Best Almond Poems
Orchard of ruffles,
Exploding light-pink petals:
A blizzard of bloom.
Cherries are divine like starlight
Heavenly scent satisfies me
Every whiff is a good memory
Roses envy this elegant scent
Rivers of almonds with cherries
Youth surrounds its beauty
Almost only almond
Layers of cherries inside
Mystical scent slides upon my skin
Only name brand lotion is best
Near luxury but not quite luxury
Delicate yet strong together
barely pink blossoms
Vincent’s funeral blanket
lay atop his grave
Kathryn McLoughlin Collins
July 26, 2012
Grandma with the almond eyes
Needed a seat on the metro
On a warm Wednesday
Afternoon-
I stood up and guided
Her to mine
As she smiled at me
With whatever was left
Of her eighty-eight
Year old teeth
And although I am
Usually the last one in line
When it comes to
Doing what’s right-
I still felt like
I owed her a lot.
This grandma could be
The cute little
Baby girl whose
Two toothed smile
And big brown eyes
Caused my
Great grand parents to
Decide they wanted
To have a child.
She could be
The woman who
Made the vase
That was set on
A table in a cafe
And triggered a conversation
Between my parents
On their first
Date.
Or her husband could be
The man who left that
Banana peel on
The floor somewhere
In Rainy Beirut
During the 1970’s
Hence causing my
Dad to slip into
Mother’s arms.
She could be
The person who
Sold my father the
Rose he gave mother
On Valentine’s Day.
She could be
The uttermost reason
For my existence.
Or she could be some
Random old lady-
I still gave her my seat anyway.
Almond blossom, not amaryllis...
sweetness against pridefulness.
Say it with some intense feeling...
seek that flower expressing loving.
Almond blossom or lemon blossom...
revering love with an incredible charm.
Childness must not be unfaithfulness...
feel the sublimest joy of blessedness.
There are sweet memories with a primrose...
be captivated by a cheerful, delicate pink rose.
Almond blossom over a bunch of beauties...
you wouldn't let your choice ruin possibilities.
Oh, did you forget about the white water lily?
You may need it for truthfulness and fidelity.
It stood magnificently in front of our Churchyard,
Like the sacred fig tree before any temple-yard;
My going to church, as a boy, had no other reason,
Than picking all bird-dropped fruits, as a mission;
Collecting as many as possible hastily,
Pushing them into my knickers-pocket quietly;
Thinking of them all through the Holy Mass,
Waiting for the priest to say the final grace;
Hurrying to a corner where no humans see,
Place, as lonely as the very loneliness could be;
Savouring the sour-sweet taste spread over it,
Then breaking it with stones to get the nuts in it;
Quantity of it equaled as little as a butter drip,
Or as much as ten mustard seeds put as a strip;
Relishing it as though nectar of ancient sages,
Coming down to mine tongue from all the ages;
In youth tastes changed and matters mattered,
And this almond became very old fashioned;
Burgers, Pizzas, hotdogs and all tasted well,
Though, consuming them, I often was unwell;
I saw boys and girls picking almonds as I did,
And hurrying to corners and I understood;
The ‘grown-up’ in me prohibited me from doing so,
It’s hence I hid my child within, as a rainbow;
Abroad, I almost forgot the Indian almond tree,
As within me, I was bored and never really free;
I had my worries of marriage and children,
Who’d care for a tree with no monetary gain?
It’s when I went to my home town casually,
It’s under that tree I found my future lily;
We married and got children who grew,
Both with tastes so modern and new;
Yet, it’s when once we visited the churchyard,
My younger lingered over that fruit so thrilled;
We offered him sweet almonds from stores,
And supermarkets that made him to uproar;
He collected for long as much as he could,
And each little one he collected for him he hid;
He too, later, had his dreams and worries,
Sophistications seismically so seduce, seize;
Church now demolished and grounds cleared,
For newer one to construct all well renewed;
I found this almond tree got fully uprooted,
And thrown into a corner like an old harp muted;
I cried and cried till I could cover the tears,
As though I’d hidden my feelings for many years…
30 July 2021
Finding Your Muse Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Regina McIntosh
Dear friend,
I am trying to master the ancient art of Almond Milking. It's quite difficult and my sweetie hasn't had a drink of almond milk in months. I started with cats to improve my dexterity, but they kept getting away and the little stinkers kept scratching me. The great thing about almonds is that they tend to be a bit more co-operative. I am hopeful that by Christmas I will have achieved my goal.
There is one question I would appreciate an answer to, how do I find the nipple? I thought it was at the pointy end and as I was simultaneously squeezing the ends of two almonds they shot out from my fingers. I was mortified when they inadvertently struck the buttocks of a lady police officer. She turned around with such blinding speed I was surprised...What surprised me even more was that she drew and shot her Taser. Ironically both leads pierced my nipples.
One last thing, do you know how I can get milk stains out of my shirt???
Sincerely,
Donald P. Thump
This piece was inspired by my friend David McKay after he sent the following email to me. His comment was the result of an earlier conversation about the scene in the movie "Meet the Fockers." In the movie Ben Stiller says, "You can milk anything with nipples." Robert Deniro responds, "I have nipples, can you milk me?"
David's email: Thanks for joining us. Nice to see you and Mary again, and remember Richard "You can milk anything with nipples" Lol!
Ttyl!
David McKay
Sent from iPhone
An Almond Tree
Elvira was walking her dog, a poodle, in a landscape
of rounded hills, when she fell into a cylindrical
borehole; her dog waited for her to come up again,
she didn´t, and since it was getting dark it ran home.
In the night an almond tree grew out of the hole
it had had white and pink flowers forever blooming.
In the morning people went looking for Elvira,
the dog led the way, and when they came to the tree
it sat down, wagged its tale and happily barked.
Elvira was never found. When the search was over
everyone walked home, but the dog stayed by the tree
only came at night to be fed; and people reckoned
it was the last place the mute had seen Elvira.
The dog was happy playing around the tree catching
falling petals when not snuggled up sleeping by its
trunk, people smiled and called the tree Elvira.
The faithful cur didn´t come home one evening it
had, just like Elvira, disappeared into the long night.
Beside the almond tree a miniature version grew it
too flowered all year; between them gossamer full
of dawn pearls glittered.
In this blue hour between branches
The waxing gibbous moon
Hangs like an almond blossom petal
Gleaming bright at noon
And the little tree that wreaths it
So breathtakingly blooms
That I’m inclined to float away
With this almond blossom moon.
"Almond Eyes"
She moves like the ocean at twilight’s call
Golden curls where sunbeams fall
Almond eyes with fire inside
A depth where quiet dreams reside
With her, the world begins to bend
No start, no finish, no need to mend
The stars align, the path unfolds
A story written long untold
We mix the sky, we shape the tide
With just a glance, the winds abide
No force, no weight, yet all feels right
Like daybreak melting into night
She is my fire, my whispered spell
A love too rare for time to tell
With every movement, with every word,
She is the song that’s always heard.
Lev
----------
Note*
A poetic reflection on a love that flows with harmony, where every glance and movement creates an unspoken connection. Inspired by the depth of her almond eyes, the poem captures the guiding power of her gaze and the perfect synchronicity between them.
dainty darling blossoms~
are floating fluffy clouds
of ivory and petunia
hanging like empyrean jewels
'neath the vibrant skies
of turquoise and royal blue
fingers that wrinkled in snow
tightly holding those gems ~
like you hold my hands
as we dance ~
in unison with
the lovely melody
whispered by the breeze
rich sweet aroma~
lingering in the daylight
feeds our hungry heart
retelling old love stories
kept in each blossoming bud
3 March 2021
Notes: Almond Blossoms is from a group of several paintings made in 1888 and 1890 by Vincent van Gogh in Arles and Saint-Rémy, southern France of blossoming almond trees. The works reflect the influence of Impressionism, Divisionism, and Japanese woodcuts.( Photo and info credits to Wikipedia).
All Yours ( March 3) Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Briand Strand
1st place
Almond Tree and Prisoners
As a child I lived near a farm a farm that was
next door to a prison camp. Russian prisoners
marched up and down trying to keep warm
it was January with much frost, year of 1945
I thought of this today on my walk passed my
almond tree that is situated so good it catches
most of the westerly sun, yet hidden behind
a Holm oak protected by Nordic wind blasts.
My tree is already flowering, it has pink petals
shivers a bit dressed in a delicate nightdress.
The Russians had to wait longer for their spring
when it came, it was false one, they were sent
home and put in prison camps for surrendering
to the enemy. For some the winter is endless.
vanilla almond milk with a hint of honey
that is what you feel like to me
every moment with you is a cool breeze that is wonderfully everlasting
i look forward to seeing you every nanosecond on the nanosecond
i am surprised by how much i actually miss all parts and meanings of you
vanilla almond milk with a hint of honey
that is what you taste like to me
every experience with you is a different taste in all defining amazements....front and back....in between and behind
i look forward to hearing your voice every nanosecond on the nanosecond
i am surprised by how much you actually dominate all areas of my thoughts....even the cobwebbed ones
vanilla almond milk with a hint of honey
that is taste on the tips of your lips when you kiss my heart
every single day with you like edutainment with positive depth and meaning
i look forward to being loved by you and reciprocating that every nanosecond on the nanosecond
i am surprised by how much i actually treasure you....treasuring me....
You tasted spring’s young almonds green;
sweeter than vestal nectarine
then all your innocence is lost;
forever to the wind is tossed.
The seed you planted long ago;
time will see it ripen and grow;
as the summer sun slow unfolds,
the carapace no longer holds
Fall harvest fruit is eager reaped;
upon a bride and groom are heaped;
Young virgins take them to their bed
to dream, foretell, of whom they wed.
When the end is near, as foretold
and the winter’s dark, bitter cold
makes the future labored to see
each year blossoms the almond tree.
Shorty-red with them dreds down past dat collarbone, come here let me see if I
can’t get you home. Dem lips dem eyes check the biceps the gears is Guess
only the best for almond-joy. Not the average guy or man, far from a boy. Call him
a king, red-bone dream, vanilla-almond ice cream. Rum raisin in the bed springs
make me melt even in my dreams. Likes the concept of a wedding, but won’t
wear the ring. Bling mello cause he a yellow fello got a smile that makes a sista
tick inside. Crazy sexy cool put me in the mood. Almond boo can I be with you? I
can tell you what you want to hear. Wear whatever it is or isn’t you want me to
wear whoa! You like a pina-colada, lemon twist If I gotta switch my hips, bet I
could make you flip take a sip of this Black Girl Juice original boost make you fell
real loose, It’s so profuse the way you absolutely abuse me