There are three tasty morsels: figs, peaches, and melons.
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Ripe Succulent Fruit
writing
rich red poems
bursting
with abundant juice
like succulent
crown cultivated
strawberries
containing melons
of tasty meaning
juices run
lusciously swobbing
painting
lipstick tarted lips
greedily gobbling
magnifying
improbable morsels
sucking shredding
squashed pulp
morphia
plants grown
were fed
mind slender
frail potted
plantings
mordant
in foliage stem beds
architect groomed
tesselated soil
were fruit given
strawberries grown
swob - apply (usually a liquid) to a surface; 'dab the wall with paint', archaic variant of swab.
morphia - [Greek. morphin from Morphesus, the god of dreams] the alkaloid constituting the narcotic principle of opium.
mordant - the term mordant comes from the Latin word, 'mordere', to bite.
A substance used to set dyes on fabrics or tissue sections by forming a coordination complex with the dye which then attaches to the fabric or tissue.
tesselated - chequered; pertaining to or like mosaic.
poem by Terence George Craddock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Pounding Sexuality
Hounds on the prowl...
Wolves in silk and satin,
Growl.
Tasty morsels loose unleashed.
Waiting unsuspectedly,
To dangle and mesh...
A hidden inner beast!
Pounding sexuality,
And tearing the seams from sheets!
No one lays a victim here...
It is clear these dogs only stalk,
And eat
Fresh and tender meat!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Next Summer
Autumn is here
no more peaches to sell
so long my friend
I hope you come
and see me next summer
to buy peaches from me
...again
poem by Marites C. Cayetano
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Summer Bramble Diadem
Blackberries waiting to be picked
At the end of July
Guard their treasures with a thorn prick
And a black snake nearby
Tasty morsels of purple sprig
Hanging savory sweet
Stabs your fingers with spiteful twigs
So none may ever eat
Both my hands are dripping bloody
And I watched the snake's eye
Thunderstorms made plucking muddy
But Mmmm...Blackberry pie!
poem by Pasquale DiMeola
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Georgia Peaches
(ronnie vanzant -- steve gaines)
Well, you can see her walkin down on peachtree street
She got high-heeled shoes and a dot on her cheek
Shes lookin good, shes headed downtown
Aint got no money, honey
She knows her way around
I think shes cute, think shes cute as she can be
Talkin about a funny talkin, honk-tonking georgia peach
Well these georgia peaches
Son they know their way around
They can take your money, son before you get sight of town
Well they talk a little funny, but they look so fine
Nine out of ten of them gonna sell you a dime
I think theyre cute, think theyre cute as they can be
Talkin about a funny talkin, honk-tonking georgia peach
Well, peaches, peaches
Love them georgia peaches
Well, peaches, peaches
Love them georgia peaches
Well them georgia peaches
Sure do got the style
Theyll steal your heart with a southern smile
Well they talk a little funny, but they look so fine
The older they get, I swear its like good wine
I think theyre cute, think theyre cute as they can be
Talkin about a funny talkin, honk-tonking georgia peach
Talkin about a funny talkin, honk-tonking georgia peach
I just seem to fall in love with the wrong things
song performed by by Lynyrd Skynyrd
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Harvest
A severe drought but water melons expanded
in the back yard of the farmhouse.
There was no hunt the whole night
and the hunter returns home
with his rusty shot gun.
Farm lassie counts the melons
for the week-end market
and they smiled each other
While he was passing the fence.
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Figs he calls figs, a spade a spade. [Said of a man who speaks with sincerity and means what he says.]
If a man plants melons he will reap melons; if he sows beans, he will reap beans.
My candy man
So sweet so tasty
That car-a-mel man of mine
My tasty love treat
poem by Paola Elizabet Mateo
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Apples, Peaches, Bananas & Pears
Apples, peaches, bananas and pears
I love you, girl, now thats the truth
I need you
Dont be cruel, dont be cruel
Give me just a little help and to show how much I care
I bring you apples, peaches, bananas and pears
Run to me
Girl dont wait to long
And youll see
I wont do you wrong
Promise me no matter what
Forever youll be there
Ill bring you apples, peaches, bananas and pears
Ive said all I can today, girl
Thats the way I am
Take it for what its worth,
Throw the rest into the sun
Give me you
Girl, thats all I ask
Please be true
All I wants a love to last
Ill give it all back to you
And just to prove Im fair
I bring you apples, peaches, bananas and pears
Whoa!
I love you, girl, now thats the truth
I need you
Dont be cruel, dont be cruel
Give me just a little help
And to show how much I care
I bring you apples, peaches, bananas and pears
Apples, peaches, bananas and pears
song performed by by Monkees
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Peaches And Cream
The light was on, and everything I felt was strong
I watched as your mascara ran
Didn't get far on that golden tan
I heard you sigh, but I don't wanna see you cry
You looked just like a walking dream
Sweeter than peaches and cream
[Chorus:]
If you want me let me know
I can show you how
If you've got nowhere to go
I can show you now
I'm yours to tame, and I don't even know your name
I like to touch your perfect skin
I can't stop once I begin
To show you more than I have ever shown before
If you could read what's on my mind
Give me yours and I'll give you mine
[Chorus]
We could be, we could see
More than we know
We should be, we should see
More than we know
And I'd like to know
[Chorus 2x]
Sweeter than peaches and cream (If you want me let me know)
Sweeter than peaches and cream (I can show you how)
[Repeat And Fade]
song performed by by Air Supply
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Canned Peaches
When we got to eat...
We ate spinach, peas and beets,
With sweet canned peaches!
No steak was plated!
But we knew the taste of it,
When mom fixed us cornbread.
And mama said,
Biscuits dripping dumplings...
May be next!
And on Sundays...
We thanked the Lord that week,
We even got fed!
When it came to treats,
We licked the spoon
That dipped those sweet canned peaches!
We loved them more,
Than probably we should.
But they tasted real good!
And on Sundays...
We thanked the Lord that week,
We even got fed!
A love for those canned peaches...
Is 'still' in my head!
When we got to eat...
We ate spinach, peas and beets,
With sweet canned peaches!
No steak was plated!
But we knew the taste of it,
When mom fixed us cornbread.
And mama said,
Biscuits dripping dumplings...
May be next!
But those canned peaches,
By themselves were best!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Thanksgiving
The people in our country have set aside a day
to celebrate with family, a day on which they pray
that giving thanks for all they have will make them think again
that many are not as fortunate and then they'll say Amen.
The table set before them will whet their appetite.
The turkey and the dressing and yams will bring delight.
The cornbread and the cranberries are ready for the eating.
The adults and the children once again are meeting.
When the dinner's over, the best is yet to come.
The pumpkin pies with whipped cream and then the men succumb
to watch a football game or two until they fall asleep.
And when the dishes all are done with leftovers in a heap,
Mom will hand them out to all so later they'll ingest
the tasty morsels for a second time.
Thanksgiving is the best! !
Happy Thanksgiving to all my readers.
poem by Edwina Reizer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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If you plant melons , you get melons; if you plant beans, you get beans.
Still-life
Through the open French window the warm sun
Lights up the polished breakfast-table, laid
Round a bowl of crimson roses, for one -
A service of Worcester porcelain, arrayed
Near it a melon, peaches, figs, small hot
Rolls in a napkin, fairy rack of toast,
Butter in ice, high silver coffee-pot,
And, heaped on a salver, the morning's post.
She comes over the lawn, the young heiress,
From her early walk in her garden-wood,
Feeling that life's a table set to bless
Her delicate desires with all that's good.
That even the unopened future lies
Like a love-letter, full of sweet surprise.
poem by Elizabeth Daryush
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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From Blossoms
From blossoms comes
this brown paper bag of peaches
we bought from the joy
at the bend in the road where we turned toward
signs painted Peaches.
From laden boughs, from hands,
from sweet fellowship in the bins,
comes nectar at the roadside, succulent
peaches we devour, dusty skin and all,
comes the familiar dust of summer, dust we eat.
O, to take what we love inside,
to carry within us an orchard, to eat
not only the skin, but the shade,
not only the sugar, but the days, to hold
the fruit in our hands, adore it, then bite into
the round jubilance of peach.
There are days we live
as if death were nowhere
in the background; from joy
to joy to joy, from wing to wing,
from blossom to blossom to
impossible blossom, to sweet impossible blossom.
poem by Li-Young Lee
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Summer time Peaches
I want to go
To the place where lovers go
Where butterflys rest easy
On sun ripened Peaches
Beyond extended hand reaches
As we stretched
You touched me
And held me for a moment
Which time stood still
Confine myself, immersed inside your love
I want to be there..
To rehearse your name
I want to be there
To nurse your pain
And to be there
To take you places
Where lovers go
Let me feed you, freshly picked
Summer time peaches
poem by Howard Johnson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Live As If You're Getting What It Is
Remove the 'maybe'
From the things you need.
Remove the 'maybe'
From dreams you want to see.
Remove the heartache,
From those setbacks.
Keep on trying.
Your wishes with those wants,
Will someday end that teasing.
Remove the 'maybe'
From hope and faith.
Do whatever that hardwork takes.
Remove the sadness from your smile.
And live as if you're getting what it is...
And it's tasty!
Remove the 'maybe'
From the things you need.
Remove the 'maybe'
From dreams you want to see.
Remove the heartache,
From those setbacks.
And live as if you're getting what it is...
And it's tasty!
Spiced the way you like it,
And tasty!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Poetry Is Somebody Writing
Poetry is somebody writing
About soft rotting peaches,
Lying on a table that's missing a leg
In a deserted cottage somewhere,
With ermine curtains.
And Poetry is someone explaining
That the poem holds promise of great beauty,
In the seeds of the peaches,
Even if they are over-ripe;
And even if the curtains are poorly matched.
And Poetry is someone else arguing
That the poem is about avarice
And wasted opportunity
In a post-modern world.
And Poetry is somebody else saying
A poem is just a still life
Made out of nothing in particular,
And thus can't be assigned relative values.
And Poetry is the child,
Falling asleep on the table
Holding a poem book open,
Pressed against his cheek,
And dreaming of ermine peaches
Rolling off of limping tables,
In a dark cottage alone,
In the middle of an existence
Nowhere that we could recognize.
poem by Patti Masterman
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