Jesus Curses A Fig Tree
Today the apple tree unfurled its spring leaves,
green flags waving in the western breeze,
triumphant yet again over withering winter.
I see small apples, unripe bulbs,
clusters of sweetness,
promised, yet undefined;
imagination or memory
is required to taste that fruit today,
but I'm not hungry
and not on my way
to the rapacious city.
I will wait.
poem by Steven Federle
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The Apple Tree Greed
he has an apple a green apple
he is the only person in this room
with a green apple
suppose suppose NOW
he has MORE of those at home
WHY he has a GREEN APPLE tree
In his backyard no WAIT
He has a vineyard behind his chapeau
And he makes green apple wine
And he sells it to the BOONES FARM people
And they make BOONES FARM green apple wine
And the whole city is soon sick
The children ralf and barf and ralf again
There is no more end to the men
Drinking all the green apple wine
To make this ONE person rich
He never offered me any of his wine
Eyes never drink of alcoholic beverage
Eye have juices and tea and a soda please
I'm just full of good intentions
Picking green apples in my mind and eating way too many
Having a green apple with mye lunch of poetical decay
WAIT he left and YES he took the green apple core with him
Not leaving me a bite not wanting me to taste the pleasure
of his mite. Why eye understand him greedy is his name
the green apple hoarder has so many apples now his wine cellar is so full and his larders aer so rich he does save the stems and seeds to plant again in ground so rich and he chews on this green apple while he watches MTV in selfish hedonistacal revenge while eye have no green apple stuck between my teeth OH bliss oh strang decay my teeth at least aer happier today he took the core away he left me all alone im appleless today im happier to say no song is being sung of little apples of the green variety been hung oh see the tree how big its grown the apples have been lost too long and they fall in misery from branches of decay to rot to rot to rot upon the vineyard floor there is no apple wine no more the green variety is gone they drink it only read and red is the color of the wine in cups so full of color there in plates so heaped of agony with applesauces vailiantly piled higher then the sky.
poem by Parme Hice
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The Cat and The Apple Tree
A house in the garden
Un-robed compound
Dried leaves stretched out
Under an apple tree
Ripen apples fell down
And on the tree like bulbs
Being rotten lied on the floor
Making a quite picture
Leaves fall one by one
Letting to be naked
Surrounding nature gets ready
To warm up the winter
Through a side opened window
An old cat was sitting on the sill
Saying something to ins and outs
On one cannot understand
Postman comes and puts into the box
On one comes to open it
A rain with a rough wind last night
Ruined the apple tree
poem by Udaya R. Tennakoon
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Unripe Apples don't fall
Take time to prepare
and develop your idea
Norture it with care
This is my call
Unripe Apples don't fall
Unless you shake the tree
Standing tall
A bitter fruits taste
Only goes to waste
Like a rotten Apple
Down to the core
Try to dedicate
Think Straight
Proceed with emotions
Before your new introduction
An Apple has five seeds
Clear out all the weeds
This is my call
Unripe Apples don't fall
Unless you shake the tree
Standing tall
Copyright 2005 - Sylvia Chidi
poem by Sylvia Chidi
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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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The Riddle Of That Small City (For Singapore)
in that small city
i promised myself
i can take whatever it is
in one day
whatever it is
is still actually undefined
and what is undefined
is always exciting
for it amounts to
anything goes
what falls on my head
like a Forest Gump feather
in that small city
is always welcome
and what was undefined
and what was so exciting
was finally
done
you'll never know what it is
because you have read this
to understand and best
understand the undefined
means you never have
to read whatever it is
it is after all
undefined and yet
i must assure you
it will, and will always be exciting
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Crossed Apple
I’ve come to give you fruit from out my orchard,
Of wide report.
I have trees there that bear me many apples.
Of every sort:
Clear, streaked; red and russet; green and golden;
Sour and sweet.
This apple’s from a tree yet unbeholden,
Where two kinds meet, -
So that this side is red without a dapple,
And this side’s hue
Is clear and snowy. It’s a lovely apple.
It is for you.
Within are five black pips as big as peas,
As you will find,
Potent to breed you five great apple trees
Of varying kind:
To breed you wood for fire, leaves for shade,
Apples for sauce.
Oh, this is a good apple for a maid,
It is a cross,
Fine on the finer, so the flesh is tight,
And grained like silk.
Sweet Burning gave the red side, and the white
Is Meadow Milk.
Eat it, and you will taste more than the fruit:
The blossom, too,
The sun, the air, the darkness at the root,
The rain, the dew,
The earth we came to, and the time we flee,
The fire and the breast.
I claim the white part, maiden, that’s for me.
You take the rest.
poem by Louise Bogan
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The City is Short Today
The city is short today
and it can’t be anymore
than just a few blocks wide today
and the city is grey today,
grey and cold
and the city is short today
the skyscrapers,
only a few inches tall now,
sway back and forth,
caught in the grasp of a
sharp, cutting wind,
the sky scrapers rankle me today
and the city is short today
and the people walk about today
like zombies,
tiny zombies,
their faces and clothes
lack any colour,
and they resemble ants,
they wait on the street corner,
waiting for a miniscule bus
to take them out of this
tiny city
and the city is short today,
and grey
and cold
and small,
so very small
and yet, it towers over me.
Copyright (C) MMIV (2004)
poem by Derek R. Audette
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Sweet Sour Apple Bites
Orchard of apple and variety
Here you come, the apples lover
Come sing and praise like always
'Shining around the skin
Your colour is my favorite apple
The fresh one
So is your taste'
Apples smile and sing
'If i am green
A sweet sour love
Bite one, bite two
Bite still
Taste me my apples lover
Taste my sweet sour love
I'm green and sour
Pluck me bite me my lover'
The hunter replies
Bite one and some
Tasted your sour love
Bite still because i am the apple lover'
Apples smile continue the song
'If i am red apple
Sweet and moist
Bite one, then two
Bite more
Taste my sweet life
I'm red and taste nice
Bite one bite some
Taste me sweet you will like it'
'Green or Red
Bite sweet or bite sour
I must love you my apples
simply because...
I am the true apple lover'
Explained hunter
Sweet red or sour green
Sugar rich energy will reach your heart sooner
Running in your blood and pump the beat so dear
'O apples my dear i grow you in orchard to be with me so near'
Confessed by gardener, before apple answered
'You work hard and love so sincere, will fruit you love every year'
Bite one, sweet or sour everyday
Promise keeps you away from doctor
Bite one Bite some Bite all say the lover
Energy, Protect you always said apple
If you love something, make it further
This is what apple and hunter tell you, No Fears
Credit to Ahmed Khaled to point some issues of apples
so what i can say here it was inspired by Ahmed Khaled and fair to say this is our collaboration. Took of the chance to dedicate this poem for Steve, Co founder of Apple...All his courage to chase his dream is what i really called as an apple lover...
Meaning of this poem,
I want to talk about 'Do what you want' choose what you like
It's not all about apples, it is about...if you have a dream (your future)
make it real either you taste it difficult or easy you will always enjoyed it
just like i tell you in the story, green or red, sweet or sour
the apple hunter/gardener still like it, why simple cause the hunter like it
..As you know what you like and nod for the challenge, you will
get satisfied with what are you having, doing...it's your favorite choice
..Include the words 'An apple a day keeps doctor away' hoping you
understand, you will safe and satisfy if you choose the path you like
and you will safe from regret..Chase your dream :) _Unwritten Soul
poem by Unwritten Soul
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Redbud Peeks
Redbud peeks
Beyond the showy white dogwood.
The wet Spring breeze blows soft,
As the thick smoke clouds race low across
The unseen sky.
Rust pink maple seeds
And Spring green leaves,
Shudder among the dark green pines.
The whistling wind and waving tawny grass
Bid the last Winter cold, 'Be gone! '
Let the warmth of Spring day sun arrive. 'Goodbye! '
(4.13.9 Waterfall)
poem by Heather Z. Hanna
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August The Thirtieth
The sky overcast the rain comes down in drizzle August the thirtieth the date of today
This time tomorrow yes this time tomorrow Spring will be just a few hours away
Some birds are nest building others on their eggs sitting male magpie is piping on the stringybark tree
At this time of year he attacks without warning even humans who venture near his territory.
The clock on the Winter is ticking and ticking time on anyone or anything does not wait
Fragile pink blossoms on the fruit trees in the garden such things of beauty that Nature create
Spring brings her youth to this Southern Country spreading her greenery everywhere she goes
Wildflowers by the creek are coming to bloom now pink on the buds amongst the thorns of the rose
August the thirtieth the Winter is dying Spring is a beautiful time of the year
White flowers in clusters amongst the pittosporums the flute of the butcherbird pleasant to hear
Everyday nearer to bloom and to sunshine the year one might say fast aproaching it's prime
Winter is dying the year's coldest Season Spring brings her green with her fresh and warm clime.
August the thirtieth the second last day of the Winter rain fall in drizzle from an overcast sky
Pink flowers are fading upon the camellias blooms of the Winter in early Spring die
The Goddess of Spring she is quickly approaching over the cliffs of the southern bay
On this time tomorrow from this Southern Country she will be only a few hours away.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Nearly Ripe
Nearly ripe, these green apples
hang heavy
from our bursting tree,
the warm evening sun
glinting through swaying branches.
They will be ready
in about a week.
Then I’ll slice them into sweet crescents
And their taste will dance upon your tongue
with all the secrets our tree has been keeping,
its living leaves,
its smooth, grey bark,
its very roots
grasping deep
into our dark soil,
and these glowing, green apples
I will make bare and white and moist,
a love offering like perfect wine for you,
and your taste will delight
in the sweet, green love
of the earth.
poem by Steven Federle
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Today A Back To Winter Day
Today a back to Winter day a chill is in the breeze
In early Spring in Victoria we do get days of under fifteen degrees
Today between the heavy showers a brief burst of sunshine
Yet compared to the heavy rains of yesterday today seems even fine.
September came in with a sunny smile only twelve days ago
But the past few days seem so different it seems cold enough to snow
Old Winter goes into early Spring some have been known to say
In that assumption there's some truth or so 'twould seem that way.
A pair of young red wattlebirds out of their nest unable yet to fly
Their parents utter their warning cries if danger lurks nearby
Each passing hour to them makes a difference tomorrow they might enjoy
With the help of their strengthening wings the freedom of the sky.
Today a back to Winter day though bursts of sunshine between the showers
And raindrops glittering in the sun on the beautiful wildflowers
Old Winter goes into early Spring and a chill is in the breeze
Though frail pink blossoms are in bloom on the nectarine trees.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Thought Frost Could Not Surprise Me
Robert Frost is one of the ones
That got me started
When the only poems I would read
Had to be assigned
'Read pages 21 to 28 and
on Monday be prepared
to discuss campare and contrast.'
Yeah - yeah more homework
Thank God Robert was in there
Somewhere between
Pages 21 to 28
I don't recall which one grabbed me
But he had me looking for more
On my own nothing due by Friday
We talked about doubt and
Dealing with death 'OUT, OUT-'
This was before I met Macbeth
Robert was talking to me
Not down at me
I thought I knew him
I've invited him to family funerals
'Reluctance' got him a ticket
To my great-grandmother's
'Bravado' to her daughter's
'Devotion' for my father
'Never Again Would Bird's
Song Be The Same' shared
With my mother aunts in chorus
Today he surprised me
Found some humor in there
That I had read over before
I tripped over his cow
'...IN APPLE TIME
As a very young youngster
I was at our family ranch
When it had cattle and apples
Part of my job
Was to keep them apart
Robert shows in this poem
He knew why better than I
While she the cow
May scorn 'a pasture
withering to the root.'
He knows what happens
When as he describes
'Her face is flecked with pomace and she drools
A cider syrup. Having tasted fruit.'
Don't look for Adam and Eve
Allthough they may have been on his mind
Get out of the way when 'She leaves'
the apples 'bitten when she has to fly.'
AKA The green apple dirties
That's what my great-grandmother
Called the affliction when I had eaten
Too many free apples off the trees
AKA The back door trots
Quickest way to the outhouse
It was more important
And not as funny when
A cow would get into the orchard
As Robert ends his poem
'She bellows on a knoll against the sky.
Her udder shrivels and the milk goes dry'
If it's taken me this long to get this
What hope is there for generations hence
Whoes apples all have bar codes on each one
In season they are not free
They are going to overthink this poem
poem by Tom J. Mariani
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New For Old
Bud blisters into life
Stretching for the light
Unfolding radiant green
Upturned palm to the sun
Life seeping in, breathing out
Green, Green so Green
Resurrected hope, so Green
Summer breeze stroking
Branches ebb and flow
Leaves so Green strong now
Fear not wind of change
Mellow summer turns
Green, green, green-yellow
Yellow area of dieing heart
Green lingers no more
Limp transparent yellow
Barely a breeze takes one
Fierce Hyde-like wind now
Cracking and ripping
Wind torn leaves fall
Life chords snapped
Death too early, still Green
Nourishment broken not ended
Seasons build up to tear down
To build up, to tear down
Leaves fall, Green leaves fall
And then some more
Until leaves are falling, falling
Trees and branches revealed
In the x-ray of autumn blast
Winter is coming
Winter is coming
Yellow pale yellow carpet
Beneath the naked tree
Yellow, mulchy brown
Once crisp leaves scatter
Green, yellow, transparent veins
Tired, half dead, leaves lose their grip
Join the autumn rain soaked mound
Providing new life to the roots
Old for new, New for Old
Seeds buried in death
Bring new life in Spring
In the end is the beginning.
poem by Adrian Wait
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A Fruitful Hill
Small works, Big City;
Big works, Small City;
Like the tale of two cities.
Here comes the Bride and the bridegroom,
True love is sweeter than honey;
I am on the fruitful hill with words.
Sauerkraut on my table,
true love is sweeter than the honeycomb;
Yes, a virtuous woman is a crown to her husband.
Apples of gold,
A kiss on the lips;
Beyond the River of Ethiopia.
Like the choicest vine,
Life on the fruitful hill;
The day of the wedding crowns it all.
The purple rain,
The purple cushion,
A fruit so sweet to my taste;
Refresh me with sweet apples.
The gold of Sheba,
The fruit of Lebanon,
Let the earth be glad around you;
Flaming fire,
Swarms of flies,
Let the heavens rejoice around you;
Big works, Small City;
Small works, Big City;
A tale of two cities with the love of a muse,
The humble shall see and rejoice always.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Apples
I am an orange man from an orange tree and,
I want to taste the fruits of your apple tree of love;
So prepare me a table so sweet for your apples.
My juice is orange and your love is from this apple tree,
So prepare me a nice table to taste some of your fruits!
Oh, how i dream to taste your sweet apples.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Got Your Heart...................
The sky seems so bright today
Why I float on the breeze today
People who never had a ray
Why are they laughing today?
Why the leaves dance with joy
I can hear what the flowers say
Did I change my route today?
Is it they who changed their way
Why things are so bright today
Why I smile all the day
Do you know what they say?
That I got your heart today
poem by Tara Acharya
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Today...
Today, the leaves were greener
Today, the sky wasn’t grey
Today, the sun was brighter
Yes, it changed today
Today, people transformed
Today, they weren’t rude
Today, I felt loved
All just today, it’s true
Today, I lived for today
Today, was not for the future
Today, was a great day
Not menial, tiring, brutal
Today, I laughed in silence
Today didn’t make me cry
Today, everything became clearer
But, today, I couldn’t figure out why
And today, if everything changed
And today, if it wasn’t a dream
I don’t know what happened
But today will become everyday, it seems.
poem by Shreya Madhogarhia
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Apple Seed
Spring is here
love it so dear.
Being an apple seed,
and doing my good deed.
Keeping the doctor away,
for many years this tree will stay.
Just waiting for picking time
and watching workers as they climb.
Seed to apple so sweet
working so hard what a feat.
Apple cider to apple pie,
selling apples for people to buy.
Being an apple seed
and doing my good deed.
Being picked off this tree
from this place I will flee.
wrote 4-30-07
The Boys And The Apple-Tree
As William and Thomas were walking one day,
They came by a fine orchard's side:
They would rather eat apples than spell, read, or play,
And Thomas to William then cried:
'O brother, look yonder! what clusters hang there!
I'll try and climb over the wall:
I must have an apple; I will have a pear;
Although it should cost me a fall!'
Said William to Thomas, 'To steal is a sin,
Mamma has oft told this to thee:
I never have stolen, nor will I begin,
So the apples may hang on the tree. '
'You are a good boy, as you ever have been,'
Said Thomas, 'let's walk on, my lad:
We'll call on our schoolfellow, Benjamin Green,
Who to see us I know will be glad.
poem by Ann Taylor
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