The Heist
Two grey-blue mockingbirds
alight on my cherry tree,
and set up their look-out;
the squatting male belches
shrill, harsh warnings, his
screeching song feigning pain
to make the gold-finch
and robin flee in alarm,
while Bonnie to his Clyde
picks at my ripe cherries and
knocks one to the ground;
flitting lightly down, she arises,
all Betty Boop
red lips pouting
between pointed beak,
as together they make their get-away,
high into the cottonwood,
beyond the reach of my constable cat,
to divide the fruit of their crime.
poem by Steven Federle
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Related quotes
Dads Cherry Tree
There was a large cherry tree in my yard
This tree t’was my dad ‘s favorite
And as the cherry tree grew up to thy sky
He did have a decision
whether or not to chop the tree down
Or risk it falling and killing him
For you see this old cherry tree did
Stand right over his bed
So if the wind kick up or lightning did strike
Would be his end for
The tree would fall and he would go
So unfortunately with the tree
So he would make great decision
And hopefully make it right
It took him many years and many a time
He thought’s the did spite
Him for the year’s went by and the cherry tree
Got more demised, nearer to the bed
As he would lay and begin to wonder
Will this take off my head
So as the year the did expire
Then He finally said
I will take the old tree down
Above my own bed
And the so alas the cherry fell
The tree would breathe its last
And be cut down to stump and be
Safe for dad once again
The tree was made low and the branches did go
Right into the meat smoker
But out of the ash cloud grew another
through the thorns and choker
the tree did live on in another a tree that grew
and so the tree was reborn
from a cherry, the trees great fruit
and so this little sapling grew and it grew
and it grew 1,2,3 foot by the crowing of the year
and so it grew and it got taller
as a little sapling then might or would do
and the tree got no smaller
as it grew to be as tall as dad and it was
staring him in the eye
he said we got to dig this up
look at the size
for you see the little sapling was right in my garden
and blocking the sunshine
so we dug and dug and dug
it took a lot of time
but finally we got up pulled it out of the ground
and moved to better spot
were it would live in peace and harmony
the place we set was not to hot
But it was not to cold either, it was
It was a nice spot with all
of the tree for the young cherry’s company
the tree grew very tall
And with it happy position that there was
it was a great sight
To see this cherry tree again live
And never have to fight
Now when my dad he did see this
he was so overjoyed
He had his cherry tree’s son and offspring
And never again did he toy
With planting or cutting down old cherry trees
He loved his tree so dear
That he would be indeed collecting all the cherries
And never wrong was he steered
poem by Timothy Young
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Cherry- Ripe
CHERRY-RIPE, ripe, ripe, I cry,
Full and fair ones; come and buy.
If so be you ask me where
They do grow, I answer: There
Where my Julia's lips do smile;
There's the land, or cherry-isle,
Whose plantations fully show
All the year where cherries grow.
poem by Robert Herrick
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Cherry Ripe
Cherry-ripe, ripe, ripe, I cry,
Full and fair ones; come, and buy:
If so be you ask me where
They do grow? I answer, there
Where my Julia's lips do smile;--
There's the land, or cherry-isle;
Whose plantations fully show
All the year where cherries grow.
poem by Robert Herrick
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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 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
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The Cherry Tree
The Cherry Tree
There was a Cherry Tree,
In our house at Number Three;
‘T was a variety from Singapore,
Presented by a friend, now no more.
On the western side of our house,
To be away from the straying cows;
It was planted—a sapling, rare,
And nurtured with ample care.
Soon with shoots it grew tall,
And was high above the compound wall;
Pride in us did surely swell,
To behold the tree growing so well,
Its branches now did spread and sprawl,
And to the next house too it did crawl;
Its shade permeated through to the hall,
And ushered in cool breeze to us all.
The white blossoms of the cherry,
Drew swarms of bees—so merry,
Raw green cherries then popped,
Which turned bright red and dropped.
The green tree with cherries so red,
Was like an ornament with rubies studded;
It was sure a splendid sight,
Even in the glow of the moon-lit night.
The cherry fruits tasted very sweet,
Though for some it wasn't a treat;
To crush a fruit ‘twixt your teeth'
A current of joy ran underneath.!
Many were the children of the street,
Who vied for the cherries so sweet;
They'd climb the tree, up to pick,
And fill their pockets till there were sick.
The crows would claim the tree their own,
And feed the nestlings with cherries grown,
Dawn would hail the cuckoo's spree,
With its sonorous call from atop the tree.
Under the shade of the cherry tree,
On the landing of stairs, with glee,
I've oft with it mute communion held,
And there, have many a poem, spelled.
This Cherry Tree, so much prized,
After eight years was much disguised;
Alas! It lost its branches and was browned,
With out-stretched limbs, to be razed to ground! .
The Cherry Tree is now no more,
As I pen this, I miss it as ne'er before;
But to eye its photograph, my heart does leap,
And a warmth in me does truly seep!
poem by Chandra Thiagarajan
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I Just Cut the Grass
I just cut the grass, and
the cat is checking out my work.
She’s critical, but helps out,
grazing contentedly on
sprigs of errant chaff
that I missed in my hurry
to finish. Clouds are gathering
on this cold, Holy Saturday.
Now I tarry in my webbed chair,
to sip a cold bottle of beer,
and wonder how green
the world has grown.
Knock-out roses pop
(their vermillion tips shout
in the more common green of fern and ivy)
and red cherries fill the green cherry-tree.
Soon from shattered shells
new birds will rise
as mockingbirds fly
to fill shrill beaks
with cherries.
poem by Steven Federle
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The Tree And The Branch
the tree looks
upon a branch
where a ripe
fruit is hanging
the tree says
it is mine
the branch say
i am holding it
the tree says
the branch too
belongs to it
angry about the
tree's greed
the branch lets go off
the ripe fruit
a hungry child
picks it up
and goes home
with a happy heart
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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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
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There Was a Cherry-Tree
There was a cherry-tree. Its bloomy snows
Cool even now the fevered sight that knows
No more its airy visions of pure joy --
As when you were a boy.
There was a cherry-tree. The Bluejay sat
His blue against its white -- O blue as jet
He seemed there then!-- But now -- Whoever knew
He was so pale a blue!
There was a cherry-tree -- our child-eyes saw
The miracle:-- Its pure white snows did thaw
Into a crimson fruitage, far too sweet
But for a boy to eat.
There was a cherry-tree, give thanks and joy!--
There was a bloom of snow -- There was a boy --
There was a bluejay of the realest blue --
And fruit for both of you.
poem by James Whitcomb Riley
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Ballad of Bonnie and Clyde
Bonnie and Clyde
went out for a ride
with the Devil for a guide.
In a hot V-8 Ford
they took off with a roar
machine guns by their sides.
Bonnie was neat
and very petite
and Clyde was a handsome guy.
They robbed banks and stores,
and gas stations galore,
thumbing their noses at
a world they decried.
But the law was enraged
and made plans to engage
the infamous duo someday.
And on May twenty-third
they found a way
to put an end to Bonnie and Clyde.
It was as lovers they died
sitting side by side
in a bullet-riddled Ford.
And so then it came true as Bonnie well knew
that both of them surely would die,
for that's what she wrote,
expressing no hope, in the
Ballad of Bonnie and Clyde.
poem by Kendall Thomas
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A Poem For My Friend Angel.....'bout Birds....[Nature observations; Personal]
I enjoy seeing birds at our backyard feeder,
And, from bushes and trees, hearing some birds that 'tweeeeeter'.
Tiny black seeds attract finches, which have the name ‘gold'....
Who flee from grey juncos which are larger and bold.
Flitting chickadees and 'tufted' titmice, from feeder, eat seed,
While, on the ground, sparrows, towhees, and doves often feed.
They scatter when a blue and white scrub jay flies by,
Or when, overhead, a prowling hawk they do spy.
Waxwings and robins come to pick some nearby berries.
'sorry birdies, ....we have neither grapes nor red cherries.'
Ravens, vultures, and gulls pass high in the air, while
Bushtits and 'hummers' come closer to my chair.
I don't see all these birds every week, but.....i've seen more,
And some non-feathered friends pause, not far from our door.
And when around me i see no animal creatures.....
I enjoy all the plants....that our landscape features.
poem by Bri Edwards
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Something Practical For Valentine
There sits, atop a cherry tree
a bird that badly needs to pee.
He's eaten cherries to his fill
and now is bloated, feeling ill.
Bird guts turn cherries into wine
for critics here, on Valentine.
And if the critics have the gout
the wine will drive the acid out.
I think that I shall never see
another fancy cherry tree.
Nor any bird, a cherry thief
who, bloated, aches for quick relief.
But the idea of cherry wine
gut-brewed just for my Valentine
is reminiscent of the gout
today is it, and I could shout!
I'm off now to the local shop
to get her present, a new mop.
poem by Herbert Nehrlich
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Andante, Andante
Take it easy with me, please
Touch me gently like a summer evening breeze
Take your time, make it slow
Andante, andante
Just let the feeling grow
Make your fingers soft and light
Let your body be the velvet of the night
Touch my soul, you know how
Andante, andante
Go slowly with me now
Im your music
(I am your music and I am your song)
Im your song
(I am your music and I am your song)
Play me time and time again and make me strong
(play me again cause youre making me strong)
Make me sing, make me sound
(you make me sing and you make me)
Andante, andante
Tread lightly on my ground
Andante, andante
Oh please dont let me down
Theres a shimmer in your eyes
Like the feeling of a thousand butterflies
Please dont talk, go on, play
Andante, andante
And let me float away
Im your music
(I am your music and I am your song)
Im your song
(I am your music and I am your song)
Play me time and time again and make me strong
(play me again cause youre making me strong)
Make me sing, make me sound
(you make me sing and you make me)
Andante, andante
Tread lightly on my ground
Andante, andante
Oh please dont let me down
Make me sing, make me sound
(you make me sing and you make me)
Andante, andante
Tread lightly on my ground
Andante, andante
Oh please dont let me down
Andante, andante
Oh please dont let me down
song performed by by ABBA
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ode to Clyde
CLYDE, CLYDE, CLYDE
YOU SURE GAVE ME A HECK OF A RIDE
CLYDE, CLYDE, CLYDE
YOU BUSTED MY PELVIS AND PRIDE
THREE DAYS OF RIDING BILLY THE BAY
LABOR DAY WEEKEND AND ANOTHER NICE DAY
I DECIDED TO TAKE MY OTHER HORSE CLYDE
AND THEN RESTED BILLY THE BAY
CLYDE, CLYDE, CLYDE
YOU SURE GAVE ME A HECK OF A RIDE
CLYDE, CLYDE, CLYDE
YOU BUSTED MY PELVIS AND PRIDE
I USE TO RIDE WHAT MOST MEN COULDN’T SADDLE
NOW I CAN’T SADDLE WHAT MOST MEN CAN RIDE
BUSTED AND BROKEN FROM THAT BUCKING HORSE CLYDE
CLYDE, CLYDE, CLYDE
YOU SURE GAVE ME A HECK OF A RIDE
CLYDE, CLYDE, CLYDE
YOU BUSTED MY PELVIS AND PRIDE
OH WHAT’S AN OLD COWBOY TO SAY
OH WHAT’S AN OLD COWBOY TO SING
WHEN HIS HORSE SENDS HIM HIGH ON HIS WAY
BUSTED AND BROKEN AND LAYING IN PAIN
NEVER SHOULD’VE TAKEN THE PAINT THAT DAY
SHOULD HAVE RIDDEN THE BAY.
CLYDE, CLYDE, CLYDE
YOU SURE GAVE ME A HECK OF A RIDE
CLYDE, CLYDE, CLYDE
YOU BUSTED MY PELVIS AND PRIDE
THAT’S OKAY CLYDE, YOU JUST WAIT AND SEE
THINK YOU’RE REALLY ALL THAT TUFF AND MEAN?
I’M MENDING BOY, AND JUST YOU WAIT FOR ME!
I’M GONNA RIDE THE HIDE
OFF THAT BUCKING HORSE CLYDE!
poem by Sunnie Bianco
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A Way To Live
a little fish rises from the
water to
eat a bubble of
air
from the tree a
kingfisher with an eye
for fish
swiftly dives and
with its sharp long black beak
catches the
little fish
a boy with a rubber sling
aims at the blue kingfisher
hitting it with a
stone crushing its
round head and
sharp long and black beak
to the ground
a ripe coconut falls
from a tree and
hits the head of the
boy below
the lizard that climbs
the coconut tree
looking for brown beetles
at the top
does not notice how
all these events
happen
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Cherry In Your Tree
Copyright 1993 emi virgin song inc. o.b.o.
Emi virgin limited
Composer: andy partridge
Andy partridge - vocals, guitar, percussion, claps
Colin moulding - bass, harmony vocals, claps
Dave gregory - good natured ghost effects
With
Brian doherty - drums
Garo yellin - cello
David yazbek - keyboards, backing vocals, claps
Sean altman - backing vocals
Produced by david yazbek
Chorus:
Cherry cherry in your tree
Jump down on the ground and make a pie with me
Cherry cherry in your tree
Jump down on the ground and make a pie with me
I got toys like the other boys
Come down from your tree now
I can set you free now
I got toys like the other boys
For baking love with you
For baking love with you
Chorus
Im the cook who wrote the book
Pour a little soul now
Right into the bowl now
Im the cook who wrote the book
On baking love with you
On baking love with you
Cherry in your tree now
Do you love just me now
Im the chef of the treble clef
Roll into the flour now
Knead it for an hour now
song performed by by Xtc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Grey Goshawk
There is a flutter in the trees,
And now a sudden, dread unease
Stills all the bushland melodies
Amid the gums;
Stills now the song of wren and thrush,
Robin and honeyeater hush.
Now, with a swoop, a whistling rush,
Grey goshawk comes.
I am the threat: the dread king.
Grim Azrael, is on the wing,
And every little living thing
Dares scarce a breath.
And now a parrot, shrill with fear,
Flies dodging there and doubling here
Thro' inlaced limbs, in mad career
From lusting death.
Grey ghost, grey death, I work my will
O'er forest dense, o'er wood hill,
And on some tree-top rend my kill
With reddened beak.
There is no have in the tree,
There is no habor safe from me;
In many a singing sanctuary
My meat I seek.
Beware! The swift grey ghost is out!
Be still! Grey death lurks near about!
Crouch close! Shrink low! ... But have no doubt
I've marked my kill.
Grim nemesis. I never fail;
Gaint hunger is my spur, my flail.
I feast. And now away I sail
O'er the far hill.
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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Purple Cherries
Fragile pink cherry blossoms
fall
that there be sweet purple
cherries in the fall
and each cherry seed
can make the world cherry treed
*********
inspired by muse
MuKaKo MuKaMo
poem by O. Anna Niemus
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Bonnie Cat
Bonnie cat o!
Bonnie cat... don't go away
Bonnie cat look! you make funny bunny crying,
Bonnie cat see it is cold and will not you
come and have me sleep in your warmth
Bonnie cat will not we play the strings of a piano together
one which made the days of summer like a swallow bird
humming into the chilly wintry nights in the command of a nightingale
Bonnie cat o!
Bonnie cat o!
Bonnie cat look i have carrot soup for you
Shall not we chase and try to fly like those duffy ducks
they now bully me bonnie cat
Bunny is so scored without you
Shall not we play in the sunshine meadows
and steal milk from the chocolate hut
Shall not you tell me again to run and get you the rainbow past you
Shall not we see the fountains emerge again and quench our thirst
Bonnie cat o!
Bonnie cat o!
Bonnie cat see our life lacks subtlety
without our sinewy power of bonding
Bonnie cat o bonnie cat!
Don't leave me for a panjandrum center
in your heart...cavort back dear!
See the bunny too have fish and chips for you
Flesh for your heart and not syringes made of bones
And heart for your flesh never ever in the mesh of bandages
Bonnie cat will not you come as Latin song
in satin clothes for my prayer's christmas gift
Bonnie cat o!
Bonnie cat o!
Bonnie cat look you made funny bunny no more irascible
In your zany droplets of fear which in i grew up
Bonnie cat without you i am lost in the turbine
where noxious gases take my breath away
It now stings like an urchin and groans like a swine
Is not it you testing my patience bonnie cat
Tell me bonnie cat don't walk away
Word does make an image of fascination
but pain does not when i convey am really in
Bonnie cat...
my sweet bonnie cat
Bonnie cat o!