Ode To The Orange

[icyfroth]

I just unpacked a 3kg net of navel oranges.  They were so fragrant of sweetness and sunshine,  I had to pay homage to them: 

Oh Orange I love you

You are a small globe of Sunshine

Your juice is like nectar 

Your flesh is the goodness of life

Your fragrance breathes warmth into the darkness of winter.

You are beautiful.

[opmania]

Ode to Icy

Hey you know

When you went away

No body really had 

Very much to say

Well not of interest  anyway

No new topics of the day

You add with vigor

In your particular way

Well done Icy

Queen of this play

Lol

[icyfroth]

---

@opmania wrote:

Ode to Icy

Hey you know

When you went away

No body really had 

Very much to say

Well not of interest  anyway

No new topics of the day

You add with vigor

In your particular way

Well done Icy

Queen of this play

Lol

---

[imastawka]

Nuthin' suss here -

 

edited that 4 times now - won't go smaller - sorry

[tasfleur]

I love a little orange,

It tastes so pure and sweet,

But when I bite down hard on it,

I get juice on my feet!

[raptor_rebooted]

[opmania]

Said the Apple 

To the orange

All I wanted was to come

Close to you

And kiss you

To the core

That I might love you

Like no other Apple

Has ever done

Before

This was  a tiny song on an 

Album of my older brothers

It was a double album with various

Artists

Can't think of anything else on it

Just thought this cute and remembered

It forever

No idea what it means

[donnashuggy]

I love them too!

[the_great_she_elephant]

THE ORANGE TREE by John Shaw Neilson

The young girl stood beside me.  I
   Saw not what her young eyes could see:
- A light, she said, not of the sky
   Lives somewhere in the Orange Tree.

- Is it, I said, of east or west?
   The heartbeat of a luminous boy
Who with his faltering flute confessed
   Only the edges of his joy?

Was he, I said, borne to the blue
   In a mad escapade of Spring
Ere he could make a fond adieu
   To his love in the blossoming?

- Listen! the young girl said.  There calls
   No voice, no music beats on me;
But it is almost sound: it falls
  This evening on the Orange Tree.

- Does he, I said, so fear the Spring
   Ere the white sap too far can climb?
See in the full gold evening
   All happenings of the olden time?

Is he so goaded by the green?
   Does the compulsion of the dew
Make him unknowable but keen
   Asking with beauty of the blue?

- Listen! the young girl said.  For all
   Your hapless talk you fail to see
There is a light, a step, a call
   This evening on the Orange Tree.

- Is it, I said, a waste of love
  Imperishably old in pain,
Moving as an affrighted dove
  Under the sunlight or the rain?

Is it a fluttering heart that gave
  Too willingly and was reviled?
Is it the stammering at a grave,
  The last word of a little child?

- Silence! the young girl said.  Oh, why,
  Why will you talk to weary me?
Plague me no longer now, for I
  Am listening like the Orange Tree.

[icyfroth]

---

@the_great_she_elephant wrote:

THE ORANGE TREE by John Shaw Neilson

The young girl stood beside me.  I
   Saw not what her young eyes could see:
- A light, she said, not of the sky
   Lives somewhere in the Orange Tree.

- Is it, I said, of east or west?
   The heartbeat of a luminous boy
Who with his faltering flute confessed
   Only the edges of his joy?

Was he, I said, borne to the blue
   In a mad escapade of Spring
Ere he could make a fond adieu
   To his love in the blossoming?

- Listen! the young girl said.  There calls
   No voice, no music beats on me;
But it is almost sound: it falls
  This evening on the Orange Tree.

- Does he, I said, so fear the Spring
   Ere the white sap too far can climb?
See in the full gold evening
   All happenings of the olden time?

Is he so goaded by the green?
   Does the compulsion of the dew
Make him unknowable but keen
   Asking with beauty of the blue?

- Listen! the young girl said.  For all
   Your hapless talk you fail to see
There is a light, a step, a call
   This evening on the Orange Tree.

- Is it, I said, a waste of love
  Imperishably old in pain,
Moving as an affrighted dove
  Under the sunlight or the rain?

Is it a fluttering heart that gave
  Too willingly and was reviled?
Is it the stammering at a grave,
  The last word of a little child?

- Silence! the young girl said.  Oh, why,
  Why will you talk to weary me?
Plague me no longer now, for I
  Am listening like the Orange Tree.

---

I like that!