A virgin in first night.
The petals of the flower have crinkled.
The crest of the apple has slanted,
Its peduncle having relaxed.
There’re cuts littered on fleshy stem.
The burrow was bored to bring a stream
of sap.
The cortex was torn, latex oozing.
Not that a tree is in destruction
but that a virgin is in consummation.
25.05.2001, Pmdi
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Related quotes
Adam and Eve Apple Fantasy
I am bored Adam
I am bored Eve
Let's walk together in the garden
It is afternoon Adam
It is afternoon Eve
Our tummies are empty
Let's have something to eat
It is beautiful garden of Eden
How wonderful the fruit trees!
Adam look honey
This beautiful Apple tree
No Eve this is the knowledge tree
Look Eve there is sign in the sky
Can't you see?
Lord command 'Don't eat from the apple tree'
Ha Ha Ha
Who is that?
I am serpent of the garden
Listen Adam
Listen Eve
Go pick the big apple
from the tree
Adam my honey
Do you hear me?
My stomach is aching
go get me this delicious apple
Eve I would not disobey the Lord
Oh Adam
Oh Honey
You seduce me Eve
Ooh Adam
Ooh Eve
Something happened after
we ate the apple
Go Adam get some Fig leaves
Adam Let's rest
under the shaded tree
Adam let's have babies
Eve let's have off-springs
poem by Sherif Monem
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ThisFlower
ThisFlower
ThisFlower
This flower had a yellow center white lapetals
with Violet edges each little part a much larger
representation of this whole thing was not
as big as mye own hand eye devised a plan quite
similar to pulling stem from apple reading
alphabetic eye have to get to V for Violet
but instead of tempting fate or GOD or Jesus
his own SON or human reflex eye placed no letter
on this game but gamely twisted this flower
in a circle flicking petals in the air until
to mye surprise only one remained with
yellow centered white for love with Violet
edges this Symbol of our love this Flower
stem of green to base this Flower on,
this viable of love.
poem by Charles Hice
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Our Tree
When spring comes round, our apple tree
Is very full of flowers,
And when a bird sits on a branch
The petals fall in showers.
When summer comes, our apple tree
Is very full of green,
And everywhere you look in it
There is a leafy screen.
When autumn comes, our apple tree
Is full of things to eat.
The apples hang from every branch
To tumble at our feet.
When winter comes, our apple tree
Is full of snow and ice
And rabbits come to visit it...
We think our tree is nice.
poem by Marchette Chute
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Nearness matters
It is not necessary that a woman
should be a sex appeal or a virgin,
or of some class to your desire.
Your nearness and her loneliness
can bring you both together soon.
Given time and secret moments,
The feat is accomplished in no time.
03.05.2001, Pmdi
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Too high is too dear
.
Your ebony skin outshines any brownish,
And your cashew apple, any apple.le.
Your warring teeth and queer lips intrigue.
Yes, you are hard owned, too high for others.
A queen allures
03.02.2001, Pmdi
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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A Dying Flower
Each Flower Petal Slowly Dying
Light Whispers Of Death
Hanging In The Brisk Afternoon Air
Lightly A Petal Floats Towards The Ground
A Gust Of Wind Quickly Whisks It Away
One By One The Flower Becomes Bearer
As Each Petal Vanishes.
The Day's Become Darker
The Nights Lighten
And The Flower Becomes Lonely
Till Eventually Only A Stem Remains
To Show It's Cycle Of Life.
The Flower Willows Towards It's End
The Petals Become Scarce
What Once Used To Be A Colour Delight
Now Hangs In Deaths Mist
As An Emerald Waiting...
Waiting For The Last Petal To Die.
Finally The Emerald Stem Dies Away
And Slowly Decay
For Again One Day
It Shall Show Its Colours
And Whistle In The Wind
With All It's Petals In Full Bloom...
poem by Ian Humphreys
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Sonnet- the Condom
Thanks to the latex-sheath that man has made!
His sex remains safer, quite natural;
But human STD’s can never fade;
Condoms are messy, costly and mural.
Through circumcision, man removes ‘fore-skin’!
And mutilates the female genitals!
And machines vend condoms to kith and kin;
As though it can protect all guys and gals.
Is not the condom unphysiological?
And youngsters blow it up like a balloon!
Who cares if it gives way, illogical?
Man says ’tis not a bane; it is a boon.
The latex sheath has helped adultery;
And keeps the fleshy trade going merry!
poem by John Celes
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You shade your shadow.
When I think of moon
its waning does not come to my mind.
When I think of fish
its thorn does not come to my mind.
When I think of my longevity
its gravity does not come to my mind.
When I think of you, dear,
your lure discounts your evasiveness.
Be a tree. I want shade,
not any flower, fruit or seeds of you.
04.05.2001, Pmdi
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Queen Anne's Lace
Her body is not so white as
anemone petals nor so smooth--nor
so remote a thing. It is a field
of the wild carrot taking
thefield by force; the grass
does not raise above it.
Here is no question of whiteness,
white as can be, with a purple mole
at the center of each flower.
Each flower is a hand's span
of her whiteness. Wherever
his hand has lain there is
a tiny purple blossom under his touch
to which the fibres of her being
stem one by one, each to its end,
until the whole field is a
white desire, empty, a single stem,
a cluster, flower by flower,
a pious wish to whiteness gone over--
or nothing.
poem by William Carlos Williams
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The Laughing Apple
Slowly let me tell you a story of a tree
An apple tree,
Once in a summertime garden lived a little apple tree
And the man who owned it wanted it to be picked
So he sent forth to hire me
Well, Ive travelled the mountains, and Ive travelled the sea
But a never in my travelling days
Have I ever seen a little apple smile at me!
Laugh, oh laugh a little apple
Autumn is waitin, youd better be careful,
For it will bring you down
If it ever sees you wearing a frown
So laugh, laugh a little apple
Well all the apples were hidin
Frightened that they might be plucked
And everytime that somebody passed
All except that one little apple ducked
Well, Ive travelled the mountains, and Ive travelled the sea
But a never in my travelling days
Have I ever seen a little apple smile at me!
Laugh, oh laugh a little apple
Autumn is waitin, youd better be careful,
For it will bring you down
If it ever sees you wearing a frown
So laugh, laugh a little apple
song performed by by Cat Stevens
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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First Love
you had swept back your bangs for the first time
when I saw you under the apple tree
the flower-comb in your hair
I thought you yourself were a flower too.
you stretched out your pale white hand gently
giving me an apple:
like the ripening red of the autumn fruit
my first feeling of love
my sigh, without any awareness
touched your hair
the joys of love's offerings
drinking your love...
under a tree in the apple orchard
nature's narrow road
who left this token here?
your question gave me a piercing pleasure.
poem by Shimazaki Toson
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Once accustomed, comfort is there.
A risky burrow is O.K to a rabbit.
A shaky nest is O.K. to a sparrow.
My humble hut is enough for me.
I have no plan for a Villa.
Fish swim, ducks wade,
Walruses sledge and eagles fly.
I have a bicycle to move by.
I have no plan for a car.
Then why should I work
hard and hard and earn,
with no time to lie and yawn?
20.04.2001, Pmdi
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Bring Me
Bring me a
apple
from the apple
tree
Bring me a
Fish
from the fishing
hole
Bring me
ANYTHING
and i will be
happy
poem by TayShea Simmerman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I am your Flower
a beautiful flower waved in the wind
bent with the breeze.
you came along, and, noticed it.
stooping down to kneel in the dirt,
you examined its petals
felt its delicate leaves.
you picked the flower,
broke its roots,
and placed its unchained stem into your clasped hand.
you carried the flower with you
showed it to friends, acquaintances,
made everyone take notice
of the beauty you found.
and strangely enough,
this flower did not wilt,
but remained strongly vibrant
in its glass of water
as you carefully attended to it.
yet as the year continued,
you worried and wondered
if maybe your choosing of this flower hurt it.
was it meant to be connected with the earth?
should you have stood and turned away
without choosing this flower
and picking it up for your own?
was your breaking of the stem a mistake?
should you have left it?
these questions filled your mind.
yet your flower remained vibrant and strong
in her glass of water.
confined, no, now free.
and freedom brings its own nourishment.
nourishment that cannot be found
attached to the ground.
you chose the flower above the rest,
and picked her to be yours.
will you keep me?
you have freed me.
my glass of water is refreshing.
your hand clasping my stem is enough
for me to stay and choose you
above the sun, more than the soil,
i cannot wilt if you take care of me as you have.
for a broken stem and a chosen flower
cannot be returned.
i must be kept or left to die.
poem by Lors Dilouley
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~ My Hidden Stem ~
I give you my rose, yet you see it so beautiful all around, the petals so blooming and so lovely, but look at the stem which is my stem, the green root of nevergazing attractivness, that which is hidden, that which is the real and genuine beauty, my nights of eternal desire lie within the stem, but you only see the outside beauty of the painted red petals, the power, the force, the passion, the fountain that spring forth the lifted rose, is found on my stem. For beauty can be easily found, but sheer beauty is not, and you must find me and travel as deep, as lenthly and beyond.
poem by Dandy leo jr.
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Wants are stronger than love
A flower in a vase, I love.
But one in garden, I want.
An apple bought, I love.
But one plucked, I want.
A puppy in-door, I love.
But the one next door, I want.
A parrot in cage, I love.
A mina outside, I want.
A diamond on finger, I love.
But the one on nose, I want.
The music from media, I love.
But the one in person, I want.
A print of an actress, I love.
But that of my sweetheart, I want.
The woman who cares, I love.
But the one who I care, I want.
Dear, you are intangible.
Dear, I want you terribly.
18.04.2001, Pmdi
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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For Veronica, Instead
For centuries, poets have been getting it wrong.
They bring 'one perfect rose' to show their love
to their lovers, but now I think
they were mistaken.
I saw a rose today growing
behind the fence of someone's backyard.
The bloom was yellow edged with red
with the obligatory dew glistening on the petals,
the bud pouting open high in the green bush,
so I bent the branch down to me.
There I was on the sidewalk, the flower fresh in my hand
but forgive me.
I couldn't bring myself to snap the stem of the rose
so you could watch petals dropp for days
in the slow dying
displayed in a jar on the kitchen table.
Love is nothing like a dead rose anyway.
The florist will never tape this poem to his cash register
to sell flowers now,
since I left the rose among green leaves.
Instead, I bring you these words,
alive,
just like the rose.
poem by Eric Paul Shaffer
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Bored
Hear me spit on you, wither i
Remold into gold and bury I from - sun
Reborn left to sigh, recure maybe ill
Be born and simplify - the way I lie - before
I get bored, I get bored, I get bored Im bored
Repent by you and trust to figure out
I burn that gift to you - doll and let it shine before
I get bored, I get bored, I get bored, I wish for a real one
Fit and confide, before me or i
I will come clean, it gets worse - its more
Get bored, I get bored, I get bored, a wish for a real one
Get bored, get bored, get bored, I wish for a real one
song performed by by Deftones
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The boy and the apple tree
Once there was a boy who used to play under an apple tree
He played so happily that it was a joy to see
As he grew old, he got bore of playing alone
Toys and gadgets he desired to be his own
So, under the apple tree the boy muttered
‘Tree can you give me toys I now desire? ’
‘Toys I don’t have, my boy, ’ the tree replied
‘But my fruits you can sell to get your toys.’
So the boy took the fruits and went away
The tree waited for his return day after day
Many years had passed and the boy got older
He married a girl to be his wife and lover
The adult boy now needing a new house for his family
Went to the tree and asked for its advice earnestly
The tree glad to see him once again said
‘My branches will be sufficient to make your nest.’
To these words the adult boy listened
And took all the branches away with him
With these he constructed a house for his family
Where he lived for several years happily
One day, the boy now a fully mature adult thought
‘It will be wise to travel around and sail the sea across’
So, he went to the now old apple tree and asked
‘Tree, can you tell me, a boat, where I can get? ’
The tree which was happy to see him again sighed and said
‘Though I am old, my stem you may take if you want’
On hearing this, the guy cut the tree down
And made a large boat, which was fine and strong
Many years had passed and the guy now became an old man
Tired from his adventures across the sea and land
He went and saw the apple tree once again
Which was now but a stump nobody would want
The old stump on seeing the old man cried
‘My old boy what can I do for you this time’
The old man on hearing this softly replied
‘I just want to lean against you till the end of my life.’
poem by Henry Chen
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Elders count
Elephants roam in groups of male and female.
Giants and the gallant old ones take lead from males
To corner the young females to have coitus.
Youth and energy give way to age and dominance.
Pupils beam in groups of lads and lasses.
They are locked in with infatuation.
The teacher hooks the best for consummation.
Physique and spirit give way to skill and security.
Though old a man is,
to him not cold she is.
04.01.2001, Pmdi
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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