The Fruits Of LifeA Poem by The Lark
Dig too deep and you may find Little matter neath the rind But for ashes, coloured rust, A stony core now ground to dust.
So ponder this, how can it be, When taken from the highest tree, A plant bestowed with laborious care Should have such tainted fruit to bear?
The stricken thing, considered plain, Is undeserving of its name, Now disregarded, left in haste, ‘fore naïve lips should chance a taste.
Looks are law, so seems with fruit, Unsightly held in disrepute, A shame, the substance thought so grave, In truth was nectar gods would crave. © 2010 The Lark |
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1 Review Added on February 15, 2008 Last Updated on April 22, 2010 AuthorThe LarkMelbourne, AustraliaAboutI guess I'm something of an old-school poet. I always write with fixed meter and rhyme, and for the most part that's what I enjoying reading too. "I'd as soon write free verse as play tennis with th.. more..Writing
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