Peach

I am a watermelon with no meter or rind. Counting syllables like one, two, three... Some beats make me sweet. Some rhythms make me salty. Four, three, two... Some poets prefer a non-rhyming peach whose lines taste better than mine. One, two, three… Please don’t cry. Four, three, two… I’m still here and I hope you’re doing just fine. A real Peach never says goodbye. Berteena Harmony of the Soul 13 February, 2019

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Eric Ashford

Date: 7/23/2019 8:30:00 AM

Hi Berteena, what a cool write! I like the counting, as if the poet is reconstructing her feelings as she goes along. It's a real peach of a poem.

John Gondolf

Date: 2/13/2019 7:31:00 PM

This poem somewhat describes the difference between your writing and mine; I’m sure many prefer the taste of yours. Glad to hear the Georgia peach is doing fine. John

Berteena Harmony Of The Soul
Date: 2/13/2019 8:31:00 PM

We each have our own unique gifts. Your poetry is beautiful. My poetry tends to come from some source of agony and love at the same time. The world wouldn’t be the same without either heart poured out. You are well loved and respected for your own design. I appreciate you always supporting my thoughts. Be well, dear one.

Caren Krutsinger

Date: 2/13/2019 5:19:00 AM

Berteena, this part of the poem IS A COMPLETE poem by itself, and can stand alone and inspire people: "Some beats make me sweet. Some rhythms make me salty. Four, three, two... Some poets prefer a non-rhyming peach whose lines taste better than mine." Bravo!

Berteena Harmony Of The Soul
Date: 2/13/2019 10:09:00 AM

Thank you for always being so supportive, Ms. Caren. I wrote this until I could sing it to myself. ;)