The Mother Exultant
Joy! Joy! Joy!
The hills are glad,
The valleys re-echo with merriment,
In my heart is the sound of laughter,
And my feet dance to the time of it;
Oh, little son, carried light on my shoulder,
Let us go laughing and dancing through the live days,
For this is the hour of the vintage,
When man gathereth for himself the fruits of the vineyard.
Look, little son, look:
The grapes are translucent and ripe,
They are heavy and fragrant with juice
They wait for the hands of the vintagers;
For a long time the grapes were not,
And were in the womb of the earth,
Then out of the heavens came the rain,
The sun sent down his warmth from the sky,
At the touch of life, life stirred,
And the earth brought forth her fruits in due season.
I was a maid and alone,
When, behold, there came to me a vision;
My heart cried out within me,
And the voice was the voice of God.
Yea, a virgin I dreamed of love,
And was troubled and sore afraid,
I wept and was glad,
For the word of my heart named me blesse'd,
My soul exhalted the might of creation.
I was a maid and alone,
When, behold, my lover came to me,
My belove'd held me in his arms.
Joy! Joy! Joy!
Now is the vision fulfilled;
I have conceived,
I have carried in my womb,
I have brought forth
The life of the world;
Out of my joy and my pain,
Out of the fulness of my living
Hath my son gained his life.
Look, little son, look:
The grapes are ripe for gathering;
The fresh, deep earth is in them,
And clean water from the clouds.
And golden, golden sun is in the heart of the grapes.
Look, little son, look:
The earth, your mother,
And the touch of life who is your father,
They have provided food for you
That you also may live.
The vineyards are planted on the hillside,
They are the vineyards of my belove'd,
He chose a favorable spot,
His hands prepared the soil for the planting;
He set out the young vines
And cared for them till the time of their bearing.
Nopw is his labour fulfilled who worked with God.
The fruit of the vineyard is ripe,
The vintagers laugh in the sun,
They sing while they gather the grapes,
For the vintage is a good one,
The wine vats are pressed down and running over.
Joy! Joy! Joy!
Now is the wonder accomplished;
Out of the heat of the living grape
Hath the hand of my belove'd
Wrung the wine of the dream of life.
Belove'd,
My little son's father,
Together we have given life,
And the vision of life;
Shall we not rejoice
Who have made eternal
The days of our living.
Look, little son, look:
The grapes glow with rich juice;
The juice of the grape hath in it
The substance of the earth,
And the air's breath;
It hath in it the soul of the vintage.
Put forth your hand, little son,
And take for yourself the life
That your father and your mother
Have provided for you.
Joy! Joy! Joy!
The halls are glad,
The valleys re-echo with merriment,
In my heart is the sound of laughter,
And my feet dance to the time of it;
Oh, little son, carried light on my shoulder,
Let us go laughing and dancing through the live days,
For this is the hour of vintage,
When man gathereth for himself the fruits of the vineyard.
1905
poem by Adelaide Crapsey
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Related quotes
Eating and Drinking chapter VI
Then an old man, a keeper of an inn, said, "Speak to us of Eating and Drinking."
And he said:
Would that you could live on the fragrance of the earth, and like an air plant be sustained by the light.
But since you must kill to eat, and rob the young of its mother's milk to quench your thirst, let it then be an act of worship,
And let your board stand an altar on which the pure and the innocent of forest and plain are sacrificed for that which is purer and still more innocent in many.
When you kill a beast say to him in your heart,
"By the same power that slays you, I to am slain; and I too shall be consumed. For the law that delivered you into my hand shall deliver me into a mightier hand.
Your blood and my blood is naught but the sap that feeds the tree of heaven."
And when you crush an apple with your teeth, say to it in your heart,
"Your seeds shall live in my body,
And the buds of your tomorrow shall blossom in my heart,
And your fragrance shall be my breath,
And together we shall rejoice through all the seasons."
And in the autumn, when you gather the grapes of your vineyard for the winepress, say in you heart,
"I too am a vineyard, and my fruit shall be gathered for the winepress,
And like new wine I shall be kept in eternal vessels."
And in winter, when you draw the wine, let there be in your heart a song for each cup;
And let there be in the song a remembrance for the autumn days, and for the vineyard, and for the winepress.
poem by Khalil Gibran
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Wine Story
An Abridged Story of Wine
The bottom of the nave used to be a lake's bed, but one night,
when moon was white as search light and the sky maroon,
the lake vanished. Dead fish and toenail clippings at the bottom,
but the soil was rich, and the people who used to fish for a living,
planted vine which bore healthy grapes, but grapes fermented
and wine was discovered. A drink that made them merry, they
sang, slapped flat stones together and made music.
But if drinking too much they ended fighting and used stones as
missiles, and given to arguing about the quality of snow that fell
the year before. In clay pots they sold red wine and became rich,
till Moslems came, forbad the making of wine, they planted pale
yellow orange trees instead. But the juice of sweet blue grapes
has an unstoppable allure it fills heart with music, the production
was moved to hidden dells in Alentejo. When Arabs, defeated by
Christian hordes, fled; Iberia had abundance of red wine but also
sugary orange juice.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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Oh, FATHER! - FEEL MY Untold LOVE! (Part-1)
At schooltime, my father left me at house gringo!
Yet I Kept my tender heart at home of lingo!
When I quested, for fate “he is right as rain.”
Tender tears exploded like MISSILES yet in vein;
Mother, oh mother, I am still your little son!
Father, Oh father, I love thee till I am done!
While I missed mother’s love and father’s stories
All the night I stood without sleep with many worries
I asked the god, why two legs and hands!
Why not two bodies and two souls for errands!
Mother, oh mother, I am still your little son!
Father, Oh father, I love thee till I am done!
Sugarcane Juice, peanuts and berries!
Our green fields, summer holidays and holy tours!
When thousand memories flashes in mind, now,
How much I miss mom's care! How much I miss dad’s love!
Mother, oh mother, I am still your little son!
Father, Oh father, I love thee till I am done!
The small buns you bought for me still smell good,
The grapes brought, coming from city is still my favorite food;
The fruits you brought me with roots; are they heaven sent?
Yet I didn’t pay any rent pay as you are my parent!
Mother, oh mother, I am still your little son!
Father, Oh father, I love thee till I am done!
Do you know who my MAHATMA is? Oh, my brother!
He is not Mandela, nor Gandhi but my father
Who taught me A to Z rather?
What to do and what not to do, I gather!
Mother, oh mother, I am still your little son!
Father, Oh father, I love thee till I am done!
When I think of all the things you gave to me:
Your sacrifices in food; love and affection are some to name,
............................................. ................................................. .....
*A big NOTICE BOARD: Oops! Sorry the poem is NOT completed. This is just break time! Now continue Your reading in part 2 the poem.
Oh, FATHER! - FEEL MY Untold LOVE! (Part-2) contin'd in part 2.. Read it.
poem by Harindhar Reddy
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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
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0097 The vintage of a lifetime
As some sun-ripened vineyard-owner, rich
in slow maturing wisdom gained through time,
before that noble rot of trodden grape
yields untold harvest of a well lived life-
and proud that with his daily-tended skills
he'll win a vintage he will never taste -
so I, who seek to daily tend life's yield,
distil a vintage I shall never taste.
Mayhap some pencilled notes from wisdom's root
shall grow new generation's richer fruit.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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A Thought From The Rhine
I heard an Eagle crying all alone
Above the vineyards through the summer night,
Among the skeletons of robber towers:
Because the ancient eyrie of his race
Was trenched and walled by busy-handed men;
And all his forest-chace and woodland wild,
Wherefrom he fed his young with hare and roe,
Were trim with grapes which swelled from hour to hour,
And tossed their golden tendrils to the sun
For joy at their own riches:-So, I thought,
The great devourers of the earth shall sit,
Idle and impotent, they know not why,
Down-staring from their barren height of state
On nations grown too wise to slay and slave,
The puppets of the few; while peaceful lore
And fellow-help make glad the heart of earth,
With wonders which they fear and hate, as he,
The Eagle, hates the vineyard slopes below.
On the Rhine, 1851.
poem by Charles Kingsley
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The Pilgrims
Who is your lady of love, O ye that pass
Singing? and is it for sorrow of that which was
That ye sing sadly, or dream of what shall be?
For gladly at once and sadly it seems ye sing.
--Our lady of love by you is unbeholden;
For hands she hath none, nor eyes, nor lips, nor golden
Treasure of hair, nor face nor form; but we
That love, we know her more fair than anything.
--Is she a queen, having great gifts to give?
--Yea, these; that whoso hath seen her shall not live
Except he serve her sorrowing, with strange pain,
Travail and bloodshedding and bitterer tears;
And when she bids die he shall surely die.
And he shall leave all things under the sky
And go forth naked under sun and rain
And work and wait and watch out all his years.
--Hath she on earth no place of habitation?
--Age to age calling, nation answering nation,
Cries out, Where is she? and there is none to say;
For if she be not in the spirit of men,
For if in the inward soul she hath no place,
In vain they cry unto her, seeking her face,
In vain their mouths make much of her; for they
Cry with vain tongues, till the heart lives again.
--O ye that follow, and have ye no repentance?
For on your brows is written a mortal sentence,
An hieroglyph of sorrow, a fiery sign,
That in your lives ye shall not pause or rest,
Nor have the sure sweet common love, nor keep
Friends and safe days, nor joy of life nor sleep.
--These have we not, who have one thing, the divine
Face and clear eyes of faith and fruitful breast.
--And ye shall die before your thrones be won.
--Yea, and the changed world and the liberal sun
Shall move and shine without us, and we lie
Dead; but if she too move on earth and live,
But if the old world with all the old irons rent
Laugh and give thanks, shall we be not content?
Nay, we shall rather live, we shall not die,
Life being so little and death so good to give.
--And these men shall forget you.--Yea, but we
Shall be a part of the earth and the ancient sea,
And heaven-high air august, and awful fire,
And all things good; and no man's heart shall beat
But somewhat in it of our blood once shed
Shall quiver and quicken, as now in us the dead
Blood of men slain and the old same life's desire
Plants in their fiery footprints our fresh feet.
--But ye that might be clothed with all things pleasant,
Ye are foolish that put off the fair soft present,
That clothe yourselves with the cold future air;
When mother and father and tender sister and brother
And the old live love that was shall be as ye,
Dust, and no fruit of loving life shall be.
--She shall be yet who is more than all these were,
Than sister or wife or father unto us or mother.
--Is this worth life, is this, to win for wages?
Lo, the dead mouths of the awful grey-grown ages,
The venerable, in the past that is their prison,
In the outer darkness, in the unopening grave,
Laugh, knowing how many as ye now say have said,
How many, and all are fallen, are fallen and dead:
Shall ye dead rise, and these dead have not risen?
--Not we but she, who is tender and swift to save.
--Are ye not weary and faint not by the way,
Seeing night by night devoured of day by day,
Seeing hour by hour consumed in sleepless fire?
Sleepless: and ye too, when shall ye too sleep?
--We are weary in heart and head, in hands and feet,
And surely more than all things sleep were sweet,
Than all things save the inexorable desire
Which whoso knoweth shall neither faint nor weep.
--Is this so sweet that one were fain to follow?
Is this so sure where all men's hopes are hollow.
Even this your dream, that by much tribulation
Ye shall make whole flawed hearts, and bowed necks straight?
--Nay, though our life were blind, our death were fruitless,
Not therefore were the whole world's high hope rootless;
But man to man, nation would turn to nation,
And the old life live, and the old great world be great.
--Pass on then and pass by us and let us be,
For what light think ye after life to see?
And if the world fare better will ye know?
And if man triumph who shall seek you and say?
--Enough of light is this for one life's span,
That all men born are mortal, but not man:
And we men bring death lives by night to sow,
That man may reap and eat and live by day.
poem by Algernon Charles Swinburne
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In the hearts and minds of the people, the grapes of wrath were growing heavy for the vintage.
John Steinbeck in The Grapes of Wrath
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Mothers Day2007
She hath my heart, she is my mum.
She hath my heart, she is my only, she is my one.
She hath my heart, though rough winds may blow.
She hath my heart, still her love will flow, her love will always show.
She hath my heart, I thank my lucky stars.
She hath my heart and i have hers.
She hath my heart, i long for her presence.
She hath my heart, her name is essence.
She hath my heart and forever she will.
Lifetimes will come and go, i will love her still
She hath my heart, this fact i cant conceal
Our bond is like sentiment you just cant kill
She hath my heart in times of sorrow.
She hath my heart, yesterday, today and tomorrow.
She hath my heart, my voice will sing.
She hath my heart, she makes the bell in my heart ring.
She hath my heart, in times of trouble.
She wont stumble no i will not let her crumble.
She hath my heart in each and every way
And my love for her grows with each day
She hath my heart for we were once one.
She hath my heart, the heart of the boy inside the man
I hath her heart, the heart we once shared.
Though separated in body the hearts still paired.
She hath my heart i need her near.
She hath my heart my mama dear
She hath my heart and she already knows
In a world of thorny bushes she stands out like rose
She hath my heart for she is always by my side
When the sun sets she is my light, she is my guide.
poem by Soul Child
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Zorba
The tears are hiding behind
the corners of his eyes,
welling but held at bay.
The days are swelling
like the dead porpoise
shot in the head.
Rarely...meaning so much...
from love to good steak,
to your streak of good luck.
And I dreamed Zorba the Greek
said to me, 'If you eat grapes
you're left with the stems.
I'm left with the days of my life
and the grapes have all gone down
And all I have left
are seeds and stems.
poem by Midnights Voice
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If only.......
if only i can break my heart into pieces, you
will felt that my life lives only for you, and if
time has whispering a voice, then
everything will be mesmerized in the storage
of memories and all will come always to
realize that life is worthwhile to live
my life comes to witness the good and
wonderful things happening in your life, i am
made to hold on my love for you
i have live according to the will of the Father,
and that creation is nothing without you, you’re
the special one, who by fate has come to rescue
my life
I have been born to love you, even though
you are not what i wanted in my life, you have
come though i knew i never want to live
with you
Yes, if only i can turn the tide of the wind and
crumple the season of time, and there i can still
touch the birth of the skies, that in my heaven
nest i fall to rest
i take my hour that you’re in my side, dripping to
learn of what is life in the mudding dirt, so
harsh to live, yet so fulfilling to remember that
life is not but a melody to hold in my aging life
please know me, that comes what may my life is
only for you.....darling
poem by Antonio Liao
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A War Song Of Tyrol
'WILD eagle of the Tyrol,
Why are thy feathers red?'
'I 've been to greet the morning
On Ortler's crimsoned head!'
'Gray eagle of the Tyrol,
'T is not the morning light
Drips from the soaring pinions
That wing thine airy flight.
'Proud eagle of the Tyrol,
Why are thy claws so red?'
'I 've been where Etschland's maidens
The ruddy vintage tread.'
'Gray eagle of the Tyrol,
Red runs our Tyrol wine;
But redder ran the vintage
That stained those claws of thine.
'Wild eagle of the Tyrol,
Why is thy beak so red?'
'Go ask the gorge of Stilfes,
Where lie the Saxon dead!
'The grapes were ripe in August
Wherewith my beak is red;
The vines that gave that vintage
No other wine will shed:
My beak is red with battle;
I've been among the dead!'
poem by Silas Weir Mitchell
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Picture This: A Jig Saw Puzzle Of Life
a jig saw puzzle
parts cut exact
shaped pieces
what is this?
earth air fire water
soil atmosphere sun water
heat light living organisms
water liquid of rain rivers
life tears of sky mother
clean colourless odourless
in prime non polluted state
tasteless when pure
exist occur as rain snow ice
form rivers lakes seas
essential life elements
essential for life
essential is harmony
balance these your pieces
my beloved creator God
I marvel at complexity
water occurring naturally
picks up colour taste
substances in environment
imprint as God imprints life
paint palette canvas creation
paint landscapes multi universes
I echo creator I echo creation
in all my knowledge technology
science will obey God’s Laws
in understanding ecosystem
i will grow echo creator power
i created in God’s divine image
but echo God’s free given love?
this ego freak humanity fails to do?
ten commandments ten too many?
thus humanity proves fallen state
dies age decay imposes on all life
death sentence imparts to creation
this is Midas touch of fallen man
supposed golden touch is blessing?
transform apple food into energy
transform apple food into pure gold
when will you learn you cannot eat?
rocks diamonds silver gold money
behold earth rape earth is dying
what are major
parts
of an ecosystem?
an ecosystem includes
atmosphere heat light soil
sun supplies free energy
water living organisms
blessed life thrives
harmony of God’s laws
what is mystical
fifth element
love it be love
God loved
the world so much
God gave
his only begotten son
to teach impart wisdom
so man could reenter
paradise earth
love live love
enter paradise
poem by Terence George Craddock
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A Song Of Life
In the rapture of life and of living,
I lift up my head and rejoice,
And I thank the great Giver for giving
The soul of my gladness a voice.
In the glow of the glorious weather,
In the sweet-scented, sensuous air,
My burdens seem light as a feather –
They are nothing to bear.
In the strength and the glory of power,
In the pride and the pleasure of wealth
(For who dares dispute me my dower
Of talents and youth-time and health?) ,
I can laugh at the world and its sages –
I am greater than seers who are sad,
For he is most wise in all ages
Who knows how to be glad.
I lift up my eyes to Apollo,
The god of the beautiful days,
And my spirit soars off like a swallow,
And is lost in the light of its rays.
Are tou troubled and sad? I beseech you
Come out of the shadows of strife –
Come out in the sun while I teach you
The secret of life.
Come out of the world – come above it –
Up over its crosses and graves,
Though the green earth is fair and I love it,
We must love it as masters, not slaves.
Come up where the dust never rises –
But only the perfume of flowers –
And your life shall be glad with surprises
Of beautiful hours.
Come up where the rare golden wine is
Apollo distills in my sight,
And your life shall be happy as mine is,
And as full of delight.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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You Walk In My Soul
When my eyes first saw you
A vision
My heart missed a beat
And I cried
I knew then I loved you
And I do
Now you are my reason for living
And now
You walk in my soul
You dance in my heart
You draw breath for me
Ill stand by your side
Ill kneel at your feet
Share my life with me
Ive waited years
Ive waited all my life for you
You are my world
All of my dreams and I need you
Ill love you forever
And a day
Ill love you till God comes and takes me away
You sing to my soul
You play with my heart
You breathe life for me
Ill always be yours
And Id die for you
Share my life with me
I cant believe
How much you mean to me, and so
Pick up a piece
A piece of my heart
And stay with me
song performed by by Gary Numan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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One Day A Hungry Fox
One day, a hungry fox,
Saw a high vineyard.
It was full of sweet grapes,
He might not have, he feared.
They were hanging in such
A height, that he jumped
And jumped, but couldn't get.
He had to remain starved,
Again he jumped, and jumped,
And went on jumping ever.
But all his efforts were in vain,
He failed to touch that cluster.
Being upset, he got angry
As he wasted his hour.
Before leaving out of pain,
He said--Grapes are very sour!
poem by Nilakshi Das
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A frustrated street vendor
An apple seller pushes his cart towards home
And the sale is very low as everybody asks grapes.
The other day when he brought grapes,
They query about apples.
Selling fruits is very hard nowadays and he muttered himself; ' Next time I must take sedatives and drag their pockets.'
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Devotion
Devotion
Written by: Wilfred Mellers, Wednesday, April 14,2010 @8: 31 PM
Our winters never it snowed
Autumn’s leafs never yellowed
No longer days overshadowed
In merriment we often wallowed
Temperament’s high strong now mellowed
Sweet wine of live once flowed
Fruits ripened we once sowed
Together for us time slowed
Streets walked seldom narrowed
Gone were the days thought sorrowed
Joy and laughter once bestowed
Our time was simply borrowed
Things one could never forebode
High was the price of my heavy load
Journeyed I down lonesome rocky road
Such a debt I once owed
Bitter juice of live once swallowed
On a shelf my heart I stowed
To the moonlight I once fallowed
Tender the soil I once harrowed
Felt as if my heart could explode
In ferny valleys our voice echoed
Our features together once glowed
For the joy of life we once showed
Now the roster mornings crowed
The beautiful bride now widowed
Operatic voice once bellowed
Mystical passages once harrowed
No long can decipher the complex code
New tunes turn to a somber mode
Humble once my loving abode
Through the tulips we once tiptoed
As I write you my fond ode
As precious metals starts to corrode
As Latin dancers no longer tangoed
My love time can never erode
poem by Wilfred Mellers
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Eyes Lassos, Too, Are Strained…
The sinful night melts in the sky,
Force bears a deep passion,
Juice is got by squeezing grapes;
Such fall causes ascension.
Then the juice turns into wine,
Into the wine – the source of passion,
And in the end, that very force
Creates love and affection.
Later, hunted by that intrigue,
The willful heirs are brought to birth,
And eyes lassos, too, are strained…
They, too, stand firmly on the earth…
24.12.2OO2.
Translated from Georgian
poem by Janri Gogeshvili
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The Clear Vision
I did but dream. I never knew
What charms our sternest season wore.
Was never yet the sky so blue,
Was never earth so white before.
Till now I never saw the glow
Of sunset on yon hills of snow,
And never learned the bough's designs
Of beauty in its leafless lines.
Did ever such a morning break
As that my eastern windows see?
Did ever such a moonlight take
Weird photographs of shrub and tree?
Rang ever bells so wild and fleet
The music of the winter street?
Was ever yet a sound by half
So merry as you school-boy's laugh?
O Earth! with gladness overfraught,
No added charm thy face hath found;
Within my heart the change is wrought,
My footsteps make enchanted ground.
From couch of pain and curtained room
Forth to thy light and air I come,
To find in all that meets my eyes
The freshness of a glad surprise.
Fair seem these winter days, and soon
Shall blow the warm west-winds of spring,
To set the unbound rills in tune
And hither urge the bluebird's wing.
The vales shall laugh in flowers, the woods
Grow misty green with leafing buds,
And violets and wind-flowers sway
Against the throbbing heart of May.
Break forth, my lips, in praise, and own
The wiser love severely kind;
Since, richer for its chastening grown,
I see, whereas I once was blind.
The world, O Father! hath not wronged
With loss the life by Thee prolonged;
But still, with every added year,
More beautiful Thy works appear!
As Thou hast made thy world without,
Make Thou more fair my world within;
Shine through its lingering clouds of doubt;
Rebuke its haunting shapes of sin;
Fill, brief or long, my granted span
Of life with love to thee and man;
Strike when thou wilt the hour of rest,
But let my last days be my best!
poem by John Greenleaf Whittier
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