I am the true vine, and my Father is the vinedresser.
Zakk Shut
Zakk Shut
May 10, 2014

I am the true vine, and my Father is the vinedresser.
In Him is pure peace and pure life and none lesser.
In Him is everlasting and nothing's even better.
His Word is not a chore list, it's an eternal Love letter.

He prunes every branch that abides and Him and bears fruit
He seeks the ones that chose the path of endless pursuit
Of His face, His will, a branch who chooses to go all out
A life greatly lived, a life who can't live while Him without.

Every branch in me that does not bear fruit He takes away
A happy illusion, a path of the gold-plated astray.
But to a dismay, without the roots a branch goes dry
Thrown to the ground, iuyet picked up but thrown to the fire.

The branch whog stay true to the Vine pleases the Vinedresser
Who calls out to Him amidst the thorns, despite the world's pleasure
With so much fruit a branch has no better sign
When trampled by life would produce the finest wine.

Written for 'Or Are We?' with Ullrich Lariosa as the guitarist.
You and I were the tree and the vine,
Alissa Rogers
Alissa Rogers
Apr 8, 2013      Apr 8, 2013

You and I were the tree and the vine,
I was yours and you were mine.
I often felt that I was the tree,
for all the roots that came under me.
You were the vine, beautiful and light;
I loved you best for never clinging too tight.
You said that all along it was I who clung,
and then and there something died where I hung.
This tree of mine had changed its leaves,
and grown contempt within its eaves.
And I, the vine and parasite
was bid a prompt and cold goodnight.
By the time I fell to the forest floor,
life as I knew it was no more.

Daphny Ryan
Daphny Ryan
Nov 18, 2012

Out there somewhere beyond the streets
and the stomps,
unlocking the hidden moment of
engulfed in the magestic warmth
through the tangeled forest,
life awaited.

Reality a vine
Benjamin Aptaker
Benjamin Aptaker
Feb 8, 2012

Reality a vine
cut short as it grew
tangents of grapes
each fell a direction its own

revelations of faces
in alternate places
cross stretches of spaces
like speed of light races

time travel acquired
time line expired
time itself, tired
time, into minds, wired

like electrical current
like electrical impulse
like instinctual whims
like sensual sins

Jade Vine
Apr 10, 2014      Apr 12, 2014

Her heart is a broken record
Constantly being scratched by knives and scissors
Lost in their quest to find a spot still intact

When put in the old phonograph
It plays a soft melody filled with piano notes
That sound like rain on a gray day

The strings of the violin echoes in the background
Along with the lower tones of the cellos
The solitary saxophone cries;
The flutes and clarinets follow its lead,
Desperately letting out their high notes of agony

Drums emerge blasting anger
Encouraging the rest of the instruments to go along
And when it is about to hit its climax…
Another scratch – a deep crooked scratch.
It takes a while before the song starts over.

It’s hard to imagine
This was once a beautiful, shiny vinyl
That stood up in the wooden shelf
Now it is filled with dust
Making company – only – to the Merlot sitting by the desk
And to the ears that can hear nothing
But the harmony of the broken hearted.

#love   #broken   #heart   #hurt   #music   #brokenheart   #record  
The vine grows tall against a wall,
B J Clement
B J Clement
Jun 13, 2014

The vine grows tall against a wall,
it loves all places steeper
without the wall it's forced to crawl
and only rated creeper!

A thin green vine
Regan Troop
Regan Troop
Jul 25, 2011

How long have I been laying here?
Since when did my left arm fall asleep?

I look up to the darkened clouds
I can see both the sun and moon
My body now lays in the shade

I look to my sleeping limb
down to my chilled fingers
And I notice
A thin green vine
curled around my pinky finger

How long has it taken you to grow on me,
Little vine?

I smile, as I naturally love nature's ways

Carefully, I uncurl the vine and stand
It hasn't taken me long at all to grow on you,
Little vine.

- the union of Man and vine
Jun 29

I drink wine freely
and the grapes celebrate
- the union of Man and vine
leaf. For modesties sake.

Dad- You Stupid!
Kid- Na I'm not
Dad- Waz nine plus ten
Kid- Tweny wun

To comment on this poem, please log in or create a free account
Log in or register to comment