If a demon sours of harrowing,
cannot the Angels sing in barren too?
birds weigh less than the tall grass,
and a sight is much more beautiful,
than we could have ever imagined
of nature's true gift of existing
and the angel's bless of receiving
of the grand in our hearts
can be of swapping
of the apricots in the tarts....
Sweet and ever so brief.
Giant basket of apricots rising
Scattering its contents across the east
Revealing frosty dried autumn leaves
Used as mulch to make plants feast
Light ice upon the birdbath
Birds will have ice water to drink
A chilled bath this morning
Will make everything shrink
The chorus of the songbirds
Singing my favorite tunes
I love what they've orchestrated
They're my missing link
All winter there was mostly silence
Now the love birds are singing again
Thank you, God for the magic
On You I can depend
apricot tea in Thailand
breakfast fruit set up on balcony
welcoming rain greeted us
I felt grateful that I had come
this gentle ambiance worth remembering
Never worry, worry not -
You’re my pretty apricot.
You are here. my peach is not.
I tossed her when she grew a spot.
In a day or two, you will see
Just how we meet our destiny.
In my garden, there’s an apricot
tree with pink fragrant blossoms that
fall from the branches one by
one to the ground. From a
tree, then tiny green
leaves sprouting out.
The fruit it
makes and
grows.
On
the full
apricot
tree, the young fruit
cover the branches
with sweet, juicy orange
apricots. They are very
delicious; even the blue jays
and crows eat the fruit right off the tree.
there was a snake bathing in the sunset
draped around the veins, the dead branches
winter never welcomes reptiles
but it wore twilight like a heat lamp jacket
back flat, tobacco treat burning sweet
the switchgrass swayed like waves in wind
the blades carried my wading body as it bobbed
and swayed to the scent of serenity
lavender and apricot bled in the sky
a marriage of pastels to perfect this pastiche
this is art incarnate none could ever reach
so please don't let me wake from this tranquil dream
Struck! Evening murk ink sky infultrated
Weapon copper key turns lock apricot
Crystal busy bunched clouds fluro painted
Fleshy salmon jump aboard paper yacht
Storm dealt in spledour of unicorn wings
Rooftop hooves unheard by screen bound many
Peach plumage gallops gaily, ombre brings
Daisy daggers to grey ordinary
Pirates fear nearness to pole flamingo
Neon flag slaps unsuspecting sailors
Phospher aqua plankton blown where wind goes
Rosey riot ocean show's outrageous
Rust runs from pegasus horn, orange spark
Spilt pink electric brush strokes puncture dark
30th August
Thank Jesus
for this Show
Apricot Trees
David J Walker
My mother randomly spoke of the beauty
She saw in trees that lined
The streets in town
The boughs and branches placed
in parks and esplanades on Arbor days in the
all but forgotten past now hidden in the ether
Of dementia that was literally riddling her mind
But If I listened carefully
There was a story connected in
Every 3rd or 4th word about her
Childhood on a prairie farm
with a large garden and
Fowl of every kind
Where her mother
Planted apricot trees in line
by the dirt road leading to their
Front door
and plans to make jam
that fall
I stood by the bed as
mother lay dying
Reaching with her right hand
I imagined her as a
Young girl picking apricots
Near the farmhouse
Taking her time
Going down the line
tree to tree
Carefully placing the ripened fruit
in her apron pockets
I imagined her smiling again
in a youthful glow
That I had never seen before
The day she had to go and
Help make jam
Purple butterflies flooded the meadow that morn
Cherry blossoms, Queen Anne’s lace and daisies smiled
This was the reunion of the apricot faerie and her unicorn
A prophecy fulfilled, a joyous gift of extra meadow light.
Ribbons of exquisite loveliness flooded the our hearts
As we recognized the gloriousness of the celestial pair.
They were delicate, gracious, unwittingly orchidaceous.
The punctilious sun smiled at their quintessential loveliness.
A beauteous sight observed by those who came to fawn.
Deer, fox, raccoons, opossum; we all sat beyond their sight.
Communal silence greeted them as they conversed among flowers.
A promise of consummate well being lingered after they had gone.
Will they be back? We wondered, none of us knowing.
Appreciating we had observed a gossamer loveliness
Which most beings even celestial ones, never experience.
what will you write of the apricot,
when the fruit has fallen for the last time?
'and the last apricot was
like his last letter
received a decade ago;
that was very little to quench my thirst
but his memories were enough to last for the lifetime'!
He fuel the flames of her esse
He is the essences of her poem
He was in her beneath like inebriation
His philtres and potions arouses welding
"He never returned and how time flies;
The apricot jam spread over the toast was his favourite
The coral fruit enfolded his tastes and touches
And the aroma of the juicy flesh dampen his ardour"
All I remember is 'the apricot and his last letter'.
Apricot skin
Apricot face
Apricot hands
Apricot knees
Apricot apricots
Apricot cat
Apricot paint
Apricot baby's bottom
In my world I always think
Of a pricey apricot dress
My husband's pal paid way too much for it
Wanting to impress a girl who modeled it at a table for us.
Wanting to show off that he had three hundred dollars,
He gave them three hundred dollars for that dress
To surprise his girlfriend, Kathy.
Kathy was surprised.
She would have never chosen this dress.
It was so expensive, he pouted until she wore it to
Every dinner, supper, lunch, and finally to play racquetball in.
Apricot always reminds me of poor Kathy and her irritation.
There once was a woman named Sandy
Who liked jelly candies and apricot brandy
While her teetotaler husband was away
She drank a bottle of brandy that day
When he was home enjoyed only the candy
apricot sunrise
seen through pear tree's white blossoms....
birds quietly sleep
The colour of apricot is warm,
and like the jam you see in shops.
It's like a symphony.
It's like a symphony of gold
that you find you have forgotten
suddenly.
The colour of apricot is not raspberry.
It won't make you think of red in the night
and scream.
It's like peach, but more rounded somehow,
like a fat woman you see on a beach
who really should ...
The colour of apricot is what it is -
like all the apricots you see in
Madame Paul's window.
But she's mean. Don't go to her.
She'll give you apricots gone bad
and out the window.
------------------------------------------------
4/19/2016
Contest - Favorite
Sponsor - Casarah Nance
3rd place win
Oh cute white blossoms
Wow! What a clear sign of spring!!
Aroma of pink
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