Best Berry Poems
There is a very trendy Smoothie Bar down town
Called ‘FruitiBaTuti’ but known to all as FBT
Where a colourful bunch of close friends work
All happy, hardworking and dedicated to their duty
FBT is a busy hip and happening place
Daily, customers line out the door
Waiting for smoothies considered supreme
Like they have never experienced before
Paul Passionfruit is the owner of FBT
A fair and fun boss
FBT is his love and passion
His staff have never seen him cross
FBT’S manager is Annie Apple
A fresh faced ,crisp, sweet girl
Until she starts drinking cider
Then her inner party girl unfurls
Second in charge is Freddie Fig
A charismatic ,charming lad
So chillaxed that he doesnt give a fig
When FBT gets crazy busy mad
Louie Lemon is a member of staff
He is known for being quite sour
Yet when working at FBT
He is a honey and often the man of the hour
Grapes is another sweet member of the team
Who is kind and cares a whole bunch
He likes to party with Annie Apple
Drinking way too much wine when it comes to the crunch
Mango is a popular staff member
Pretty ,happy , her heart aglow
Regularly with a new boyfriend in tow
As she keeps letting her man-go
Pineapple is the newest member of staff
She is keen to learn though at times a little unsure
Her big dream is to eventually be ‘just an apple’
She pines to possess the apple allure
Dates is the Casanova of the staff
Often on dating apps swiping left or right
Looking for the perfect, soft ,luscious woman
Though he secretly has Mango in his sight
Peter Pomegranate is the joker of the team
Funny , forever making everyone laugh
He comes from a little village in England
Nicknamed Pommie by both customers and staff
Strawberry, Blueberry and Raspberry are sisters
They are the casual and relief staff at FBT
Sweet, bright and accomodating
Each sister is berry, berry special indeed
Cool music is played at FBT
With conversation and laughter abound
The vibe and ambience is upbeat and lively
Come down, meet the staff, have a smoothie and enjoy the surrounds!
Belva Berry
1889 - 1905
I truly never asked to be born.
I truly never wanted any of this.
But what choice did I have?
What choice does any one of us have?
With our first breath
We begin our long slow descent into the darkness.
With our last breath
We end this long steady slide
From nothing to nothing
From dust to dust.
I was the girl who lived in the corner house
Over on Newlin and Broadway streets.
I was the shy freckled daughter
Of Lunetta and James Berry.
And I was the unknown silent witness
To the crushing tragic tumble
Of my secret esoteric friend, Elvin.
Elvin Allen.
Elvin and me walked hand in hand
To the eastern hills that day.
Elvin and me stared into each other’s eyes and smiled that day.
And Elvin and me dared to dance on the sweet oily dirt that day.
There in the midst of the black fields,
The land of the black oil machines
That rise high like chess pieces
The Bishops of industry and money!
We kissed that day
And it was our first kiss.
And then, he climbed up the ladder there.
I saw him fall,
Fall like a falcon from the heavens.
And I knew he was gone.
Please forgive me God for running away.
Please forgive me God for never telling anyone
Of the first kiss, our kiss,
That long ago day in the black fields
In the eastern hills
Of this Quaker town.
Simmering,hot, pancakes, flushed.
Battered, beating, bruised,
Syrup, sweet, melted, dripping,
Brown now, peeling, ripping
Dark berries, smashed oozing bluish - black red,
Hands and words tossed instead,
Pancake Burnt! Pancake dead!
tantalizing treat
mustard burgeoning crimson ~
mockingbird lipstick
(June Full Moon – Algonquian, Ojibwe, Dakota, and Lakota)
THE BLACKER THE BERRY..
Misconception dims the path that leads her brown Clay
To shallow waters where she can never float like a butterfly but always stings like a bee
She is only good at germinating in dim waters like
Deep intellectual conversations
Always warrant entry into shallow society
Dictating that she could not have possibly been supple at first sight
She needed to be probed without pressing her buttons
It’s her stellar personality that beams like a floodlight in flood times
When it’s raining men but she can’t compete with the yellow flame
So she has to keep her battery charged
When she guides the men easily beguiled by the sparkling light
That has them having need for a yellow bone to chew even when they lack the appetite for it.
“Between us men, it is better than that organic fruit diet
The plate is too blackened by her sunned pigment”
The blacker the berry the sweeter her juice in private
While in public the males ride shot gun on the yellow ferry
It’s the societal Olympics where everybody needs to have the same shade trophy,
She the blacker berry watching from the sidelines while fixing her paint
A by-product of lightening products has her gaining first sight attraction
Because now she can quite be the woman to wear on his arm like a cuff link
Arresting other suitors’ attention because now she dazzles at night
And she can enjoy the benefits of her top coating
Even though deep within she is layered with insecurity.
***Written for all dark skinned beauties who feel less beautiful because of their shade of black
Chuck Berry is eighty one
still performing and having fun,
it is a while since fifty- five
when his repertoire became alive.
© Harry J Horsman 2012
Relative of the
Potato, tomato, is
The Wolf-berry shrub
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/nature-6.php
Bitter sweet berry
Metaphor-celebration
Native peoples loss
Bloom like a crane-fowl
Shortened name over time.
Hospitality
Given by native
People, friends, whose strange gods set
Their end destiny
He’d take dates back to his place for late-night
pancakes smeared with golden butter, doused
in luscious boysenberry sauce.
Halfway through this small repast,
he’d lean forward, letting
moist berry lips move
softly over
his lovely
lady’s
mouth.
For PD's Kissing Game Poetry Contest
and now for Nathan's Anything Goes
Many of time have
I sat upon earthy ground,
amongst Huckle Berry patches
gorging in Huckle Berry heaven
with glutton lips painted purple.
Jerry Cherry loves a berry,
Be it black or blue,
He also loves the red ones,
He ate quite a few.
He didn't like picking them,
So he bought them from a shop,
He mixed some with ice-cream
To make a berry slop.
It's early yet for picking,
Only one black kiss
At the end of pinky clusters,
First fruit,
Faceted like flies' eyes.
The biggest are up too high,
In too far, where snakes live.
Somebody could lose their balance,
Fall inside.
Somebody could get trapped in brambles.
She used to go blackberrying.
At five o'clock on summer mornings,
She'd put on Dad's old overalls with the
Legs rolled up.
The rattle of buckets and baskets.
We scorned her jams. "Can't we
Have jam from the store instead?"
Matching our distain to guilt at the
Sun-red face
Returning, the long scratches on her arms.
She's gone now but the scene replays,
Greenberry, whiteberry, redberry, black!
Like part of a promise held out; the rest is
Mine to keep.
I see berry, berry, berry until I sleep.
Darkness overcomes me as the night slowly settles in,
What’s left of the light seems to hurt my eye’s, I’ve over worked my body again, I need
to….Relax.
I slowly strike the match on the surface of it’s keep, I hate the smell.. It won’t last,
The flame gently sways on the tip as I light the wick,
My candle of choice is the sweet colour of pink, With the irresistible sent of mixed berry’s.
I sit there in the dark with only the warm and tender glow of the candlelight,
As the luxurious sent of wild, freshly picked berry’s swirls around my mind,
And relaxes my soul, I close my eye’s and begin to think… To think…To think of…
I’m all alone in my mind, there are bushes upon bushes of fresh juicy berry’s,
Blackberry’s, raspberry’s, strawberry’s, blueberry’s and many more,
As I work my way down the endless fields of berry bushes,
I pick only the sweetest of the pick and place them within a basket made of fine straw.
Occasionally placing one in my mouth while making sure not to be greedy,
The warm wind gently blows across my face and I know it’s time to go,
I finish up and make off for home.
The smell of freshly boiled pasta fills my nose as a walk though the door,
I place the berry’s on the table and go up stairs …. There will be a surprise when I come
down,
I bath, dry and change my clothes, As I make my way down the stairs a gentle voice calls
my
name,
I gaze at the table in amazement, Only she could make something so ordinary,
Into a masterpiece.
Vegetable soup and crusty bread to start, For the main course.. Pasta bake and bolognaise,
Then to finish… the crème de la crème…
Sweet freshly picked, wild berry crumble toped with lemon sorbet ice cream that melts in the
mouth.
The taste lingers in my mouth hanging on to every taste bud.
I open my eye’s, It’s late, I softly blow out the candle while still taking in the sent,
I walk up stairs, undress and drift off to sleep… To dream… To dream of…
Ode to my berry vine,
with tart berries so divine
you are sweet like summer rain
you drive my palate so insane.
Your berries are so ripe and plump
I wish to eat you by the clump
tasty with your juices pleasing
all my taste buds, you are teasing.
Thank you berries for your gifts,
that snuggly fits between my lips
as I envelop your bits of grace
I close my eyes between each taste.
Black berries, you can do no wrong,
you are my tummies Favorite song
and next spring I will feel the same
to taste and love you once again.
Monkeys
In trees
Eating
Berries
Berries
Make drunk
Monkeys
Ker plunk
Rolling
On ground
Stand up
Fall down
Sleep off
Drunk state
Monkeys
Mistake
23rd March 2017