A Mustard Tree
Sometimes an apology
is aesthetically necessary.
To excuse a moment of muddled
distracted preoccupation.
Even though or when inferably...
an apology is not necessary.
Such socially interactive afterthought
and commendable consideration.
Is a character forming trait
that can appease elevate.
A mere agitated mortal into
a person attaining great compassion.
These are mustard tiny seeds
of apparent insignificance.
From which the mighty
mustard tree may grow.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Related quotes
A Mustard Seed Develops Exponentially?
Sometimes an apology
is aesthetically necessary.
To excuse a moment of muddled
distracted introverted preoccupation.
Even though or when inferably...
an apology is not necessary.
Sometimes an apology
is absolutely necessary.
To excuse a moment of extreme stupidity
or faux pas various social misdemeanors.
Even when we may be absolutely innocent
framed misunderstood or sadly guilty as sin.
Such socially interactive afterthought
and kind commendable consideration.
Is a character forming trait
that can appease elevate beautify.
A mere agitated mortal into
a person attaining great compassion.
These are tiny mustard seeds
of apparent insignificance.
From which the mighty
mustard tree may grow.
‘The kingdom of the heavens
is like a mustard grain, ...
and becomes a tree, so that the birds
of heaven come and find lodging...'
poem by Terence George Craddock
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When You Touch Me
when you touch me
something in me grows
like a mustard
and then as Jesus once said
the mustard
becomes a tree and i am here
on top of everything
flowering fruiting
blooming ripening
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Margo Wants The Mustard
I watch her move up and down the beach, well
The fellows drool, but shes out of their reach, and
These are not a part of the scheme, but
Let them hope, and let them dream
So many dreams in the mind of the men, well
Come to life through a good one love
Margo walks in another place, well
Its in their minds, and its on her face
Some like it cool
Some like it hot
Some give a little
Some give a lot
Some wanna give everything that theyve got
Margo wants the mustard
Yeh, she needs a little spice
Margo wants the mustard
Then shell spread it on real light
Margo wants the mustard
Yeh, shell never ever stop
Margo wants the mustard
It will take her to the top
Shes only got to smile that way when
It lifts your heart, throws your troubles away, and
When she moves, well Ive got to say
This rhythm method goes a long, long way
Its in the bones, and its in the head
This precious thing has got to be fed, well
I shouldnt say, but it must be said
Its even better when its in your bed
Some like it cool
Some like it hot
Some give a little
Some give a lot
Some wanna give everything that theyve got
Margo wants the mustard
Yeh, she needs a little spice
Margo wants the mustard
Then shell spread it on real light
Margo wants the mustard
Shell never ever stop
Margo wants the mustard
It will take her to the top
(a wop bop a loo mop, a lop bom bom)
[classic es solo]
I cant explain what she motivates, but
Its all around, but its hard to relate
It must be close to heavenly bliss though
How I wish I could follow this and
Splashing out all over the place
Pour it all over the human race, yeh
I may be starting another sin, but
Sit right back, watch the fun begin
Some like it cool
Some like it hot
Some give a little
Some give a lot
Some wanna give everything that theyve got
Margo wants the mustard
Yeh, she needs a little spice
Margo wants the mustard
Then shell spread it on real light
Margo wants the mustard
Yeh, shell never ever stop
Margo wants the mustard
It will take her to the top
Margo wants the mustard
Yeh, she needs a little spice
Margo wants the mustard
Then shell spread it on real light
Margo wants the mustard
Yeh, shell never ever stop
Margo wants the mustard
It will take her to the top...
song performed by by 10 Cc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sonnet: The Mustard Seed
How great a power fills a mustard seed-
A miniscule sphere, packed with silent life!
That falls in soil right, turning tree to feed
Both beasts and human beings, in much strife.
What creative mind made the mustard seed,
That rudely wakened, sprouts to mammoth tree!
With multitude of leaves verdure indeed,
And branches which nest birds, so proud and free.
God’s Kingdom too is like a mustard seed
That grows infinitesimally big with time,
And houses righteous souls that always heed
To Maker’s code regardless of earth’s clime.
The beauty of Heaven is foretold thus:
So fathomless, that none should ever miss!
Copyright by Dr John Celes 2-2-2007
poem by John Celes
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Mustard field
One day while walking in a mustard field,
I found a swing hanging on a mango tree,
mustard flowers were swirling with breeze,
birds were singing on tree,
there I found a swing on mango tree,
its ropes were long and thick,
I rode on it,
it moved up in the air like a bird,
and return back to move up there,
I saw a well from up there,
and bird nest on tree on back in the air,
the swing was moving here and there,
it was not aware of who I am,
just it was giving me feeling divine,
without any question or discrimination,
I found joy to fill my heart and I lived that moment like a bird!
poem by Hemu Gupta
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Ballade 2
In Antwerp, Bruges, Ostend and Ghent
I used to order food with flair,
But in every inn to which I went
They always brought me, with my fare,
With every roast and mutton dish,
With boar, with rabbit, pigeon, bustard,
With fresh and with salt-water fish,
Always, never asking, mustard.
I ordered herring, said I'd like
Carp for supper at the bar,
And called for simple boiled pike,
And two large sole, when I ate at Spa.
I ordered green sauce when in Brussels;
The waiter stared and looked disgusted;
The bus boy brought in with my mussels
As always, never asking, mustard.
I couldn't eat or drink without it.
They add it to the water they
Boil the fish in and-don't doubt it-
The drippings from the roast each day
Are tossed into a mustard vat
In which they're mixed, and then entrusted
To those who bring-they're trained at that-
Always, never asking, mustard.
Prince, it's clear a spice like clove
can drop its guard. It won't be busted.
There's just one thing these people serve:
Always, never asking, mustard.
poem by Eustache Deschamps
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Sure I'll Accept Your Apology
Sure...
I'll accept your apology,
For something you accused me...
And now find that not to be true.
After years spending your time,
Slime-ing minds againgst mine!
Ruining relationships I had of all kinds.
And with just a brief apology...
You believe you are going to be freed,
Of your guilt?
Especially when it was done to me consciously.
Sure...
I'll accept your apology.
Will you accept my continued hatred for you?
Sincerely speaking,
Of course.
And with respectful brotherhood.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Apology for Her
852
Apology for Her
Be rendered by the Bee—
Herself, without a Parliament
Apology for Me.
poem by Emily Dickinson
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You Creative Types Are So Tempermental
You want me to apologize?
OKAY...
I apologize.
'What level of sincerity,
Was that apology? '
I would say...
Right between where I would put my foot.
And the words your ears would hear,
As they rolled off my tongue.
'I accept your apology.'
I am glad of that!
Because you would find my foot painful.
And those words rolling off my tongue...
Would be created just for you.
'But then again...
That doesn't sound too bad of an offer.
Do you mind if I returned your apology?
What did I say now?
Who cares!
Walk away.
You creative types are so tempermental.'
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Nonsense Is Just What It Is
Some folks are quick to say,
They meant no harm by their intentions.
And if harm was done...
An apology is extended.
I have a problem with that!
Since I know for a fact...
Few people sleep walk unconsciously.
Those who are conscious,
Know exactly what they do!
To who, why and for what reasons!
The rest of that nonsense is just what it is!
Pure BS!
People make mistakes!
And even those are consciously made.
Folks just don't like the exposure of being caught.
Believing it is easy to excuse what they do.
Like a ritual or a tradition of sorts.
An act is committed; an apology is given.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Mustard 'And' Pudding?
Climbing out the crib,
To take care of personal business...
Is taught.
And becomes a necessity.
A work ethic.
A game daily sought to play,
As a way of life to survive.
Thriving on lip does not cut the mustard.
It would be nice to have a team-mate,
To relay strategies.
But when one is taught to win,
Only those accustomed to hitting homeruns...
Get the attention.
Time is rarely given,
To those boasting of what they've done.
Action is the key to unlock doors these days.
'What do you mean by...
Thriving on lip does not cut the mustard? '
Show me your attempts of a wish to succeed.
I don't want to 'hear' about your expectations.
The proof is in the pudding.
'Mustard 'and' pudding?
Ugh!
I can see why you live alone.
That's a little too eccentric for me.'
You are not the one I am soliciting.
'Trust me...
I don't know which one of us is happier.'
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Choices
i prefer smooth peanut butter
to crunchy
mind you
crunchy is all right
but i prefer smooth.
i prefer strawberry jam
to raspberry
mind you
raspberry is tasty
but it's got all those seeds
and i prefer strawberry.
i prefer mustard
to mayonaisse
mind you mayonaisse has it's place
amongst condiments
but is likely to go bad
if left out to long
and poison everyone
so on the whole i prefer mustard.
i prefer cooked meat
to raw meat
for much the same reason
as i prefer mustard to mayonaisse
although it also has to do
with the fact that i don't
like my meat to bleat
or moo or make chicken noises (BAGOCK!)
when i eat
so i tend to avoid the raw
though mind you
the meat that i prefer
may at some time have been raw.
i prefer not to say
why i think so
but i do
and i suppose it's all
just a matter of taste
so if you'd prefer to think so
then crunchy is better
than smooth
even if it does interfere
with the texture of the
peanut butter
and jelly (strawberry) sandwich
which ought to be somewhat
devoid of substance
merely a sticky sweet something
to fill your stomach
put mayonaisse on it
if you like
i'd prefer not to think about it.
poem by Laura Sewell
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Saving the mustard seeds that are in your hand might cause you to miss out on getting a watermelon.
Never ruin an apology with an excuse.
quote by Kimberly Johnson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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An Apology To The Reader Who Has Written Me A Message I Have Not Answered
AN APOLOGY TO THE READER WHO HAS WRITTEN A MESSAGE TO ME I HAVE NOT ANSWERED
The real apology is not this poem
It is one by one
Reader by reader
Answering each one
Who has ever written me.
It is reading all the poems of others
I do not want to say
A ‘real no’ or a ‘false yes’ to.
It is opening myself
To perhaps a true friend
To perhaps one whose writing
I see better than my own.
The real apology
Is in opening up to the poems of the many unknown others.
Will I do this
Will I give it the time
When I already am guilty
Of not using my limited time
To correct my past work?
Dear Reader,
I apologize, I do not know.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Saving mustard seeds in hand, while a watermelon escapes.
What I Appreciate
I appreciate
A person who acknowledge
His or her mistakes
I appreciate a person
Who apologizes
And doesn't hesitate
I appreciate
A person who makes
You believe
What they say because
They mean it truly
I appreciate
A person who keeps their word
After all it's what I deserve
I appreciate
A person who's apology
I can accept
Because it will be sincere
And I can forgive and forget it
I appreciate
Having someone I admire
It is my desire
I appreciate a person
Like this I would
Be truly flattered
For it's important
And to me it matters
So I know you are wondering
Can I do the same thing.....
Absolutely
poem by Tameeka Smith
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Qualified Apologies
QUALIFIED APOLOGIES, HONESTY, RULES, AVOCADOES AND PILSNER URQUELL
Any qualified apology is no
apology. If it comes with defense,
the moral high ground always turns into the low,
weighed down because you're sitting on a fence.
If being honest is the goal, you must unzip
to what you reckon is the deepest level;
but say tomorrow what you say today; don't flip
or men may rightly think you are a devil.
You must restructure rules to fit your deepest need,
for rules are made in order to be broken.
Any person who to stupid rules pays heed
to reality has hardly woken.
Avocado's like a perfect argument,
providing all a back-up that is great.
Both of them appear to be from heaven sent,
though both when rotten tend to nauseate.
I don't expect all people to appreciate
my work, although I never write a dud.
Some people don't appreciate what's really great,
instead of Pilsner Urquell drinking Bud.
Cal Fussman interviews Mary Louise Parker in Esquire,12/15/10, and tells him, inter al:
'I'm sorry, but...' — no. A qualified apology is not an apology. I can forgive most anything. But I won't forgive anything if it's defended. That's just weakness.
If being honest is the goal, I can unzip to a pretty deep level. But what you get today is not necessarily what you'll get tomorrow.
I like to restructure the rules to make them fit my own needs.
Avocado is the perfect food. It's so substantial. So rich. There's something sensual about an avocado. You peel it and then you have to scoop out the rest and kind of lick it. Avocado makes everything better. A burger. A sandwich. It's support. It just backs everything up.
I don't get tired of hearing that somebody liked my work. I'm not for everyone. If I were a beer, I definitely would not be a Budweiser.
5/16/12 #10240
poem by Gershon Hepner
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Seeds
in the fertile fields of our beings
tiny seeds are sown
and they always grow
and become flowers
they also exude scent
and display bright colors
to the sun
and they wilt before
we know it
simply because we are too busy
we could have given
these seeds enough time
to see how they become
themselves
so beautifully that we could
have adored them
even in a single moment
a very brief moment
yet we didn't and now we are sad
in this regret
this reminiscing
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Seldom Will It Be Heard
Seldom will it be heard,
From those who excuse everything they do...
An admission of doing anything to provoke others,
With an acknowledgement based upon self examination.
Or an apology given to those they believe,
Should be understanding of their right to self indulge.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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