Encounter
Those who have touched it or been touched by it
Or brushed by something that the vine has brushed,
Or burning it, have stood where the sly smoke
Has touched them-Know the meaning of its name.
The leaf is smooth. Its green is innocence.
A clean, unblemished leaf, glossy when young.
A leaf the unobserving might overlook
And the observing find too prosperous.
I've seen a vine of it so old and crooked
It held a hen-coop in its grip, the stalk
Thick as a man's wrist. There it had grown,
Half out of sight, permitted, undisturbed.
Strangers to it, who on a autumn road
Have found a vine that swept a tree like fire
And gathered it barehanded and brought it home
For color, seldom gathered it again.
Some are immune and some have thought they were
And some, ever so cautiously with gloves,
Finding that it grew to near their homes,
Have tried to root it out and have succeeded
Except that something from the vine fastened
Upon their flesh and burned, and in a year
Or two the vine itself was there again,
Glossy and green and smooth and innocent.
My neighbor's cow grazing beside the road
Munches with joy (and almost with a smile)
The salad of its leaves, transmuting them
Into sweet milk that I will drink tomorrow.
poem by Robert Francis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
Strawberry Wine
He was working through college on my grandpa's farm.
I was thirsting for knowledge and he had a car.
I was caught somewhere between a woman and a child.
One restless summer we found love growing wild.
On the banks of the river on a well beaten path.
It's funny how those memories they last.
Like strawberry wine and seventeen.
The hot July moon saw everything.
My first taste of love oh bittersweet.
Green on the vine.
Like strawberry wine.
I still remember when thirty was old.
And my biggest fear was September when he had to go.
A few cards and letters and one long distance call.
We drifted away like the leaves in the fall.
But year after year I come back to this place.
Just to remember the taste.
Of strawberry wine and seventeen.
The hot July moon saw everything.
My first taste of love oh bittersweet.
Green on the vine.
Like strawberry wine.
The fields have grown over now.
Years since they've seen the plow.
There's nothing time hasn't touched.
Is it really him or the loss of my innocence.
I've been missing so much.
Like strawberry wine and seventeen.
The hot July moon saw everything.
My first taste of love oh bittersweet.
Green on the vine.
Like strawberry wine.
song performed by by Dixie Chicks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
A Tulip That Does Not Wilt
there is a vine, so green
i put on a vase
of glass, there is water
and pebbles
the vine grows some more
leaves
alive on the filtered light
from the window pane,
there is a red tulip that never
dies there
but also does not
grow,
that plastic one i bought
a year ago,
i do not remember having washed it.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Rebellious Vine
One day, the vine
That clomb on god’s own house
Cried, “I will not
grow
And, ‘I will
not
grow,’
And, I
will
not grow,’
And,
‘I
will not grow,’
So God leaned out his head,
And said:
‘You need
not
Then the vine
fluttered its leaves, and cried to all the winds:
‘Oh have I not permission from the Lord?
And may I not begin to cease to grow?’
But that wise God had pondered on the vine
Before he made it.
And all the while it laboured not to grow,
It grew; it grew;
And all the time God knew.
poem by Harold Monro
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Love On The Vine
I came home yesterday
To the love that I left behind
It seems Ive been far away, yeah
But I know that the berrys ripe on the vine
And I know that the grapes will soon turn to wine
Yes I know Ill be there just in time to love you
I guess I just ran away (I just ran away)
Tried to see what I could not find (what I could not find)
Its been a one act play, yeah
But I know that the berrys ripe on the vine
And I know that the grapes will soon turn to wine
And I know Ill be there just in time to love you
Ive been wasting time (wasting time)
With this old heart of mine (this old heart of mine)
Working it overtime, ah, ah, ah, ah
Just another blue day
Like the ones that I left behind
I know its easy to say, yeah
But I know that the berrys ripe on the vine
And I know that the grapes will soon turn to wine
Yes I know Ill be there just in time to love you
Oh and I know that the berrys ripe on the vine
And I know that the grapes will soon turn to wine
Yes I know Ill be there just in time to love you
Love you on the vine, oh on the vine
Love you on the vine, oh on the vine
I love you on the vine, oh on the vine, ah
On the vine, oh on the vine ...
song performed by by America
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
The Leaf And The Tree And The Roots
if i had to write it again
then i had to, as i must
let you fully understand
the true nature of a vine
the way the leaf swerves
with the wind to give itself
to a fateful fall, the one that
completes its existence as
a leaf to a tree, a part of
a whole, the way it must
settle on the ground and
be with the worms and rot
and fulfills the cycle of its
short existence, and by then
it tells the roots, i am a leaf
i am back and you must now
eat everything in me so i can
be with the bark again so i
can be a leaf again to a tree
that holds me back
and then for another time
lets me fall again.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A Coronal
WITH HIS SONGS AND HER DAYS TO HIS LADY AND TO LOVE
Violets and leaves of vine,
Into a frail, fair wreath
We gather and entwine:
A wreath for Love to wear,
Fragrant as his own breath,
To crown his brow divine,
All day till night is near.
Violets and leaves of vine
We gather and entwine.
Violets and leaves of vine
For Love that lives a day,
We gather and entwine.
All day till Love is dead,
Till eve falls, cold and gray,
These blossoms, yours and mine,
Love wears upon his head,
Violets and leaves of vine
We gather and entwine.
Violets and leaves of vine,
For Love when poor Love dies
We gather and entwine.
This wreath that lives a day
Over his pale, cold eyes,
Kissed shut by Proserpine,
At set of sun we lay:
Violets and leaves of vine
We gather and entwine.
poem by Ernest Christopher Dowson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Sonnet: Jesus, the Grape-Vine
“I am the Vine: You be its branch always.”
Jesus is succor and our nourishment;
Allow the sap to flow to bless your days;
There will be no defeat or punishment.
’Tis easy being branch with leaves and fruits;
We help the vine to grow luxuriously;
The starch that’s made makes sturdy trunk and roots;
The wine from grapes will soothe hearts curiously.
A broken branch will lose its life quite soon;
A leafless one is useless to the vine;
A fruitless one is bane and not a boon;
With God, we make our earthly days divine.
The vine is proud to make the best of wine;
With God’s will done, man’s soul looks rather fine!
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A New leaf
There’s a new leaf upon the Tree
A thousand, thousand have been before
In the life of this great tree
Yet, the Tree rejoices, and is glad
For there is a New Leaf upon the tree
The roots are deep, and hidden
Tis one tree from root to branch
And lives in and through each leaf
The hearts’ smile resurrected
Through the New leaf upon the tree
Like the stars of heaven
New leaves have been many
And so they all are One
For they all share the same root
Bless the New leaf upon the tree
Perfection in the Blessing
Joy released in tears of love
The strength in life will comfort
From root to God above
A New leaf upon the tree
Beauty, Truth, and life
Complete from root to branch
When life’s cycle turns
Leaves fall to nourish roots
And behold, a New leaf upon the tree
poem by Adrian Wait
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Love's Seasons
When the bees are humming in the honeysuckle vine
And the summer days are in their bloom,
Then my love is deepest, oh, dearest heart of mine,
When the bees are humming in the honeysuckle vine.
When the winds are moaning o'er the meadows chill and gray,
And the land is dim with winter gloom,
Then for thee, my darling, love will have its way,
When the winds are moaning o'er the meadows chill and gray.
In the vernal dawning with the starting of the leaf,
In the merry-chanting time of spring,
Love steals all my senses, oh, the happy-hearted thief!
In the vernal morning with the starting of the leaf.
Always, ever always, even in the autumn drear,
When the days are sighing out their grief,
Thou art still my darling, dearest of the dear,
Always, ever always, even in the autumn drear.
poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The unequal will depart
In some, a tree grows too tall for a vine.
In some, a vine is too long for a tree.
In both cases, the stunted are replaced
In a couple, when one outgrows the other,
The other is left out to be replaced.
It is inevitable.
04.12.2001, Pakd
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Little Man (Fun Poem 8)
There is a little man who stands on a shelf
He stares all day at a creeping vine
One day he will come alive
Climb down the vine
And runaway
With the sunshine
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Now, most dentist's chairs go up and down, don't they? The one I was in went back and forwards. I thought 'This is unusual'. And the dentist said to me 'Mr Vine, get out of the filing cabinet.
Creep
the vine underneath a thick foliage
always has a way of making itself seen
so slowly it creeps and climbs
the fence
each brick, each grill, each wall
the tendrils climb
and then when it finally sees the sun
it lets go its happy smile
through its little honeysuckles
i watch and felt the art of the tendrils
curling and curling sprouting and then
blooming.
There is a purpose, there is this vision.
I am keeping it. This vine.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Your smile
I dug deep into the root of a young tree,
and I hid your smile there,
I just wanted to keep it to myself,
away from the sad and evil world,
But I found it over the years,
in thousands of golden leaves,
who smiled discreetly at me in the sun.
I understood then that the world is more beautiful
thanks for your smile.
A leaf touched my lips and two smiles
they merged forever with the forest.
poem by Marius Alexandru (22 October 2020)
Submitted by anonym
Vote! | Copy!
Upon The Vine Tree
What is the vine, more than another tree?
Nay most, than it, more tall, more comely be.
What workman thence will take a beam or pin,
To make ought which may be delighted in?
Its excellency in its fruit doth lie:
A fruitless vine, it is not worth a fly.
Comparison.
What are professors more than other men?
Nothing at all. Nay, there's not one in ten,
Either for wealth, or wit, that may compare,
In many things, with some that carnal are.
Good are they, if they mortify their sin,
But without that, they are not worth a pin.
poem by John Bunyan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Green Branch
I want to be a green branch
In vineyards of the Lord
To grow in strength and beauty
As leaves to light unfold
To dwell close to the true vine
Refreshed by showers of faith
Amid a sea of flowers
No weeds, no seeds of wraith
I want to see the garden
That Jesus tends with love
The true vine of all living
Who blesses from above
I want to be a green branch
In vineyards of the Lord
To grow in strength and beauty
As leaves to light unfold.
poem by Liilia Talts Morrison
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Vines of Love
Two hearts beating as one
Entwined like a vine
The many colours of love's curling ends
Rolling fingers on canvas
Like soft gentle flaps of butterfly wings
Toe curling sighs of delight
Eating juiciest fruit from the vine
Creeping crawling whatever the calling
Under the moon's light
Twirling curling consuming
Caressing with words
Touching souls
Vine steadied around pillars of stairway
Love shading the night
poem by Persian Khushi
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Vine
I dreamed this mortal part of mine
Was metamorphosed to a vine,
Which, crawling one and every way,
Enthralled my dainty Lucia.
Methought, her long small legs and thighs
I with my tendrils did surprise:
Her belley, buttocks, and her waist
By my soft nervelets were embraced
About her head I writhing hung
And with rich clusters (hid Amoung
The leaves) her temples i behung,
So that my Lucia seemed to me
Young Bacchus ravished by his tree.
My curls about her neck did crawl,
ANd arms and hands they did enthrall,
So that she could not freely stir
( All parts there made one prisoner).
But when I crept with leaves to hide
Those parts which maids keep unespied,
Such fleeting pleasures there I took
That with the fancy i awoke,
And found (ah me!) this flesh of mine
More like a stock than like a vine.
poem by Robert Herrick
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Squash in Blossom
How lush, how loose, the uninhibited squash is.
If ever hearts (and these immoderate leaves
Are vegetable hearts) were worn on sleeves,
The squash's are. In green the squash vine gushes.
The flowers are cornucopias of summer,
Briefly exuberant and cheaply golden.
And if they make a show of being hidden,
Are open promiscuously to every comer.
Let the squash be what it was doomed to be
By the old Gardener with the shrewd green thumb.
Let it expand and sprawl, defenceless, dumb.
But let me be the fiber-disciplined tree
Whose leaf (with something to say in wind) is small,
Reduced to the ingenuity of a green splinter
Sharp to defy or fraternize with winter,
Or if not that, prepared in fall to fall.
poem by Robert Francis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Fairytale Thinking
My mind creates a twisted vine
and sometimes strangles a thought.
Did Jack and the beanstalk feel like this
with those beans he bought?
Oh that my mind would settle down
and let that vine disappear
I'd slay that Giant just like Jack
and never have to fear
anything.
poem by Edwina Reizer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!