Best Cranberries Poems


Premium Member Oh Lord, I Praise October Days

The bogs’ their fruit – the woodlands’ leaf
embrace a ripened red motif,
as cranberries and maples blaze
Oh Lord, I praise October days.

Where starling murmurations dance
a breathless susurration trance,
ballet in blackbird-shape-shift haze
Oh Lord, I praise October days.

And neath the cumulus, the breeze
colludes with stalks in raspy tease,
unfazed we ramble maize-field maze
Oh Lord, I praise October days.

As apple-cider-sunset spills
behind the bluish granite hills,
I’m grateful for my eyes to gaze
Oh Lord, I praise October days.

When rain does bead on pumpkin’s skin
his smiling face still lit within,
I pray myself be filled Your rays
Oh Lord, I praise October days.

Premium Member Thanksgiving Dinner Gone Awry

It was my first Thanksgiving dinner as his wife
so I wanted the meal to be perfect in every way
But...trembling in fear, I cut my finger with a knife
It was the beginning of a day in piteous disarray

I didn't know a turkey would take so long to thaw
and I couldn't defrost the fat bird in the microwave
Agitated, I was afraid I'd have to serve it half raw
so, I parboiled it a while. My predicament was grave

The cranberries were cooking and started to pop
Then I noticed my sore finger was bleeding once more
Blood fell into the sauce pan; more than just a drop
Gotta serve it anyway. No time to go back to the store

My mother-in-law, Mary Ann, had a smirk on her face
She looks like a wild rabbit, both have wrinkled noses
I bedecked the table in my cloth of embroidered lace
finger bleeding again from thorns, darn those roses!

It's a Murphy's Law day for me cuz I've developed a tic
Face is twitching, but the turkey's roasting in the oven
People bustling in my kitchen. It's a comedy of slapstick
Cousin Benny wants a taste of my cornbread stuffin'

STUFFIN'? NO NO! I hadn't given the dish a thought
Could I make it from potatoes? I've got piles of those
I needed a drink; my frazzled nerves were distraught
Then sozzled Uncle Frank started taking off his clothes

We filled our plates as hubby, Jake, carved the bird
I gasped when I saw a bag of something on the platter
Mary Ann shrieked in laughter and shouted, "My word!!"
I had no clue it was in there. I became the Mad Hatter.

To the kitchen I retreated to ready the apple crumble
A laxative added to Mary Ann's  to give her the poops
After dinner she dashed and crashed in a nasty tumble
I smiled with satisfaction and simply exclaimed, "OOPS."
© Lin Lane  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member Breathing Dreams

I sketch musky infernos with kohl ink
when dead wings of flurry moon lace my
copper blue lashes and ripples
of faith crash furthest seashores,
Draping stelliform-soul
in strokes of starlight
which drizzle as
lemon drops
upon
pink
sheet-
canvas,
So when red
letters twirl like
blood stained cranberries,
rose-gold amulets will
always save the salted flesh
of sun and wildflowers shall shine
as magenta peony-bows in
maroon hair-strings, forever breathing dreams.


Dragon Holiday

Dragon Holiday
      (Be careful what you eat)

Dad and I went hunting on giant’s mountain
They sleep for hours at a time so we climb kinda sneaky
Crawl real slow over their big arms and limbs
And noses that snore louder than the wind
Our hunger grew as we entered dragon valley
We had our sights set on a baby one
They are easy to catch and put in a bundle bag
We charm them with a cookie and a smile
I had dragon burgers on my mind
They say the tail is tender and delicious 
We love it with cranberries on the table with side dishes
A young blue dragon galloped up to us and spoke
He said his name was Teddy
I said, my name is Dave.  This is my dad
And what a coincidence!  I have a bear at home called Teddy
Would you like to join us for Thanksgiving Dinner?
Another coincidence popped up
They too have a holiday the same as us
And call it, The Celebration of Breathing Fire
His mom and dad said yes to dinner
But we couldn't put him in a bundle bag
As dragons don’t like to suffocate
We were so happy to find our talking friend called Teddy
That we could no longer think of serving him as food
Next to the turkey or even as a side dish
Because he was so polite and oh so civil
We simply had him as our guest for dinner
The moral to my story is
Eat your dinner but don’t eat your friends
The end

Created on 10/18/14 for- Fable to the Rescue – Poetry Contest

Premium Member A Golden Kiss

I Form - Imagism 9-18-24 6-20 lines
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A Golden Kiss

Summer bows out and leaves a golden kiss
 Maize dozes in mellow aster afternoons
 Orange glows on future jack-o-lanterns
 Multicolor bumpy gourds ride snaking vines
 Yellow corn silks dance like razzle dazzles
 Apples drink in the fading crimson sun
 Sunflowers sigh -autumn storms breach the sky
 Geese with twilight on their wings see new stars
 Ruby gems of cranberries swim in bogs
 Purple grapes soak in the warmth for harvest
 Twirling leaves leave frosty lace skeletons
 Fuzzy bees bid adieu to yellow days
 Tawny acorns shiver in the cold nights
Fall wears an amber blush of jubilee.

Premium Member Formerly Dear

Formerly, dear,
my books like velvet-dressed
put aside, perfectly straight.

Last light flickers
dusk bids, “God bless,”

as I gently turn on the night,
the antique brass polished,

and symphonic-lettering hooks
harmonize in the gentler time
before the internet.

Roses flourish in crystal vase,
cranberries and ivy vines contemplate
the corpulent beauty of day’s end.

A table round in burgundy gown,
intricate lace cradles intimate thought.

My chamomile tea relaxes on lyrics bound,
stacked red and brown dust jackets burning.

I write and write and write.
In the end sits

my inkwell and quill,
a magnifique glass illuminating his name,
my spectacles
and a flowery letter to my kin —

all wrapped up as I go to bed,
in the romance of Victorian daze.

10/15/2019


Premium Member Black Rose

Because I am a rose you expect me to be red
But I am black hope there’s much to be said

My petals not yellow but thick onyx braids
Inspiring the fellows who want to get laid

But I’m no mattress nor am I for sale
Comfy in my blackness no need to yell

Stigma and enigma due to my pride
Misunderstood figure refusing slight

My feet are planted in brown dirt
Inspiring romantic despite my hurts

Cut me deep and I bleed cranberries 
DNA unique magical like cocoa faeries 

Optimistic singing James Brown so loud
Who can resist I’m black and I’m proud

Premium Member Euphoria

Emerald eyes smile bright like sun
Unique peach grin bubbly so fun
Purple passionate soul singing in rain
Happy as brown toad maybe as vain
Orange fruity dance as umbrella snaps 
Rosy cheeks like cranberries that laugh
Impressive indigo views an optimistic spirit 
Amethyst hope glows from heart you hear it

Premium Member A Christmas Verse

Chipmunks roasting on an open fire, 
It takes 10 to make a meal. 
Grab one by the tail, 
Drop him into the pan... 
You can hear the little fella squeal. 

A little teriyaki kills that gamey taste. 
On a bed of brown rice, they're so good. 
Cranberries on the side, 
Open your mouth wide, 
You'll want to eat more chipmunks...and you should. 

Chipmunks are endangered, 
   but who really cares? 
When they're gone, they're gone, I guess. 
Even tho' there's not much meat, 
They're so tasty and easy to eat 
And preparation doesn't make a big mess. 

So, just before Christmas, go trap a few, 
Enough for you and all your friends. 
Think how good your friends will feel 
Eating such a good meal; 
They'll be sad when Christmas dinner ends. 


Merry Christmas, Alvin.

The Birth of Tradition

The Pilgrims were so happy to finally set foot on Plymouth Rock,
They decided that the time had come for each to take some stock.

They built themselves a Pilgrim town of houses and very little more,
Then they sent the women out to get groceries at the Pilgrim store.

Pilgrims lived in a time when it was thought that only women ever shop,
They weren’t very enlightened and men would never make that stop.

While the girls were at the store the men invited the Indians over for lunch,
So as soon as the women got home they had to go get more to munch.

The men started to toss an old pumpkin around that was long and kinda tall,
Then they played shirts against the skins in a game they named football.

While the women worked to prepare a feast, the men all went for a walk,
With buckled hats and feathered plumes their parade was all the talk.

The women wanted revenge so they picked cranberries to make an awful sauce,
Then they made the men eat it the stuff just to show them who was boss.

Then there came a heated discussion whether to use sweet potatoes or yams,
Then a second argument broke out about the use of turkey meat or hams.

It all seemed to calm back down when the Indian cornbread was finally tried,
And the Indians really liked the green beans topped with onions that were fried.

And when the day was done and the guests took home the left over feast,
The men cleaned up the dishes, since it’s what women liked to do the least.

This is how they all came together and invented the first Thanksgiving,
It gave them strength to continue on with the hard life they were living.

The Native Americans went back to their home and were grateful for so much,
“But next year,” they said, “let’s tell the English it’s our year to visit with the Dutch.”
© Tony Lane  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member Solitude In the Dell

High up on the top of the slope
Living alone, in solitude, and hope.
He was all alone in the deep wooded dell
Yellow birds tinged with black flying so well

A small brook winded its way between the trees
Butterflies flew on hedges on the breeze.
On the sunny side of the ramp 
The soil was perfectly damp,
The brambles thrived with blue raspberries,
Whilst here and there grew wild free born cranberries.
Birds loved to pick the delicious fruit in season
But flew away when other fruits gave them a reason.

High up in his lonely shack, he cultivated food
Tasty vegetables and poultry brood.
No one ever came to visit him
It suited him best, such was his whim.

Premium Member A Bunch of Silly Trivia

At the closest point, Russia and the U.S.
Are less than two miles apart
If an altercation breaks out between them
Using bikes instead of tanks would be smart

Baby robins eat 14 feet of worms a day
Eeew! That's pretty gross to me
If you're a baby robin though you'd be anxious
To slither them down with glee

Cleopatra married two of her brothers
Might have considered it if I had one
George Washington grew marijuana in his garden
A pothead before President he'd become

Q-Tips were originally called “Baby Gays”
For obvious reasons, not a good idea
Tablecloths were originally meant to be towels
To wipe your face after eating tortillas

Cranberries are sorted by bouncing them
Ripe ones can be dribbled like a basketball
Hope their floors are immaculately clean
Else yours truly would be really appalled

Ancient Egyptians slept on pillows of stone
Guess they'd never hear of a Tempur-Pedic
Must have got up in a pretty foul mood
Uttering phrases that weren't too comedic

Did you know Burt Reynolds is a Cherokee 
Well Kimosabe, that's a new one on me
A ball of glass bounces higher than a rubber ball
Who owns a ball of glass, that's silly

In our lifetime, we grow 590 miles of hair
Imagine if we never got it cut
We'd need a special valet trailing behind
To make sure in a door it don't get shut

Lightning generates temperatures 5 times hotter
Than those at the surface of the sun
One ragweed plant releases a billion grains of pollen
Allergy sufferers don't think that's fun


© Jack Ellison 2015

Giving Thanks

This was written by me with the help of the second grade Sunday School class at Maumee United Methodist Church in Maumee, Ohio.

Thank you for the sun so bright,
Thank you for the stars at night.
Thank you for the food we eat,
Especially the turkey meat.

Thank you for my family,
Thank you for my friends with me.
Thank you for cranberries sauced,
Especially when they get lost.

Thank you for my house and home,
Thank you for my brush and comb.
Thank you for when things get smashed,
Especially for potatoes mashed.

Thank you for my TV shows,
Thank you for my runny nose.
Thank you for bivalve clams,
Especially thanks for candied yams.

Thank you God for all you give,
Thank you for my life to live.
Thank you for the food to try,
Especially the apple pie.

Listen to the song I sing,
Thank you Lord for everything!
© Tony Lane  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member Portion

Portion
Sweet Apple Pie
A very large helping 
Turkey and dressing with cranberries
Ample

Blessings
Each day of the year ~ generous  
Thy spirit floods my soul
My cup overflows
Quantum 

Psalms 119: 57, Philippines 4: 11-12

Premium Member Tom Turkey

Tom turkey my dear feathered friend
Beheaded, plucked naked to the end

The stuffing is mixed and oh so moist
Flipped on your side we shout and rejoice

We shall feast on your flesh and suckle your juice
Tom turkey you are not a duck or a goose

A dark and a light meat of your choice
Some like it dry some like it moist

Potatoes and cranberries and squash and pie
Thank God for Tom turkey we must say goodbye

And now we are fed our bellys are full
Eye lids are drooping nap that I will

An hour or two till the turkey wears off
And hunger awakes me to eat more stuff

Pie and potatoes and squash and beans
Turkey tomatoes stuffing and greens. 

Oh what a feeling so full My belly may bust
Until again next year just as good I trust.

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