To Grandma, an apple can make pie.
My darling is the apple of my eye.
These sweet thoughts visit me
as I pick an apple from a tree -
pity that it takes a bite to learn
what an apple is to a worm.
My childhood was both sour and sweet,
Sour because I lived with two mothers who were immiscible liquids,
Sour because of sibling conflict and strife,
Sweet because my brother and I enjoyed the company of communal friends.
Growing up on Apple Avenue was a memorable experience,
There was a large field at one end,
It housed a public school,
There were vendors on the field who sold indigenous confections,
My brother and I were their loyal customers,
There was a tree on the field that barely had leaves even during the rainy season,
We were told different mystical tales about the tree.
The highlight of one of the evenings was a bicycle race,
Chopper versus BMX,
The race was about which bike was faster,
In the maiden race, my brother was a few metres ahead,
The Chopper rider committed a foul,
He collided with the rear wheel of my brother’s bicycle,
My brother’s bicycle tumbled and he sustained injuries,
It resulted in a fight between rival groups.
The bicycle race was on hold for a long time.
September 25, 2026.
Cottage Cheese and Apple Sauce
So, in the conversation, we talked about different tastes—
How cottage cheese and apple sauce deserved their rightful place.
So, in this moment of trusting things you say,
I applied a heaping helping upon my dinner tray.
Not one aside from each other, but both inside the bowl,
Mixed them up together—and before your eyes will roll...
The concoction is a masterpiece, in sweetness and in cheese,
And I found myself devouring it and asking for "more, please!"
It will become a staple on my dinner plate, for it is a healthy snack;
The creamy apple goodness is surely a life hack.
Glasses, goggles, shields spare us
From the dangers that would snare us.
So the Savior’s love will bear us,
Carry, shelter and prepare us.
Nothing in the world should scare us,
Nothing in the world impair us;
For the Lord above compares us
To his precious eyes, and dares us
Live with joy, for he declares us
His alone, of gems the rarest.
Inside the madness,
There lies an apple seed.
You peel it away,
You tear it apart,
To taste the flesh within.
Before we even realize it,
We
Spit that seed away.
A green apple am I,
Someone pounces on me out of the sky.
And a juice I never knew was inside,
Splashes toward you, nowhere to hide.
You grow dizzy, intoxicated and grand,
Craving the next grape across the land.
The thorny brambles stand silent and deep,
Where the baby kitten finds eternal sleep.
"Foolish mortals!" they cry,
"Do not dare to cast your greedy eye!"
"You are mere slaves to taste and desire,
Chasing the flames of a fleeting fire!"
Yet deep within the thorns so wild,
A kitten rests beside its mother, mild.
Finding a cozy nest from harm apart,
Purring sweet lullabies, heart to heart.
The washed up of shores of the apple cores,
Magnetized child to her waist and cradle,
Teenage years amplify their fears,
he'll be washed up in a couple of years.
Eyes of angst, piled up beach banks,
Gators in the shallow & fear of gallows,
Pressing on the neck in a dream of sea-wrecks,
Popping of balloons near sinking Saloons.
Remember the day in which we'll run & play
Ignoring the truth of everything they'll say,
Hopping along to every child-hood song
& ignorance to a hot furnace's wrongs.
The floor being turning points of doors,
wood that follows ends up rotten hollow
The knife in the chest that proves so fatal,
the blowing of a child's delightful petals.
A gladsome tree, you
Or far less amused
Lowering these, your limbs to
Snatch that in them held?
I can't tell. Except
With no wind to blame
Mushiest, as for it kept
A head, one apple
Of a size none can grapple
Has on it just ' felled'.
It appears the apple doesn't fall far from the tree, they aim to spread ignorance and they'll start from a seed, I saw the apple cut in half and what I did find is fairly funny so funny I might lie and say: if these two halves make a whole, then such wisdom like no other will be imparted for sure. I didn't think much of symmetrical finds after these apples fell and were worthless in time. The apple, the apple, the apple, the apple, I do indeed see farther than most and none of these apples disjoined for seeding make good hosts, the apple, the apple, the apple, the apple.
a glass of red wine
as sweet and crisp as
a fresh picked apple
The orchardist held the apple tight,
Staring deep into its being,
As if it had something more to show him than its rotten skin.
Unwilling to admit it to its predestined fate,
He first peeled the apple to view its innards.
Unsatisfied by the inedible flesh,
He continued:
Deeper and deeper,
Until his hands were coarse and knife dull.
Finally upon reaching the core,
His anger released itself in a swift action,
As he hurled the apple core towards the wall.
Quickly though, he ran towards the remaining mush.
Grasping at anything, hoping to get his apple back.
However, it would not be,
Nor was it ever so,
its rancidness was sown in its creation
I had a nightmare one night
Of a disease I couldn't fight
Laying in a bed in the ER
Doc's were puzzled; my case was bizarre.
I ended up with a hospital stay
Laying on my back, most of the day
Muscles eroding from disuse
All they would give me was apple juice.
Doctors tried hard, nurses nice too
In general tried to help, a caring crew.
Then I heard a nasty laugh somewhere near
I'd heard that laugh before, I was filled with fear.
Just a bad apple, one bad employee
Could give the wrong meds, to make a mess of me
Still in the dream I wished I never came
Grabbed my light saber, turned on the flame.
The force was with me, so I jumped out of bed,
In a dream you can transition from almost dead
I raced down the hall, IV tube came loose
Flew out the window, escaped the revenge noose.
I folded white wings, landed on a hill
Feeling young again, all by power of will
Then I woke up, I was in a nursing home
A year immobile, a year alone.
That was a dream too, two levels to escape
Pretended I was a marathoner, that got me awake.
But it raises a question, society needs trust
Just one bad apple, and it could be dust to dust.
Her eyes cling to the ground
following his trail
as he wonders
why she complains
“It’s just an apple,” he says
and walks ahead, anyway
her gaze falls
to her own
an apple
too hard
for her jaw
heavy enough
to chain her ankles
she looks up
wonders
how his still stays red
while hers darkens in her hands
her eyes search him
for an eraser
for the book
breaking her spine
but he only carries
a pencil
the same one
that wrote
the weight
she drowns in
still
on all fours
she follows
wondering
if she will ever hold
a book
light enough
for her hands
or taste
an apple
that doesn’t hurt
A taste of an alternative reality
Pieces melting into obscure oblivion
Please don’t let anyone steal my sugar prize
Let my core sing its ballads as I twirl my tongue
Eyes glow as pastry breaks beneath my sharp teeth
Praying this moment will last, begging lips to pause
It’s been ages since we felt your sauce in our throat
End of the day you're more faithful than past lovers.
Brown crust shimmering in golden light.
Aromas swirling, warm and inviting.
Kissed with cinnamon, sweet delight.
Each slice a comfort, joy igniting.
Delicate apples nestled inside.
Alluring flavors, tempting my taste.
Perfectly baked, dreams cannot hide.
Pastry and fruit—nothing goes to waste.
Layers of sweetness, crisp and divine.
Each bite a memory, pure and true.
Piping hot, served with ice cream, shine.
Indulge in tradition, share anew.
Each slice, mine to forever pursue.
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