WE RISING AND WAXING FRUITS
Hanging here,
We are the fruits
Of the tree
Of liberating life,
In the Edenic Garden’s
Beginning of its own being:-
However, be aware, we’re not
Of mutated, vile, apple seeds,
Nor are we as drained raisins
Hanging in the shining sun:-
Rather, we’re hued seeds
Of the melons of water
Hydrating flowing life;
Indeed, we’re fruits
Of the seeds of undying loved,
Reflected in the mirror of life:
Viewed in the eternal light
Of the sun and its moon,
Rising and setting;
Waning and
Waxing:-
Thus, as fruits of The Sower
Of the rising sun and the womb of the moon,
We too, shall have our waxing and rising equity:-
I have finally found my favourite shopping bag
the words upon it say "my poo grows trees"
Also depicted a cassowary below his bum a young shrub
I'm like the cassowary I make use of all my poos and wees
Both in the compost with vegie scraps and other useful "waste"
when the compost is dark and friable and fully broken down
I make a compost tea or add sand to make a seed raising mix
Fill buckets for my orchard to spread goodness all around
My efforts are rewarded as I harvest an abundance of fruit
mango paw paw grumichama sapodilla all organic fare
If you are ever in far North Queensland come and visit
for breakfast a bonanza I would love to share
TO BEING INNUMEROUS SHARERS
It has been written,
“The harvest is plentiful…”
But reapers are few:-
Be aware of God’s sown seeds—
And among His great reapers:-
Sown love seeds will sprout;
Germinating Godly fruits:-
Be in their reaping:
Numbered eaters and drinkers—
Well nourished and energized:-
Be ever mindful,
God’s garden is always full;
Many reapers sought:
His spiritual guidance,
Is in need of your sharing:-
Hybrid fruits holding such rare flavor,
slightly odd and irregular.
IN AND OF GOD'S TWINS
We reap what we sow.
Seek to sow love, to reap love:
They're God's seeds and fruits
unripe nice cute grapes
among the vibrant green leaves
emerald pendants
Tonight begins Shavuos, The Festival of Weeks, the Pentecost
'Midst the festivities, the holiday's other name,
The Festival of the First-Fruits, sometimes gets lost
Jewish farmers would bring a basket of 'first-fruits' to the Temple
What was the 'big deal?' Why would they eat them there?
They'd been waiting five years to eat that fruit, per Torah law*
Which gave to the festival an atmosphere of profound awe
The land belongs to God Almighty, not to the farmers, its stewards
They can't just take and eat whatever they want
without proper acknowledgment
And perhaps, just perhaps, the festival is partly recompense
For Adam and Eve eating the apple
~ for not acknowledging God's command, a grave offense
*For five years from the time of planting, Jews may not eat of the fruits
growing from the trees of the Land of Israel.
OF SEEDS OF WAR
Sowing seeds of war,
Only reaps fruits of evil:
Fruits, nourishing hate:-
In the last third of this beautiful spring,
Some trees stand tall but have not yet blossomed,
While others bear flowers that soothe the soul,
And still others carry nice neat lovely cute fruits
I love spring, its rain, its trees, and its birds!
FRUITS OF OUR SEX
The sexualization of men and women lurks on every street corner
From the eggplants at the grocery store
To the cucumbers laid out at the spa
Can’t a woman enjoy a ripe banana?
Or bite into a watermelon while its juices
drip down my chin, slipping into my bra
What is it about food that’s so sexual?
Or is the pleasure hidden in the hunger that drives it all?
A craving, a desire we all have—built in, hardwired
A balanced diet turns aphrodisiac, quietly conspiring
Fueling our passions
as they seep in, interrupting vision with cloaked actions
What if I don’t eat pineapple?
Or my cheeks puff up when I eat peach,
What’s so wrong with small cherries?
Do they taste any less sweet?
What about what I want—
Can I not have sex with socks on
just to keep from worrying about cold feet?
The fruits of our sex are something for the eyes to see
Yet labeled in bold: Don’t bite into me
Is that what makes you want us more?
The warning, the restraint, the closed door?
Indulge in your desires—still your thirst returns unsure
No sweetness stays long enough to cure
So tell me—
is it the fruit,
or the mind
that makes hunger feel impure?
OF THE FRUITS OF PEACE AND LOVE
Fruits of peace and love,
Ripe and ready for reaping:
Ending war’s murders:-
War’s collateral damage,
Only reaps dead, rotting lives:-
We reap what we sow.
God sowed natural resources
For worldwide sharing:-
Why can’t we sow peace and love,
Reaping the shared fruits thereof?
May we all be blessed to remember:
raising children is akin to planting trees.
With much depending our our patience,
our love
and our humility…
Because as we give them our time
nurturing them
offering them our love
our food
our water…
our sun…
It is only years later
as we sit under their shade
when we realize
what a good job we have done
You shouldn’t judge a book by it’s cover, you see,
but by it’s fruits, you can judge a tree.
When we judge someone by their looks,
we truly judge a cover, on a book,
Now, if we judge the fruits, they bare, you see,
are these fruits, healthy and good for me.
Don’t ever judge a soul, they could be in Gods hand,
for He has many children, in every piece of land.
Those who will help you, lift your heart you see,
don’t judge a person, till you taste the fruits of their tree.
A fruit from the tree of life,
Fed by goodness and strife,
Like a knife the winds blow,
It falls into the shadow,
Withered and rotting,
Waiting to grow,
Succumbing to the flow of time,
Priming the seeds inside,
Aware of the ride,
Through changing tides,
And riversides,
All the elements collide,
Dividing the seed from its needs,
They've agreed to the process,
As they progress down the river,
Quivering into crevices,
Eventually coming to rest,
Doing their best to take root,
Breaking through into a new world,
Growing toward the light,
Fighting the environment,
It grows into enlightenment,
The excitement of new things,
Brings many different offerings,
A collection of blossoms,
Waiting to bloom,
Grooming for pollination,
Opening to the invasion,
Any moment the miracle could happen,
The force of life takes action,
The interaction taking root,
The tree of life grows another fruit.
With half closed eyes and mind tending to flee,
Safe on the shore and seeking mundane ease,
Looking everywhere, scarce getting to see,
Today’s man hopes to enjoy still high seas.
In safety of shallow waters he swims,
Still, choicest of real pearls wishes to catch,
Mid-sea adventures whirling in his dreams,
He lacks the will to wait till oysters hatch.
Life’s not so simple like mobile's touch screen--
One click and pops up all the pre-set view,
A set scene gets re-relayed from within,
And yet, here too one must choose from menu.
Let sweat bids shed by thee be nigh salty,
The fruits of labour always feel tasty.
________________________ _____
Sonnet | 09.12.2017 | adventure, fruits, labour/work, life, reflections
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