Best Almond Tree Poems
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
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.
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.
rainy day sunshine
pretty almond tree spirit
dancing with our ancestors
frolicking even
with whispery giggling
they are lightening us up
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.
Whenever the time of the flowering almond trees arrived,
we climbed the tree and played among its branches
and so, among flowers and games,
we contemplated life from our childhood.
Ok. Day
On a day like this
With sunlight
Clear sky and mild breeze
And I know
There will not be a day
Just like this again
There will be other days
Just as good now as the almond
Tree bears fruit.