Fruit off the vine
Is like a line
Of poetry.

You slowly grew
And so you knew
Of poetry.

Poetry is time.
Time, here’s a rhyme
Of poetry.

The fruit must drop.
The line must stop
For poetry.

What is the line
If not imagined
Pleasure to see?

And to hear—
If poetry’s fear
Made the poet lucky?

I feared poetry
In my younger days;
The music plays

To insult poetry sometimes
With its rhymes.
But speech will get its revenge
When amid the hullabaloo

You say, “Did you know I love you?”

Then music will seem kind,
Sweet food for the blind,
And you and poetry
Will be of one mind.


  1. February 26, 2015 at 3:46 pm

    So nice to read. Thank you

  2. Tutti Frutti said,

    February 26, 2015 at 11:46 pm

    Ye shall know them by their fruits.
    Do men gather grapes of thorns, or figs of thistles?
    Even so every good tree bringeth forth good fruit;
    but a corrupt tree bringeth forth evil fruit.
    A good tree cannot bring forth evil fruit,
    neither can a corrupt tree bring forth good fruit.
    Every tree that bringeth not forth good fruit is hewn down,
    and cast into the fire.

    Wherefore by their fruits ye shall know them.

    [Matthew 7:16-20]

    But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, longsuffering, gentleness, goodness, faith, meekness, temperance: against such there is no law.

    [Galatians 5:22-23 KJV]

    I know Scarriet is too cool to care about “Likes” but I still decided to hit Like…

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