The Good Tree
the good tree
bears a lot of fruits
and when it is time
for the picking
of the ripe ones
there are no questions
of who you are
and what do you deserve
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Fruits Of The Tree
What fruits we have!
Glittering with evil,
To shed innocent blood,
Shining with greed,
And we end in comfort that lasts only a moment
What fruits we bare!
Lost in ambition and passion
That we preach prosperity and success
As if they last an eternity
Swelling with pride that lasts a stint
Fruits of the tree
That the master has planted.
They can choose to ripen, or to stay raw!
They can choose to rot, or to stay ripe!
But, every fruit stands the test of time.
In the end, Ripe with truth and love,
Victory is imminent.
Rotten with deception and hatred,
Destruction waits:
The fruits from the tree of life
poem by Timothy muggaga
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On Promising Fruitfulness of a Tree
A comely sight indeed it is to see
A world of blossoms on an apple-tree:
Yet far more comely would this tree appear,
If all its dainty blooms young apples were.
But how much more might one upon it see,
If all would hang there till they ripe should be.
But most of all in beauty 'twould abound,
If then none worm-eaten should there be found.
But we, alas! do commonly behold
Blooms fall apace, if mornings be but cold.
They too, which hang till they young apples are,
By blasting winds and vermin take despair,
Store that do hang, while almost ripe, we see
By blust'ring winds are shaken from the tree,
So that of many, only some there be,
That grow till they come to maturity.
Comparison.
This tree a perfect emblem is of those
Which God doth plant, which in his garden grows,
Its blasted blooms are motions unto good,
Which chill affections do nip in the bud.
Those little apples which yet blasted are,
Show some good purposes, no good fruits bear.
Those spoiled by vermin are to let us see,
How good attempts by bad thoughts ruin'd be.
Those which the wind blows down, while they are green,
Show good works have by trials spoiled been.
Those that abide, while ripe upon the tree,
Show, in a good man, some ripe fruit will be.
Behold then how abortive some fruits are,
Which at the first most promising appear.
The frost, the wind, the worm, with time doth show,
There flows, from much appearance, works but few.
poem by John Bunyan
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Many Still Question...
many still question
loneliness,
tracing the roots
and thinking about possible cures
i have aged
my hair has turned grey
58%
and i don't ask anymore
it is a tree
and there are so many fruits
to gather
and satisfy our
hunger and thirst
with them
ripe for the picking
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Sonnet: Nature Resurrects
The ‘curry-leaf’ tree bears berries again!
The black fruits look enticing, succulent;
And more will ripen with the August-rain,
A feast to the spotted-grey bird, God-sent.
The guava-trees are full of flow’rs and fruits!
They ripen fast each morn to squirrel’s squeak;
The landscape will have ripe fruits like a ‘Blitz, ’
Which many birds will then happily beak.
The rain can do such magic to the lands;
It resurrects the almost dead, dry trees;
Some fairies good are working with their wands!
The fauna seems as busy as the bees.
Thus, Nature sprinkles compassion on all!
Her heart melts to each creature’s plaintive call.
8-9-2002
poem by John Celes
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Eatting Fruits
Eat fruits
Eat...
Every day...
Each
Break fast...
Lunch...
Dinner...
Eat...
Fruits...
Fruits is
Good for health...
Fruits is
Good for Taste
Fruits is
Good for mind...
Fruits is
Good for god...
So...
Fruits is
Good for hole and
Hoe body...
Any fruits...
Any time...
Eat eat eat...
Avoide all all
Disease...
Thats all...
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
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God cares for all Creatures
The guava sapling planted has grown big;
The tree is laden with ripe fruits many;
How many can I pluck or eat each day?
Lie fruits unseen at heights, I cannot reach.
I see the parrots enjoy tasty fruits;
I see the squirrels gnaw the fine ripe ones;
I see bats with voracious appetites;
And many more fall down by force of winds.
God fills the tree with fruits for each season;
Man cannot eat all fruits the tree can bear;
God feeds each bird of the air with care;
He made them all and that’s the chief reason.
When God can feed His other creatures well,
So many human beings starve to death;
Oh, what a man-made tragedy, we see,
As tons of food goes rotten every day!
God loves all human beings even more
Than all His other creatures whom He made;
Both food and drink turn scarce by acts of men;
Why blame God for our misdemeanor, then?
Copyright by Dr John Celes 4-3-2008
poem by John Celes
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Following No Rules
...is like going towards a house
on a mountaintop
the trees there have
ripe fruits for the picking
lots of jack
fruits spreading a map
of smell
and you focus your gaze
and you do not know
which way
you follow a scent
a view
and you bow down
to a thick grass
finding your way in there
you are not lost
you are tired
the house is still there
the fruits are about to fall
no one has gone there yet
in your wild
imagination
a native tells you frankly
sir, it is only the top of the mountain
nothing more
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Riddles
stay:
some words still dance inside your ear
they like it there
departure:
some fruits are ripe for the picking
but you are not there
they are falling even without the wind
go:
how do you interpret my silence?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Phantasm
The Phantasm
I observed people
on a sprawling tall tree
gladly perched and poised ecstatically
on the strong green branches
picking devouring and eating heartily
the ripe juicy fruits with glee.
I, down below looked up
longed to be above-to sup
with them in their band
and be aloft and grand
to stuff, gormandize and burp.
In time I took time
and with great difficulty
climbed the tree, them to mime
and for a short time
my craving was in satiety.
There, to my utter dismay
I was witness to their bickering
meanness, manipulations, tinkering
and the manner in which
each one trounced upon
the other to eliminate and lay
from their stature.
The vile nature
they adopted to protract their stay
onto the perches in the branches
was sickening and nauseating.
I had no mind to hold on clinging
and taste the juicy fruits
of their Robinhood cloaked loots
for they appeared sinister
and deleterious to minister
to an unalloyed clean soul.
Presently I slid down—
them to mock
and stood firm like a rock
down on the ground
wondering at the chasm
of the phantasm.
Chandra Thiagarajan
poem by Chandra Thiagarajan
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The Tree Without Fruits
the way they handle
a tree without fruits is
crazy
it is as though
the leaves do not matter anymore
or the roots
or even the wood itself
or the living rings
within
that tell about
a certain
age
they are thinking about
a fire
they are cruel
and i think they deserve
to be
burned in hell
the value of the tree
is not just its fruits
mind you
trees also present memories
of their own
their roots too have
beautiful stories to tell
their twigs and lentils
too have dreams
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Simplest Joy...
one day
i gaze upon the window
it is raining
outside
and the Santol tree fronting our house
is laden with ripe fruits
like one
Christmas tree...
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Y... Garbage Man
Become a garbage man
Every day, just for a minute
Search for some litter
Pick up some garbage
Where ever you can
Don't stoop down.
Not good for the back
Just sit on your heels
Stay squatted and look up
It gives you a special perspective
Pick up a hand full
Walk to the bin
Not the nearest
The walking is exercise
Good for your body
So, become a garbage man
It can give you perspective
It is good for your body
It is good for the world
Just a hand full per day.
-
Note:
Garbage men really deserve ou full respect.
I got the idea to write this piece when I was picking up a handful of garbage from the beach. I thought if there more people picking up garbage than people throwing garbage, littering would no longer be a problem.
I hope in this poem there is nothing disrespectful of garbage men. They really do a great job en deserve our respect as much as doctors and lawyers deserve our respect (as indicated in the comments by unwritten soul below)
poem by Aufie Zophy
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A Day In Summer
perhaps only some of you
knew what really happened
things that we did
at the prime of our youth
the one at the river was not true
neither was the one at the cogon grasses
the rumors were too advanced
and bent like a misshapen twig
perhaps this time you must have known
what joys we shared
picking ripe mangoes on that huge tree
at the foot of the hill
we drove no monkeys away
and no monkeys did give us any bother
the mangoes were too juicy
too ripe for our hands
too fragile for our wantonness
we never brought you any.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Under The Mango Tree
i like the idea
of doing many things under the mango tree
like
watching time go by like it is a stranger
and i
am a stranger too watching time pass by
like i am so interested
with what time
can do to me
making me old
making the mango tree bloom and flower and have fruits
and they are so many
that the mango tree bends
to the ground
and time stays for a while and ripens the fruits
and make all of them
in time
fall one by one to the ground
like some kind
of withered flowers
luscious, sweet, fruits of the mango tree
falling
by the slightest passing of the wind
and then the children
come and with all joy
pick them one by one
putting what they can
under
their shirts and still rushing
to keep
and take some more
under the mango tree
all the people
are so much alike
the rushing, the taking, the joy
of always having more
and it will never stop
as i watch time slowly go by
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Living And Reliving An Experience....
it is nothing but experience
it shows, it is felt, and then
you draw it back again nearer
your face, take a closer look,
analyze, and feel and
reflect, many times, digest,
expand, do not decorate,
take it as it is,
freeze it, ...stay still,
be a sculpture, or a ladder,
a pillar, or even be a bowl
of water,
do not titillate
visualize, taper, sharpen,
no rattling please, just
the closer look at the closing of
the day....
it dances before you,
shows its best, becomes a tree with
so many ripe fruits for your
picking
really, this is what experience is all
about.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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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)
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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The virtuous fertilizer
You fertile the soil
And the tree grows well.
Fruits ripe and smell
The wingless unkind human birds in thrill.
They taste the fruits and saliva spill
Afterward throw the seeds ill will.
And the human dignity go through the mill.
* If this rare bird could fly?
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Harmony
when the guava tree
showed leaves
we waited for time
for it to give flowers
and then it came
we waited till it
bore fruits and then
the fruits ripened
we waited till all the
ripe ones fell to the
ground
then our hands picked
them all up
and we ate the juicy
sweet pulp and then
we spit out the seeds
to the ground
we swallowed what
fills our thirst and hunger
and the world
smiled
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The fruits of a tree on the roadside are never eaten ripe.