Best Blueberries Poems
fresh picked blueberries
stimulate poetic pens ~
my muse just wants pie
Wild blueberries taste
beyond the pale
of domestic cultivars,
sweetness cut by granite acidity
underlain by the spice
of marginal existence.
A blueberry’s destiny
is realized through consumption.
I satisfy as many as I can
to deposit their future
a couple portages down
tomorrow.
An older poem recycled as it fit's Roy's contest to a "P"
picking blueberries
from fruit laden bushes--
a snake slithers by
7/3/15
blueberries gasoline and prostate gland
breast cancer Wonderbread and pacifier
controlled experiment space travel and honey
peanuts inductive reasoning and electricity
tornadoes torture chamber and biscuits
copyright car radio cantaloupe
golden eagle lunch break tomato
Romanian songbook rhubarb and barbed wire
always hungry nevermind meat loaf
goosefoot mango juice Ipad
mosquito bite city street and broccoli
Chinese cabbage female sex drive water sport
pure contralto goat yogurt new year
black death white light and green tea
she sticks out her tongue at me. . .blueberries
Blue--a "vision" of beauty is the blueberry loaded with blue
Blue--"gentle" the dew as it kisses each tender morsal of skin
Blue--soft and "quiet" the foosteps that approach the bush loaded with blue
Blue--cobalt blue blueberries "excite" the taste buds as they touch the tongue
Blue--blueberry crunch'n warm from the oven cinnamon 'aroma" fills the air
Vision__sight
gentle__touch
quiet__hear
excite__taste
aroma__smell
A "vision" of the blueberry bush loaded with its blue
Awesome gift of "touch" granted to caress each berry
During morn's "quiet", gently embraced by the dew
One picked to "excite" the taste buds, two picked while I tarry
Many picked for dessert, "aroma" floats, awaits cream from dairy
Flavors Marry
Written: Saturday October 24, 2015
Just saying the words "blueberry pie"
changes the way you feel.
And it's no wonder it finds a place of honor
at the end of a home-cooked meal,
for there is no need to pit nor peel
this sweet-tart low-bush fruit,
just add a dash of sugar and a flaky shell
and a little bit of love to boot.
When you say the words "blueberry pie"
most everyone turns their head,
anxious to learn if they can have a taste
for it's better than cake or cornbread.
And isn't it fun to see its purply goo
on your fingers or encircling your lips,
or showing everyone your purply tongue
as though you were in a pie-eating championship?
And have you ever smelled a blueberry pie
emerging hot and fresh from the oven?
Does the aroma trigger a thousand fond memories
and send you into the kitchen running?
And is there anything more enticing to see
than a slice dripping with vanilla ice cream?
And then gobbling an extra slice or two
is like living out a blueberry dream.
And who used to bake those blueberry pies?
Your grandmother or a neighborly friend?
And didn't its savory buttery crusts
make you want dessert time to never end?
So how do we know that a blueberry pie
has changed the way you feel?
That look in your eye and that smile on your face
are quite hard to conceal.
copyright © 2019 Gregory Firlotte
Part of my family went pick'n blueberries
Kaizley only 18 months old picked quite a few
She was a pound heavier when she left the bush
Taking care of the lower limbs, she came away blue
Karter was busy reaching in the middle
A handful in his mouth, he was quite subtle
Then a handful in his bag, as swift as a fly
I could say that even he guttled
Phyllis several feet taller reached into the top
She loved to get the rabbit eye kind
And in her mouth they'd pop
A few handfuls in her bag so berries reclined
Long she will remember her day at mom's
She can tell her grandchild about blueberry bushes
Life on the farm and how it sometimes isn't easy
But picking those blueberries is fun and also hiding in the rushes
I DREAMED OF ALASKA BLUEBERRIES LAST NIGHT
bear-stolen
blue wanton kisses
white night picked
Blueberries on a bush
blooms a sweet indigo
berry wearing a crown
Blissful taste oven warm
baked in a pie, muffins,
buttered warm pancakes, or
blended breakfast smoothie
8/16/2016
Pleiades B - Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Kim Merryman
1 original, poem in the Pleiades form starting with the letter B.
Pleiades form: 1 word title starting with B
7 lines each starting with B
6 syllables in each line
Each line must describe or tell about the title.
We’ve come from far away
Like all the others.
A morning spent on lonesome dirt roads
Searching for the blueberry farm;
Endless acres of hazy blue groves.
The pickers trickle in.
We step out of our cars
Into the dust with straw hats
To block the blistering sun.
The owner sits on her porch
With stacks of clean buckets
And a chest of cold bottled water.
It is the hottest day of the year.
Dirt and sweat gather on our necks
As we hurry to the shady rows.
It is on sad occasion that we come
To pick the wonderful berries,
Disturbing them from their thickets,
Taking them before their end is due.
The sweetest ones taunt us
Just out of arm’s reach.
We are no better than the canker
And worms that kill.
The owner graciously snaps a photo
To mark the day.
We huddle close in goofy grins,
Sun burnt with buckets teaming.
Take a look at your muffin, and look at mine.
This is a scenario that doesn’t appear fine.
This morning, we are off to an awful start.
There are no blueberries in mine while yours is falling apart.
You have to admit this is a terrible sight.
I have to do everything myself to make sure it’s done right.
I want an equal amount of blueberries in each muffin here.
I don’t care how long it takes. Do I make myself clear?
I am appalled to see all of the negatives going on.
If you do not comply with my wishes, then you are gone.
And by the way, fire that slots manager jerk.
My place is not where I want him to work.
He doesn’t show the least amount of competency.
I don’t care if he’s juiced in. To me, he is history.
Based on the 1995 film “Casino”
A baby boomer, late bloomer, at times a doom and gloom er.
Eats blueberries, says Hail Mary's, believes in leprechauns and fairies.
Works on commission, has good nutrition, too impatient to ever go fishing.
Sings in C, off key but always very happily.
Never a stoic, brave and heroic. Lately feeling mesozoic.
Blueberries rushing down five at a time
from loaded branches tom-tom the bottom
of a coffee can until growing numbers
mute the beat. Super pickers fill
two cans an hour in bumper season.
Pies and muffins march from ovens
and cereal looks richer than a lapis crown.
In blueberry time we reach to the highest hoards.
On these gems of the Sun we feast like lords.
Warm, gently flavoured
blueberry lemon pancakes
syrup and whipped creme