Best Apricots Poems
No Wait in Vain : Poets Meet
For decades I waited
and you did not come
to listen to my rude insertion
finger a sound at back of my throat
and the vibration of my name
For decades I wanted to meet
a small mountain as I read her
plain words in innocence
a bell in her Heart rang deep
with children running sweet
For decades I longed to touch
a struggling mottled moth
as he ached for new wings
smooth ebony cheeks
passionate with letters of adoration
For decades I watched for
a painter to mirror my songs
uncover a talkative witch who
still trampled from place to place
broken shoes echoing my silent breath
For decades I wanted a smooth ride
where conversation was free of tasks
words on both seats of equal length
with ripe apricots for the scoffing
almond chocolates wrapped in red
So I upped my thumb to a veteran one
who read from his leathered collection
notepads and pencils strewn about
space in warehouse oozed slivered glee
No wait in vain !
Back then,
backyards were big enough
to nurture a growing soul
and provide a space
for the earth to play out
its seasons in full rehearsal.
There were wide tracks
of grass, trees to climb,
old sheds to rummage
with their interiors full of tools
and bric-a-brac
webbed in history.
There was food - ripe tomatoes
and corn from a vegetable patch,
grapes swelling
under a cool canopy of vines,
soft skins bursting
their dark sweetness
inside expectant mouths,
almonds, apricots and the luscious
dribble of a warm peach
down sticky cheeks.
Some had roaming chickens
with their bounty of eggs.
Backyards were blotting paper
for a child's hurt, a hiding place
to get away, a theater
for projecting the phantasies
of a sheriff or a princess
high in a golden tower.
And in summer, a sprinkler
casting a gauntlet of cold spray
for tiny feet to challenge.
Then it all ends
when backyards become
too small and more exotic places
call a restless soul to leave
its Eden and break the spell
of its beginning.
Cleaning the dust never ends,
There is always a girl in a wardrobe,
Who does not let go of your hand,
There is always a girl in a museum
who does not look at Matisse and Cézanne,
There is always a girl in a garden
Who steals apricots and oranges,
Cleaning the dust never ends,
There is always a cat on a pink chair
Who yawns seeing you happy,
There is always a blue cat in yellow sheets,
Who waits for someone to stroke him a hundred times,
A young cat in trouble who thinks
to the mango that you covet.
Cleaning the dust never ends,
A wild orchid asks for water and love,
A wild orchid is still waiting
May a poet change his life and color,
It is enough for Matisse to comb flowers
To remove the dust from the world, that
Grapes in the fruit basket.
While waiting at the river Styx, in twisted time untaught,
from branches of the gallows tree, in recollections wrought,
your soul, a beggar’s blanket, hangs in crazy quilted knots,
with dangling pearls and diamond studs in dripping crimson clots,
midst gaping wounds and bulging eyes like fouling apricots,
for wrapped like rope around your throat’s the Reaper’s grim garrote.
"It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle, than for a rich man to enter into the kingdom of God." (Matthew 19:24)
Continued from Part 1
“Upon your knees in golden naves, while peeking through the slots,
You horded thirty silver pieces, downed a whiskey shot,
Then crossed yourself and wrapped yourself in furs of ocelots,
And danced on cleated cloven hoofs in purple polka-dots,
Then drank His blood from chalice cups with pious afterthoughts.
“You’ve treated men like mongrels chained, like little flies to swat,
By doing what you wanted to, instead of what you aught;
You’ve wiped your nose with dollar bills and paid your serfs with snot,
But when you’ve paused to preen your pride, you’ve scrubbed a scarlet blot.
“In ashes of our victories: the diamonds that you sought,
The crock of gold, the Golden fleece of bogus Argonauts -
In mirrors of your lifelessness, the evils you begot.
“The haunted winds strew leaves of time across a shallow plot
Where now, beneath the frozen stones blanched bodies bathe in rot,
Disintegrate, return to dust to feed Forget-Me-Nots
Amidst the bane and pits of pain where broken bones lie caught.
“In fields above the catacombs and tombs of Camelot
The black and withered tree of Death arises from the spot
Where oft beneath a bleeding moon you hid your gold in pots
Embedding doubts neath barren bogs where roots of wormwood squat.
“While waiting at the river Styx, in twisted time untaught,
From branches of the gallows tree, in recollections wrought,
Your soul, a beggar’s blanket, hangs in crazy quilted knots,
With dangling pearls and diamond studs mid dripping crimson clots
And gaping wounds with bulging eyes like fouling apricots,
For wrapped in chains around your throat, the Reaper’s grim garrote.”
Yes, that’s the fate of all your kind, disclosed by Wise Men taught.
But that was, oh, so long ago, by now you have forgot…
End
United Colours: Orange
Sponsor: Silent One
Pathological agreements made from your spicy allegations,
neurotic contributions based on a fire lit from clay,
all the inescapable state of affairs from intimidating celebrations
my amber ways, your mania stays, controlling on display.
Your jealousy contingent upon my belated positive actions,
my fear portrayed from your rusted all-consuming conditions,
you've torn my ability to react in sanity, that's only a fraction,
I'm left like a prey from a tiger meal, a life full of constriction.
Burnt fanatic beliefs you have seen me as your property,
your bronze so metallic it shines through out the universe,
I need an escape from your unrighteous crowned monarchy,
you never knew how to treat me right, and put me first.
It has been stated from the fellowship I carry outside you,
I deserve fields of marigolds with apricots for dessert,
I made myself a promise to stay away, now we are through,
no more bittersweet memories, I am done being hurt.
Different shades of orange:
1. Fire 2. Clay 3. Amber 4. Rust 5. Tiger 6. Bronze 7. Metallic
8. Marigolds 9. Apricots 10. Bittersweet 11. Spice 12. Burnt
~Date Written: March 4, 2016~
Cornucopia
By Dane Smith-Johnsen
The Harvest V E
E Tradition: * Prunes G
N Long *Pecans G
O Long *Peaches I
^ WE SING Ago *Plums and Pears E
^ JOYFULLY Man *String Beans Green Beans and Lima Beans S
^ UNTO Would *Carrots Potatoes Wheat Rye Rice and Corn
The THEE FILL *Strawberries Blueberries Raspberries
Cornucopia a *Walnuts Chestnuts and Brazil Nuts
The Horn of Plenty goat's *Apricots Apples and Almonds
A horn shaped BASKET- horn *Onions Oats and Oranges
Every year its rims will flow over *Pomegranates Cherries
At harvest time- its *Lemons and Limes
It overflows profusely rim * Persimmons
WITH bounty! WITH: * Dewberries
A vast abundance of food * Bananas
Celebrating harvest * Paw Paw
Great Prosperity. * Figs
THANK YOU GOD!
© Dane Ann Smith-Johnsen
August 9, 2009
For Brian Strand's Harvest Contest
To Eat A Peach
Spring is here.
The delicate tree blossoms replace
the delicate white lights of Winter.
From the petals fruit will grow.
Pears, plums, apricots, cherries,
nectarines...
Peaches.
I set the unripe soft rose and yellow
orb on the windowsill.
Two days later I tenderly lift it
and gently squeeze its warmth before
I wash it.
Biting into it...
the sweet liquid is Ambrosia.
The juice runs down my chin onto
my tee.
I greedily suck the peach’s flesh dry.
I daydream as I munch.
Peach cobbler, peach pie with a lattice crust,
peach shortcake, peach muffins,
stewed peaches, peach tea bread,
slices on your cereal, slices in a bowl with cream.
OR...only for dessert?
How would a
chicken breast soaked in a peach marinade taste?
My taste buds begin chattering.
Summer’s here!
corn on the cob, okra, tomatoes:
small ones that pop in your mouth
and big beefy wedges that
garnish crisp celery slices, carrot medallions,
tender Bibb lettuce, sliced mushrooms, cucumbers,
asparagus, broccoli, Vidalia onions, cauliflower...
Watermelon, blueberries, cantaloupe,
strawberries, honeydews, raspberries...
Juicy hot dogs, spicy barbecue, thick charbroiled hamburgers,
hot German potato salad, 3-bean salad, macaroni salad,
potato chips and French onion soup dip,
soft pretzels dipped in brown mustard, popcorn...
chocolate chip cookies, Snickerdoodles,
strawberry shortcake,
chocolate cake with red, white and blue frosting for the 4th,
apple pie
— softball, Mom, doggies —
I awake with a start. There is drool
on my pillow.
Another day begins but it’s really
not another day.
It’s the same day I’ve been living
since 1 May 2017 ~
The day I let the dentist pull
out the last 5 teeth I had
in my lower jaw.
And as I come to consciousness
my tongue pushes
against and spills out over the
the soft toothless tissue that burns constantly
and is covered in a thick gooey saliva ~ place a
teaspoon of Elmer's
glue in your mouth ~ if
you care to have a taste
of my reality.
Summer’s here.
Clear your palate.
Clean your plate.
Barbara Dickenson
1 May 2018
- [ ]
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.
Bleak winter Melbourne morning,
a cold wind coming in
from across the Bay
and blowing down the street,
past the Esplanade Cafe
with the smell of coffee
and warm air spilling out
from an open door.
I stop, look at the cake
and pastry display through
the window, the basket
of freshly baked croissants,
Danish pastries topped with
strawberries and apricots
and glazed with syrup.
A cloud of steam
from the espresso machine
adds a touch of the surreal.
Anticipation moistens my mouth
on the sight of French vanilla
slices plump with custard
and cream, muffins erupting
from their papery patties,
Portuguese tarts, thick slices
of carrot cake topped
with icing. I savor each
with an imaginative bite
and decide my treat…
then groan. I've left my wallet
at home.
( for Deb M )
I never thought I’d keep a record of my pain
or happiness
like candles lighting the entire soft lace
of the air
around the full length of your hair/a shower
organized by God
in brown and auburn
undulations luminous like particles
of flame
But now I do
retrieve an afternoon of apricots
and water interspersed with cigarettes
and sand and rocks
we walked across:
How easily you held
my hand
beside the low tide
of the world
Now I do
relive an evening of retreat
a bridge I left behind
where all the solid heat
of lust and tender trembling
lay as cruel and as kind
as passion spins its infinite
tergiversations in between the bitter
and the sweet
Alone and longing for you
now I do
It was a big backyard,
big enough to hold
the imagination of a boy -
trees to climb,
sheds to explore,
a large lawn to swing a bat
or kick a ball
and in a quiet corner,
a sanctuary for prayer
when my grandmother,
bent over and groaning
with angina, had me
go there and ask God
for help.
There were long summers
of almonds, plump grapes,
peaches and apricots
and cold winters bursting
with big, bright oranges.
There were places where
you could heal a hurt
or hide when bruised and full
of fear. Sad how it grew
smaller with the years
like an old religion,
less important to life,
ignored until it shrank
to the size of a lemon tree
nourished only
by the beer filled bladders
of teenage boys back from
the local pub,
dying for a pee.
We all need sun, O white pulp
Pineapple and soft light, mango
Me first, then the policeman, then Solène,
We need a long Brazilian nap,
in Bahia or on the fine sand of Copacabana.
The tanned skins are full of secrets,
Vitamins, pulp and sunsets
The tanned skins know our defects,
The erotic dreams, you liked so much,
I pray my Sweet that the time amazes you,
We all need sun, O white pulp
Pineapple and soft light, mango
Lyonnais as Parisians with glasses, need it
Acidulous slowness and charming apricots,
Come on, friend, let’s go to Brazil.
On a tous besoin de soleil, O blanche pulpe
D’ananas et de lumière douce, de mangue
Moi le premier et le gendarme, puis Solène,
On a besoin d’une longue sieste brésilienne,
à Bahia ou sur le sable fin de Copacabana.
Les peaux tannées sont remplies de secrets,
De vitamines, de pulpe et de couchers de soleil
Les peaux tannées connaissent nos défauts,
Les songes érotiques , vous ont tant plu,
Je prie ma Douce que le temps vous étonne,
On a tous besoin de soleil, O blanche pulpe
D’ananas et de lumière douce, de mangue
Les lyonnais comme les parisiennes à lunettes,
De lenteurs acidulées et de charmants abricots,
Viens l’amie, embarquons pour le Brésil.
If you want to grow up big and strong,
Listen here, you won't go wrong.
If you want to grow, grow, grow,
Choose all the colors from the rainbow.
We never get enough of green--
Here's the kinds of foods I mean:
Grapes, avocados, lettuce, cabbage, green beans, spinach,
lentils, kiwis, honeydew melons,peas, bell peppers...
If you want to grow, grow, grow,
Choose yellow from the rainbow.
bananas, lemons, golden apples, summer squash, butter, yellow peppers, ...
If you want to grow, grow, grow,
Choose orange from the rainbow.
Cheeses, carrots, mangoes, cantaloups, apricots, peaches, pumpkins, oranges...
If you want to grow, grow, grow,
Choose red from the rainbow.
Strawberries, cherries, tomatoes, meats, raspberries,
grapes, watermelons, apples, plums,
red peppers, radishes, beets, ...
If you want to grow, grow, grow,
Choose purple and blue from the rainbow.
Grapes, cabbage, plums, eggplant, blueberries, ...
If you want to grow, grow, grow,
Choose brown from the rainbow.
Meat, potatoes, pears, coconuts, nuts, whole-grain breads ...
If you want to grow, grow, grow,
Choose white from the rainbow.
Eggs, cheese, parsnips, fish, onions, milk, yogurt,
(chorus)
The greater the variety,
The healthier you'll always be.
Meat, eggs and dairies
grains, fruits, and veggies.
To wash them down there's nothing better
Than big glasses of water.
Wintry white weather whirling westward,
whooshing wildly when winds wrestle.
Snowflakes swirling starting snowy stacks.
Spring showers sprout saplings
some scattering so softly.
Florist fashions flowing florets
flowers form filling flowerpots.
Summer sunshine sets
sending sunrays sideways shimmering so sparkly.
Pool parties prove popular pastime plan.
Fall foliage falling fiercely
Floating, flipping, flopping… fell!
Autumn afternoon adventure
accumulating apples, apricots, and acorns.