day to her dad
'The things that you have done to me
They make me feel so sad'
Anonymous Ghurl Anonymous Ghurl
Said one day to God
'How can I belive in you
You are such a fraud'
Anonymous Ghurl Anonymous Ghurl
Said one day to her friend
'I don't want to go on any more
I want it all to end'
Anonymous Ghurl Anonymous Ghurl
Said one day to no one
'I can't go on anymore
As she pulled the trigger of the gun'
Anonymous Ghurl Anonymous Ghurl
Said one day to me
'Leave your body far behind
And you too can be free'
poem by Anonymous Ghurl
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poem by Phong Nguyen Ngoc
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The Greatest Love
She is sixty. She lives
the greatest love of her life.
She walks arm-in-arm with her dear one,
her hair streams in the wind.
Her dear one says:
"You have hair like pearls."
Her children say:
"Old fool."
Translated from the Polish by Czeslaw Milosz and Leonard Nathan
Anonymous Submission
poem by Anna Swirszczynska
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Torrents Drenched With Turbinado Sugar
Your lips,
When kisses taste sweetened...
Reminds me,
Of torrents drenched with Turbinado sugar.
Harvested raw and fresh,
From the rich lava whipped grounds...
Found,
On the Islands of Hawaii.
And I yearn to have this melt upon your tongue.
As I enhale deeply the warmth of your breath,
Spiced.
I've used some on the baked chicken.
On the tossed green salad!
Made with Romaine, garden tomatos...
Vadalia onion, mixed peppers, lemon juice and love!
To delight my taste buds,
After my dance inside your inviting mouth.
And rushing to bare us both...
To prepare in our sharing of dessert!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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oh yes, Mr. Shaun, the Bible was not written in English
The Gospel of Christ and, in general,
the Holy Bible are written with the inspiration of God.
The Prophets and the Apostles
have recorded in written form
a portion of the oral teaching of the Old Testament
in Hebrew and Aramaic as well as the New Testament in Greek.
in Hebrew and Aramaic as well as the New Testament in Greek.
in Hebrew and Aramaic as well as the New Testament in Greek.
in Hebrew and Aramaic as well as the New Testament in Greek.
in Hebrew and Aramaic as well as the New Testament in Greek.
in Hebrew and Aramaic as well as the New Testament in Greek.
in Hebrew and Aramaic as well as the New Testament in Greek.
in Hebrew and Aramaic as well as the New Testament in Greek.
These are the original languages of the Holy Bible from' which all the translations have been derived. God's inspiration is confined to the original languages and utterances, not the many translations. There are 1,300 languages and dialects into which the Holy Bible, in its entirety or in portions, has been
translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated.translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated.
This does not mean that the translations do not convey the meaning of the Bible for spiritual uprightness of the readers in their own language. On the contrary the Bible should be spread and preached to 'all nations'. The missionaries in foreign lands learn the language or the dialect of. the new area into which they bring the Bible and other religious teachings. For example, the missionaries from Constantinople, Saints Cyril and Methodios, sent to Christianize the Slavic peoples in the 9th century, first translated the Bible and the ritual books into the language of the people.
yes, Mr. Shaun, my friend the Bible was not written in English.IT was written in HEBREW, ARAMAIC, and GREEK....
But i like it written in English too, how i wish it were written in such a
language,
with a sense of class
and fashionable disguise,
for without it, how could i ever understand, God,
oh, my, God!
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Klage
Dreamless sleep - the dusky Eagles
nightlong rush about my head,
man's golden image drowned
in timeless icy tides. On jagged reefs
his purpling body. Dark
echoes sound above the seas.
Stormy sadness' sister, see
our lonely skiff sunk down
by starry skies:
the silent face of night.
Translated by Jurek Kirakowski
Anonymous submission.
poem by Georg Trakl
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Quick Is The Beat Of My Heart
Written by lewis mark
Lead vocals by james young
If its my time to die today
Please God oh make it fast
Balanced on this point for a year and half
I just dont think I can last
Theres a man whos laid to rest
The man who gave me my start
I wish I could quit but I cant and its rough
Quick is the beat of my heart
Quick is the beat of my heart
So please all you people
Dont you grieve for me
The blood in my veins is black and I cant bleed
Ive suffered the pain
And all I can face is the dark
Oh, lord, quick is the beat of my heart
Quick is the beat of my heart
Now my bags are almost packed
The trains about to depart
I wish I could quit but I cant and its rough
Quick is the beat of my heart
Quick is the beat of my heart
Quick is the beat of my heart
Quick is the beat of my heart
Quick is the beat of my heart
Quick is the beat of my heart
If its my time to die...
song performed by by Styx
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ant Music
cool music
Well I'm standin' here, looking at you.
What do I see?
I'm lookin' straight through. It's so sad
when you're young, too be told.
But, you're havin' fun so un-plug the jukebox.
And do us all a favor.
Oooh, that musics lost its taste, so try another flavor.
AntMusic..
(oh, oh oh oh oh oh )
AntMusic...
(oh, oh oh oh oh oh )
AntMusic...
(oh, oh oh oh oh oh )
AntMusic...
(oh, oh oh oh oh oh..)
Ooooh, when i'm standin here, what do I see?
A big Nothing, threatening me.
It's so sad, when you're young to be told.
But you're havin' fun so un-plug the jukebox.
And do us all a favor.
Oooh, that music's lost its taste, so try another flavor.
AntMusic...
(oh, oh oh oh oh oh...)
AntMusic...
(oh, oh oh oh oh oh...)
AntMusic...
(oh, oh oh oh oh oh...)
AntMusic...
(oh, oh oh oh oh oh...)
Don't tread on an ant, he's done nothin' to you.
There might come a day
when he's treadin' on you.
Don't tread on ant you'll end up black and blue.
Oh, cut off his head, legs come lookin' for you. So;
Un-plug the jukebox.
And do us all a favor.
Hey ooohh
That, music's lost its taste, so try another flavor.
AntMusic...
(oh, oh oh oh oh......)
Antmusic...
(oh, oh oh oh oh......)
AntMusic!
(oh, oh oh oh oh......)
AntMusic......
oh, un-plug the jukebox
and do us all a favor.
the music's lost its taste, so try another flavor...
AntMusic.
song performed by by Ok Go
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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