Pears
Some say
it was a pear
Eve ate.
Why else the shape
of the womb,
or of the cello
Whose single song is grief
for the parent tree?
Why else the fruit itself
tawny and sweet
which your lover
over breakfast
lets go your pear-
shaped breast
to reach for?
poem by Linda Pastan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
The Idea Of 'Pear Tree
for Robin Blaser
a pear tree forgets only itself as
an audacity
limbs recall themselves
appear to reach
one cannot see them
reaching
they may be silent but
we cannot know that toward
later sweetness they yearn
then seed a still dirt around
content to lie down
the idea of 'pear tree'
reduces to all sparks
yet
no illusion of darkness
hastens the pear
but O it tastes
poem by Warren Falcon
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Ripened
Ripened!
But on a wrong tree done.
This hybrid thinks it to be pure,
And naturally sweet.
But the tree adopted it,
From despair.
And convince the nut...
It was a fruited pear.
And when the apples growing,
On the tree became aware...
They were taught to respect the nut!
Although they knew,
Never a pear would be there.
Yet,
Ripened to be spared,
From playful impatient squirrels.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Villeggiature
My window, framed in pear-tree bloom,
White-curtained shone, and softly lighted:
So, by the pear-tree, to my room
Your ghost last night climbed uninvited.
Your solid self, long leagues away,
Deep in dull books, had hardly missed me;
And yet you found this Romeo's way,
And through the blossom climbed and kissed me.
I watched the still and dewy lawn,
The pear-tree boughs hung white above you;
I listened to you till the dawn,
And half forgot I did not love you.
Od, dear! what pretty things you said,
What pearls of song you threaded for me!
I did not-till your ghost had fled-
Remember how you always bore me!
poem by Edith Nesbit
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Late Spring
The moon drained white by day
lifts from the hill
where the old pear-tree fallen in storm
springs up in blossom still.
Women believe in the moon:
this branch I hold
is not more white and still than she
whose flower is ages old,
and so I carry home
flowers from the pear
that makes such obstinate tokens still
for fruit it cannot bear.
poem by Judith Wright
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The ripe pear
Quartering this ripe pear
- a knife-and-fork job; it gave little away
except a slight softness around the stalk,
yet seems to contain more juice than
any work of man could hold -
quartering this ripe pear,
I'm caught up in wonder:
this is almost too good for human beings -
it should have a religion built around its praise;
as if it wishes to tell us something
that we might have overlooked
about such mouth-worn phrases as
Nature's bounty and God's grace..
or as if, two thousand years ago,
it had leaned, heavy on its branch,
from the wall of Plato's leafy Academy,
saw him writing of ideals,
and smiled;
and now I've written that,
I can eat this pear,
tasting it and what I've written;
this pear, I swear,
now tastes even better;
as if I had submitted
on some altar, to be consumed by praise;
praise that tastes of pear; pear that tastes of praise.
poem by Michael Shepherd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Mother Tree
In all my life I will never see,
something quite as unique as a tree.
The variety of juicy fruit that you may bear,
like the delicous orange, apple, or my favorite the pear.
From as soft as a peach,
to as hard as a nut.
From the multiple colors of and apple,
To the single shade of a cocoonut.
The mother tree always stands sturdy, alone, and divine.
A tree is meant to protect it's riches,
like the gold of a pharoahs tomb.
With it's branches reaching high into the sky to protect its treasure,
like children out of a mothers womb.
A tree to me is like an unspoken being,
quiet but very bold.
It always seems to stand tall,
whether its rain, drought, storms, or the bitter cold.
In all my life shall never see,
something as caring as a mother tree.
poem by Nyles Peele
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Aunty Anna's Orchard
it was the largest house
next to it an orchard
full of apple and plum trees
and one lonesome old pear tree
in the corner of the backyard
this was
where she spent several summers
most of her time
leaning against
the gnarled trunk
she could dream
she could hide
she could feel free
for a few minutes
or all day
she could watch
the growth of the leaves
creating a green roof
it was a shelter
if some rain fell
the glorious pear blossoms
and it's private perfume
filled her room
for a while
the blossom leaves disappear
with the wind
more than a few
stayed behind
for coloring a carpet
on the floor
sometimes
nothing happened
nothing changed
all though she was not being patient
about the growth of the pears
out of reach
high in her old tree
still standing on her toes
she needed to be tall
she stretched every day
and grew too
at last
picking that first pear
enjoying that view above
showing she would reap
very soon
so much more
she just had to wait
for the pears to fall
poem by Ellie Daphne van Stralen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Sweet Pear
Sweet pear, sweet pear
Those who say they love you would never dare
Ill watch out for you
Ill always be there
In the hour of distress you need not fear
In all the world theres only one true love
And finding its hard enough
I bless whatevers in the sky above
For bringing you to me
But theres a void without your kiss
I wake on the precipice above the abyss
And though the touch of your lips these fears dismiss
Make no mistake there is an ache I have to live with
Was my grip too lose, my grip too strong
That made you want to run away
And now youre back where I pretend you belong
I wonder every night and day
How long
I swear this is my prayer
til were burned and scattered in the atmosphere
Or lost in the world across a crowded room
I am your stupid lover, your wretched groom
song performed by by Elvis Costello
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Kairos - For Spicer Who 'told me not
one will not win readers by cursing
the darkness
that's already in the canon
too many ears are hurt from such an age
lost its ability to hear beyond crash
nor sit still long enough to see
what sun may rise
even that belief, 'sunrise'
is failing
stars are falling
raging ones
gaze only at themselves
bereft of capacities to
gaze for
or even
toward
an other
one cannot reify thunder
selves ARE
redundantly so
so many pages torn out
a pear tree forgets only itself as
an audacity
limbs recall themselves
appear to reach
one cannot see them
reaching
they may be silent but
we cannot know that toward
later sweetness they yearn
then seed a still dirt around
content to lie down
the idea of 'pear tree' reduces
to all sparks
yet
no illusion of darkness
hastens the pear
But O it tastes
**
'Kairos is the passing moment in which something happens as the time unfolds...it is a small window of becoming and opportunity. One of the origins of the word comes from shepherds watching the stars. As the night progresses and the stars turn in the sky, they appear to rise and then fall against the horizon. The moment when a star has reached its apogee and appears to change direction from ascending to descending is its kairos.' -Corrigall, J, Payne, H, Wilkinson,
H (eds) , About A Body,2006: pg.201
poem by Warren Falcon
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
If you want to know the taste of a pear, you must change the pear by eating it yourself. If you want to know the theory and methods of revolution, you must take part in revolution. All genuine knowledge originates in direct experience.
quote by Mao Zedong
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A Quick One While Hes Away
I. her mans been gone
Her mans been gone
For nearly a year
He was due home yesterday
But he aint here
Her mans been gone
For nigh on a year
He was due home yesterday
But he aint here
Ii. crying town
Down your street your crying is a well-known sound
Your street is very well known, right here in town
Your town is very famous for the little girl
Whose cries can be heard all around the world
Iii. we have a remedy
Fa la la la la la
Fa la la la la
Fa la la la la la
Fa la la la la
We have a remedy
Youll appreciate
No need to be so sad
Hes only late
Well bring you flowers and things
Help pass your time
Well give him eagles wings
Then he can fly to you
Fa la la la la la
Fa la la la la
Fa la la la la la
Fa la la la la
Fa la la la la la
Fa la la la la la
We have a remedy
Fa la la la la la la
We have a remedy
Fa la la la la la la
We have a remedy
Fa la la la la la la
We have a remedy
Fa la la la la la la
(spoken)
We have a remedy.
We have!
Little girl, why dont you stop your crying?
Im gonna make you feel all right
Iv. ivor the engine driver
My name is ivor
Im an engine driver
I know him well
I know why you feel blue
Just cause hes late
Dont mean hell never get through
He told me he loves you
He aint no liar, I aint either
So lets have a smile for an old engine driver
So lets have a smile for an old engine driver
Please take a sweet
Come take a walk with me
Well sort it out
Back at my place, maybe
Itll come right
You aint no fool, I aint either
So why not be nice to an old engine driver?
Better be nice to an old engine driver
Better be nice to an old engine driver
V. soon be home
Well soon be home
Well soon be home
Well soon
Well soon, soon, soon be home
Well soon be home
Well soon be home
Well soon
Well soon, soon, soon be home
Come on, old horse
Soon be home
Soon be home
Soon
Well soon, soon, soon be home
Well soon
Well soon, soon, soon be home
Well soon be home
Soon be home ...
Vi. you are forgiven
Dang, dang, dang, dang, dang, dang, dang, dang, dang
Cello, cello, cello, cello, cello, cello
Cello, cello, cello, cello, cello, cello
Cello, cello, cello, cello, cello, cello
Cello, cello, cello, cello, cello, cello
I cant believe it
Do my eyes deceive me?
Am I back in your arms?
Away from all harm?
Its like a dream to be with you again
Cant believe that Im with you again
I missed you and I must admit
I kissed a few and once did sit
On ivor the engine drivers lap
And later with him, had a nap
You are forgiven, you are forgiven, you are forgiven ... (ad lib)
You are forgiven
song performed by by Who
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
The prickly pear has company only when it bears fruit.
Emily Dickinson's Birthday Present
Emily Dickinson's Birthday Present
Miss Dickinson, You are a pear
Prickly in my bed
You fight to hold the covers up
And hiss, 'We are not wed! '
Let me see at least one breast
And kiss its' purple grape
You stay my wrist with iron bands
And softly whisper, 'Rape! ';
This is not fair my prickly pear,
I want to see you nude!
You wrap the sheets and mummify
And tell me I am crude;
Have all your words and clever play
Been a scattering of seeds,
Oh I would plough your two locked legs,
Yet you won't do the deed.
With fiendish strength I guide your hand,
'Oh won't you hold my member? '
She pulls away and turns around,
'My birthday's in December.'
poem by David McLansky
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Bare Necessities
Look for the bare necessities
The simple bare necessities
Forget about your worries and your strife
I mean the bare necessities
Old Mother Nature's recipes
That brings the bare necessities of life
Wherever I wander, wherever I roam
I couldn't be fonder of my big home
The bees are buzzin' in the tree
To make some honey just for me
When you look under the rocks and plants
And take a glance at the fancy ants
Then maybe try a few
The bare necessities of life will come to you
They'll come to you!
Look for the bare necessities
The simple bare necessities
Forget about your worries and your strife
I mean the bare necessities
That's why a bear can rest at ease
With just the bare necessities of life
Now when you pick a pawpaw
Or a prickly pear
And you prick a raw paw
Next time beware
Don't pick the prickly pear by the paw
When you pick a pear
Try to use the claw
But you don't need to use the claw
When you pick a pear of the big pawpaw
Have I given you a clue ?
The bare necessities of life will come to you
They'll come to you!
So just try and relax, yeah cool it
Fall apart in my backyard
'Cause let me tell you something little britches
If you act like that bee acts, uh uh
You're working too hard
And don't spend your time lookin' around
For something you want that can't be found
When you find out you can live without it
And go along not thinkin' about it
I'll tell you something true
The bare necessities of life will come to you
Look for the bare necessities
The simple bare necessities
Forget about your worries and your strife
I mean the bare necessities
That's why a bear can rest at ease
With just the bare necessities of life
The bare necessities of life will come to you
song performed by by Bowling For Soup
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Hungry Pity Pete, Five Days Long
'Pity' Pete, as hungry as he can be
Shot a patridge on a pear tree
And took home the fowl to roast
With rum he bought for a toast
It was winter and Peter had no coat
Nor a cosy home, but a shant by the dry moat
On his right arm were woods for fire
And in his left bills of hungry looking Peter
With a ransom on him alive
To any who catches him before the guards arrive
For Pete at every christmas is a menace
That made his Majesty wear all day a grimace
'Tis'' said Pete, ' an excellent meal
For one lonely soul down the cold dale
The meat such a sweet delight
With fire and rum to keep me warm all night
Then by morrow, straight to the castle for mercy
Will i go before his Majesty'
But what had 'Pity Pete' done, if you may ask
That all, the king now must task
To bring him to face so cruel a book
For his deeds in every shady nook
Lo! On the fifth day to christmas, i was told
Did Pete stole five gold rings, which he sold
Two for a new pair of boot, and for firewood
The rest, traded he for rum and food
On the forth day, when farmers were on their beds
Went Pity Pete to steal their birds
And on the third day, stole he more french fowls
Amidst the famers mounting growls
That made the king on the second day
Summoned both lords and commons without delay
To vote what punishment they must dole
Yet, that day still, two turtle doves he stole
Then on the last day to christmas, hungry as he can be
Shot a patridge on a pear tree
That made the kids, every christmas sing this song-
Hungry Pity Pete, five days long
Stole five gold rings
Four famers birds
Three french hens
Two turtle doves
And on christmas eve, shot he
A patridge on a pear tree!
poem by Okonkwo Osamedua. Allen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
You should go to a pear tree for pears, not to an elm.
quote by Publilius Syrus
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!