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My mouth is watering at your sight
I can't wait for a taste, pure delight
One bite of you and my mouth quivers
Sending tingles up and down, I shiver
Sweet and flavorful, juices drip from my chin
Leaving me happy, satisfied, and with a grin
It's been too long since I tasted that fruit
Ripe, round, and a little fuzzy, you're cute
Heaven on Earth, the perfect wet taste, slurp
Sucking her succulent juices dry, another slurp
In the height of summer up in the tree I reach
For my refreshing sweet fruit, I love you my peach
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Closer closer now
Just a touch to the lips dear
Cherry flavor kiss
A little touch love
Delightful fruit 'on tongue
For the contest:
A Fruit Kiss
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Forbidden fruit is sweetest, or that’s what they all say
So I thought I’d give it a try and went for some today
I didn’t know just what to choose something firm and hard or what
So I thought I’d take a sample of everything they’d got.
There was some really hard ones, some were ripe and very sweet
But I chose one in the middle and it looked good enough to eat
I caressed it very gently and waited for it to please
I nearly didn’t go through with it, I was really gonna tease.
My taste buds are not set for sweet they prefer something more savoury
But no I stuck to my guns but I want no awards for bravery
I took one that looked just right, its rich colour tempted me to bite
But have you ever bitten a persimmon, that isn’t really ripe?
It sucks the moisture out of your mouth and covers you teeth in wool
Believe me you just try it; I am not giving you any bull.
Now for those that thought the fruit, would be some other man
Maybe that’s on my ‘to do’ list, before I kick the can……….LOL
Shame on you all, for all your naughty thoughts
Especially for those of you, that can’t keep it in their shorts
To all those that do struggle, to keep the forbidden fruit at bay
Just remember the persimmon and you will never rue the day.
© ~GG~ 4/12/2012
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I tried to find a consolation
to my frustration
saying to myself that it's not a question of whether it's right or wrong, maybe it's just different. But this constant-reiteration is like a surgical interruption of the nerve tracts of my shrinking brain; once again I make a prefrontal leucotomy to myself just to avoid the cognizance of my reprehensible ignorance or my negligence
It's neither traditional or contemporary
nor proper or improper
it's just the prosaic practicality
of a pro-preposterous absurdity
But who am I trying to fool using pretentious and alliterated words?
How difficult is it to accept that I can't write a haiku?
I know it's unfair to quote out of context but when the master Issa said
"[...] try to forget all of the rules," he was wrong
I tried it before and I could only get unrhymed footles
The king of fruit, nah!
No metaphors until I could understand what "absolute or deep metaphor" means
To be or not to be a watermelon
No personification allowed
Watermelons rhymes with fellons, nah!
Those Watermelons...nah! No Caps
Oops! The kigo! The season word!
Easy: watermelons are the most popular summertime fruit!
The Kireji, my "cutting word" is typical of an IQ above 140: a knife!
My yuxtaposition: another geniality!
The watermelons are...are you ready?
The watermelons are yuxtaposed in a "pile"
side by side one upon the other, showing their differences
5,7,5: 17 syllables! 3 unrhymed lines without a title! I did it! With my own hands!
What a joy!
cost ten cents more than a knife
the fruit prices rise
I captured the precise moment in which "I" realized that the watermelons cost 10 cents more than a knife! Aha! An instance of apprehending the true nature of fruit prices to raise awareness and a recognition of its essence, which, in this case, is the watermelon scent. Also, as the way the economy is going, everybody can relate to it: a universal haiku!
Original focus/experience/clear images/perfect!
If somebody has the audacity to haikuticize ME, I can still play the card up in my sleeve:Creativity!
Creativity in arts: my undeniable power of unrestricted use to determine...whatever!
to transcend traditional ideas, rules, concepts, and whatever!
to create new forms: an 8-lines-Nonet, an unrhymed footle, a 17 syllables-Sonnet (Rubenserian), or whatever!
I think I've created a new form...
I(Me)am so talented!
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Before the days when man first sinned
Angels traveled upon the wind
Everything magic shone in the night
Fairies fluttered, wings shining bright
Eve was perfect with long flowing hair
Sensuous body, delightfuly bare
Adam's body strong, he was a sight
They played by day and made love at night
Everything perfect, living in the trees
Yet trouble called upon a gentle breeze
The serpent said taste, this fruit so grand
Eve so entranced, she ate from his hand
She saved fruit for Adam, he took a bite
The garden went dark, no more magic light
A sonnet in The Wind Contest.
Written September 9th, 2013
Sponsored by: Poetess Darkly
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in the sun
The skin became the bark of a tree
the soul turning to brittle scars
for uncaring worlds to see.
is a pile of
old owl bones
sewn into banks of midnight creeks...
even the plump, over ripened ones
no longer look at me...
but if their car was desert flat,
their oil grim reaper black
they'd paint a wormy, water colored smile...
slide it through my barbed wired heart
so long as I could spin the jack...
so I spin it until their potholes turn to satin-
in the sun
the mind has smoothed over
like pebbles in Saturn rings..
a forgotten spice in the conversation of life
an hour later the word snuggles up to me
Tomorrow or forever( which ever comes first),
I'll stay wrapped inside
till my skin turns back to ivory
to an easter egg yesterday
to a time of bouncing ball and spinning jack,
when the mind was a great silky nest...
the face a flowered meadow place
where watercolors swirled all day,
the heartworms kept at bay.
I'll stay hidden within the briar,
till the jewels of memories sooth
every scar - every stripe,
the molten knots of cruelty,
till the sweetened fruit reclaims the tree.
until then only my curtains breathe...
...stayed in the sun
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luscious fruit of the tropics
sphere-shaped, tapered, oval-faced
beneath the sun dripping yellow;
tangy as the taste of a kiss braised
by mouths that crave for its moist
sweet marrow... peeled
from its curved bodice; sucked
juice trickles from the canvas
of skin lingering from the very stem
that dangles and anchors the nape
for a voluptuous season of wild
forest heat: sliced, striped , tasted
by love's scent—the pulp bits ooze—like
varnished ochre that unravels the golden
blooms beside it ,filling hungry vessels
of tongues: the melting ankle of husk
peels slowly as wedges ripen to expose
the bulbous tunnels of a seed in a burst of aurora...
a mango like this lives inside our
own season, succulent as earth's cream
relishing every drool of caressed,
passionate noon in flushed amber sensation.
Colourful Verse: Charlotte Puddifoot
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Eve presents the fruit, the forbidden fruit
A special unknown fruit from that one tree
A fruit that God said one should never eat
Then the snake came to shower the fruit free
Nothing bad, he says, will come from eating
God didn’t want the power to be known
The snake explained that they would be as God
Satan showed his ploy so well, he has sown
We took the fruit and ate it and life changed
We now have knowledge, of good and evil
Pain and hatred also came along too
All that is bad sure did come to reveal
God cursed the snake, that of the devil’s tool
But we must carry our sin for all time
The curse from the first bite that we did eat
And it wasn’t worth the pain we aligned
God was quite disappointed with humans
Hating to give us our just punishment
But we were now found walking with figs on
Ashamed of not doing God’s commandment
To this day we are filled with sin each day
Starting right from the first couple’s mistake
Now we must wallow inside their bad choice
Suffering the punishment we did make
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Self-gratification is the fruit of one's love,
making the artist's delighted face glow...
when every vision has been achieved,
and each intention joyfully revealed.
He will envision the shape and colors,
then transfer those images to canvas;
and with the gentles strokes of his brush...
real faces will appear and suddenly blush.
Thinker and dreamer, let passion and imagination flow,
don't be distracted by worries or external sounds below;
work diligently with your brush, transcending your own credibility...
but later, it would be too hilarious to scream out your insanity.
Self-gratification is the fruit of one's love...
that enduring, timeless legacy hard to ignore;
when others show admiration, you'll be so pleased
and motivated to add more laurels to your prestige.
Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci
Poem | |
Golden gleams of rays lend a refreshing glow
to leaves that wink and glimmer green
Breeze and shade cool fruit pickers' brows...
a laid back afternoon
for sun-kissed mangoes and Filipina beauties
**inspired by Fernando Amorsolo's
"Fruit Pickers Under a Mango Tree"
-- he is known to be the painter of Philippine Sunlight