Thoughts While Watching A Still Painting Of Pears And Cherries
upon a tray
are the still orange pears
below are the three cherries
and the wilting leaves
i like the way the pears'
way of seducing me into biting it
the cherries compete with
the enticement
the leaves wilt with envy
and here i am watching and not
even allowed to touch anything
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Tree by the Road
A naked tree
stands apart.
Cars pass
with freeway speed
bending thin branches
in their own furious wind.
Slowing
I see black leaves
on nearly empty limbs…
No, not leaves,
but dark pears,
or glass balls left to fall
from a forgotten Christmas tree
abandoned, alone, without cheer,
when, roaring, an eighteen wheeler
spews misty twisters.
Then leaves, ornaments, and pears
all rise in a singular mass
of flashing black wings
cawing into the
grey winter
air.
poem by Steven Federle
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Study Of Two Pears
I
Opusculum paedagogum.
The pears are not viols,
Nudes or bottles.
They resemble nothing else.
II
They are yellow forms
Composed of curves
Bulging toward the base.
They are touched red.
III
They are not flat surfaces
Having curved outlines.
They are round
Tapering toward the top.
IV
In the way they are modelled
There are bits of blue.
A hard dry leaf hangs
From the stem.
V
The yellow glistens.
It glistens with various yellows,
Citrons, oranges and greens
Flowering over the skin.
VI
The shadows of the pears
Are blobs on the green cloth.
The pears are not seen
As the observer wills.
poem by Wallace Stevens
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
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Apples, Peaches, Bananas & Pears
Apples, peaches, bananas and pears
I love you, girl, now thats the truth
I need you
Dont be cruel, dont be cruel
Give me just a little help and to show how much I care
I bring you apples, peaches, bananas and pears
Run to me
Girl dont wait to long
And youll see
I wont do you wrong
Promise me no matter what
Forever youll be there
Ill bring you apples, peaches, bananas and pears
Ive said all I can today, girl
Thats the way I am
Take it for what its worth,
Throw the rest into the sun
Give me you
Girl, thats all I ask
Please be true
All I wants a love to last
Ill give it all back to you
And just to prove Im fair
I bring you apples, peaches, bananas and pears
Whoa!
I love you, girl, now thats the truth
I need you
Dont be cruel, dont be cruel
Give me just a little help
And to show how much I care
I bring you apples, peaches, bananas and pears
Apples, peaches, bananas and pears
song performed by by Monkees
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Tree
Ready with leaves and with buds stood the tree.
"Shall I take them?" the frost said, now puffing with glee.
"Oh my, no, let them stand,
Till flowers are at hand!"
All trembling from tree-top to root came the plea.
Flowers unfolding the birds gladly sung.
"Shall I take them?" the wind said and merrily swung.
"Oh my, no, let them stand,
Till cherries are at hand!"
Protested the tree, while it quivering hung.
The cherries came forth 'neath the sun's glowing eye.
"Shall I take them?" a rosy young girl's eager cry.
"Oh my, yes, you can take,
I've kept them for your sake!"
Low bending its branches, the tree brought them nigh.
poem by Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Ballet For A Rainy Day
Orange and lemon
Raincoats roll and tumble
Together, just liked fruit tipped from a tray
Pineapple wet heads
Watch new hairdos crumble
As scenery sunlight shifts away
Ballet for a rainy day
Silent film of melting miracle play
Apples and cherries
Are varnished in water
Despite, striped awnings bright dismay
I push my paintbrush
To conjure a new world
While this one is slowly washed away
Ballet for a rainy day
Silent film of melting miracle play
Dancing out there through my window
To the backdrop of a slow descending grey
When it rains it rains
All the colors in my paintbox
When it rains it rains
Tickets for the front row seats
Up on the rooftops
Orange and lemon
Raincoats roll and tumble
Apples and cherries
Together, dropped in diamond disarray
Ballet for a rainy day
Silent film of melting miracle play
Dancing out there through my window
Behind the curtain silver falling
Ballet for a rainy day
Silent film of melting miracle play
Dancing out there through my window
To the backdrop of a slow descending grey
song performed by by Xtc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Fruit Together
A plum went to market
to buy some grapes,
everyone was was there
that day.
They didn't come
just to play.
Fruit was what
they needed most.
The apple came
to buy some pears,
Pears came to
buy some apples.
They ended up
buying each other.
What a fix,
so fruity was it.
Everyone went home
that day,
so they could all
make some fruit pies.
What a site this
was, seeing each
one making pies out,
of each other,
somehow pies
were made this
day, you ask
How was this done?
you figure it out,
I just wrote
the poem.
wrote 4-14-07
There is a Garden in Her Face
There is a garden in her face
Where roses and white lilies grow;
A heav'nly paradise is that place
Wherein all pleasant fruits do flow.
There cherries grow which none may buy
Till "Cherry-ripe" themselves do cry.
Those cherries fairly do enclose
Of orient pearl a double row,
Which when her lovely laughter shows,
They look like rose-buds filled with snow;
Yet them nor peer nor prince can buy,
Till "Cherry-ripe" themselves do cry.
Her eyes like angels watch them still;
Her brows like bended bows do stand,
Threat'ning with piercing frowns to kill
All that attempt, with eye or hand
Those sacred cherries to come nigh
Till "Cherry-ripe" themselves do cry.
poem by Thomas Champion (1619)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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There Is A Garden In Her Face
There is a garden in her face
Where roses and white lilies grow;
A heav'nly paradise is that place
Wherein all pleasant fruits do flow.
There cherries grow which none may buy,
Till 'Cherry ripe' themselves do cry.
Those cherries fairly do enclose
Of orient pearl a double row,
Which when her lovely laughter shows,
They look like rose-buds fill'd with snow;
Yet them nor peer nor prince can buy,
Till 'Cherry ripe' themselves do cry.
Her eyes like angels watch them still,
Her brows like bended bows do stand,
Threat'ning with piercing frowns to kill
All that attempt with eye or hand
Those sacred cherries to come nigh,
Till 'Cherry ripe' themselves do cry.
poem by Thomas Campion
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Photosynthesis
a light
traveler tired
rests upon
the smooth spot of
leaves,
there is something that
is eaten
but always not consumed
leaves grow more leaves
fruit upon fruit
are the hours
upon a tray of days
light leaves
the world lets darkness
sleep upon
its satisfied
bosom
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Orange Rose (Poem 10 from Rose Series)
The orange rose,
gives you bliss,
happiness and enticement.
If you want a good time,
all you gotta do is pick up,
an orange rose,
and smell it's sweet scent.
You will feel that bliss,
happiness and enticement.
The orange rose is meant for everyone,
to pick up and smell.
It's good for you,
cuz everyone needs to be happy.
Take the orange rose....
poem by Ninja Soul
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Greeen Green Grass Of Home
The old home town looks the same,
As I step down from the train
And there to greet me is my mamma and my poppa
Down the road I look, and there runs Mary,
Hair of gold, lips like cherries,
It's good to touch the green, green grass of home
Yes, they'll all come to meet me, Arms a-reachin', smilin' sweetly,
It's good to touch the green, green grass of home
The old house is still standin,'Though the paint is cracked and dry
And there's that old oak tree, That I used to play on.
Down the lane I'll walk with my sweet Mary,
Hair of gold and lips like cherries
It's good to touch the green, green grass of home.
Then I awake and look around me,
At the four gray walls that surround me,
And I realize .Yes I was only dreaming,
For there's a guard and a sad old padre,
Arm in arm we'll walk at daybreak,
And at last I'll touch the green green grass of home
song performed by by Tom Jones
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Among the leaves [Între frunze]
The garden holds the secret of everlasting bliss
And every blade of grass its passion will fulfill;
It's May, and all the leaves now feel the love's sweet kiss
And its confusing thrill.
The gillyflower bends so charming its rosette,
Carnation in the sun is laughing like a queen,
The vine, on apple tree crawls lovingly and wet
Embracing its trunk green.
The Morning Glories, with the slender arms of theirs,
Climb on the cherry tree and reach the twigs above,
While cherries, near the leaves that are disposed in pairs,
Are blushing and make love.
A song is rising fast towards the sun that shines,
Spreading enormous love and hugs in the blue sky,
A gorgeous charming poem composed of burning lines
And full of secret sigh.
Hush: the entire garden is happy to merge thus
Its feeling with this music that readily receives,
And from its golden depth its sky is watching us
And laughs among the leaves.
poem by Alexandru Macedonski, translated by Octavian Cocoş
Submitted by anonym
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Sunday Morning - V
She says, "But in contentment I still feel
The need of some imperishable bliss."
Death is the mother of beauty; hence from her,
Alone, shall come fulfilment to our dreams
And our desires. Although she strews the leaves
Of sure obliteration on our paths,
The path sick sorrow took, the many paths
Where triumph rang its brassy phrase, or love
Whispered a little out of tenderness,
She makes the willow shiver in the sun
For maidens who were wont to sit and gaze
Upon the grass, relinquished to their feet.
She causes boys to pile new plums and pears
On disregarded plate. The maidens taste
And stray impassioned in the littering leaves.
poem by Wallace Stevens
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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Chocolate Cherries Is Much Safer?
she told me eating
chocolate cherries
is much safer
perhaps I prefer
getting drunk drinking
in alcohol sour cherries
drinking the second
the third one would
love to share
artists might define
this drinking
as frustration eating
how quickly spirit
frustration times
slip away passing
Dedicated to Miroslava Odalovic.
poem by Terence George Craddock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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What Is Pink?
What is pink? a rose is pink
By the fountain's brink.
What is red? a poppy's red
In its barley bed.
What is blue? the sky is blue
Where the clouds float through.
What is white? a swan is white
Sailing in the light.
What is yellow? pears are yellow,
Rich and ripe and mellow.
What is green? the grass is green,
With small flowers between.
What is violet? clouds are violet
In the summer twilight.
What is orange? why, an orange,
Just an orange!
poem by Christina Georgina Rossetti
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Cherry-Ripe
THERE is a garden in her face
Where roses and white lilies blow;
A heavenly paradise is that place,
Wherein all pleasant fruits do flow:
There cherries grow which none may buy
Till 'Cherry-ripe' themselves do cry.
Those cherries fairly do enclose
Of orient pearl a double row,
Which when her lovely laughter shows,
They look like rose-buds fill'd with snow;
Yet them nor peer nor prince can buy
Till 'Cherry-ripe' themselves do cry.
Her eyes like angels watch them still;
Her brows like bended bows do stand,
Threat'ning with piercing frowns to kill
All that attempt with eye or hand
Those sacred cherries to come nigh,
Till 'Cherry-ripe' themselves do cry.
poem by Thomas Campion
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Color
What is pink? a rose is pink
By a fountain's brink.
What is red? a poppy's red
In its barley bed.
What is blue? the sky is blue
Where the clouds float thro'.
What is white? a swan is white
Sailing in the light.
What is yellow? pears are yellow,
Rich and ripe and mellow.
What is green? the grass is green,
With small flowers between.
What is violet? clouds are violet
In the summer twilight.
What is orange? Why, an orange,
Just an orange!
poem by Christina Georgina Rossetti
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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If Life Is A Bowl Of Cherries (Fun Poem 45)
If life a bowl of cherries
why do I always end up with the pips?
Why is it on a bright and sunny day
does it always rain on me?
Why is it when I go to climb a ladder
the one I get has no rungs?
I once had a car
that I used to like to drive,
others liked to drive it too
and they nicked it three times.
We have all heard
of the dive dropping birds,
well they use my car
to do their practicing on.
My world is so upside down
that I never know if
I’m coming or going,
nor where I’ve been.
So the next time you pass
a bowl of cherries
could you please leave a couple for me?
The pips are rather hard
and the stick in my teeth.
14 November 2007
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Life Is Just A Bowl Of Cherries
People are queer, theyre always crowing, scrambling and rushing about;
Why dont they stop someday, address themselves this way?
Why are we here? where are we going? its time that we found out.
Were not here to stay; were on a short holiday.
Life is just a bowl of cherries.
Dont take it serious; its too mysterious.
You work, you save, you worry so,
But you cant take your dough when you go, go, go.
So keep repeating its the berries,
The strongest oak must fall,
The sweet things in life, to you were just loaned
So how can you lose what youve never owned?
Life is just a bowl of cherries,
So live and laugh at it all.
Life is just a bowl of cherries.
Dont take it serious; its too mysterious.
At eight each morning I have got a date,
To take my plunge round the empire state.
Youll admit its not the berries,
In a building thats so tall;
Theres a guy in the show, the girls love to kiss;
Get thousands a week just for crooning like this:
Life is just a bowl of . . . aw, nuts!
So live and laugh at it all!
song performed by by Joe Jackson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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