Best Gourds Poems
I was loving the sun,
Not consciously doing anything
My gourds hanging sweetly,
Too big to move much
Dancing with internal mirth
Because I was being picked today
It is always a relief to a calabash
When the pickers arrive
I heard laughter and stood a bit taller
Glad I could see farther than bushes
But no one showed, so I knew
It was not the pickers.
I sat back and enjoyed the
love of the sun a little longer,
excited the gourds would be going to new homes
today, knowing they would love
being bird houses and decorations
Feeling sad for the ones who
would be turned into tobacco pipes
They are all my children,
I want them all to
breathe and enjoy
the sun...
.
Gourds turning from green
To Desert Tan hang from vines_
Next year Martin House
One of autumn’s great rewards
Is seeing farm stands, stacked with gourds.
Orange pumpkins take their places,
Waiting for their scary faces.
Other gourds have shapes bizarre –
Who knows what the heck they are?
Speckled, stripy, curved and green,
Strangest veggies I have seen.
But my favorites at the stall
Are the tiniest of all.
They’re like pumpkins, only mini –
Seeing them, I get all grinny.
Imagine if all elves and gnomes
Have mini pumpkins at their homes.
If so, I’ll bet their mini-swords
Make jack-o-lanterns of those gourds!
I
mystery in seeds:
real to me, small, flat gourd seed
now, shoots at window smile
II
Flat white seed planted
a meter from window
three weeks: hi from window
They look like little pumpkins,
Cute and orange, with a stem,
Or else like tiny long-necked squash;
The stores sell lots of them.
They serve as decorations
As they brighten homes for fall,
A counterpart to jack-o-lanterns,
Faceless, though, and small.
However, I do wonder
Why they’ve gotten so maligned
For when someone’s out of someone’s gourd,
It means he’s lost his mind!
The Trolls of Ayeres
Glare the Stare that speaks in volume
described by some as a lyrical grunt
In concerns for perfection
it s steeped in possibility
familiar each part
an ensemble of words
begins to unfold each in description
of a storied beginning. He Trolls
the fields gathering the gourds
he dries and store them to
speak this as chores
he dolls up his cave to
impress his Lady
A songstress who sings with
Song Thrushes
then to the envy of the Common Nightingale's
she sing in refrain in reference to the
beautiful gourds she begins to sing
to catch the ear of the listeners
her octaves began to change
As The Nightingales began to spread there wings
The Husband Troll signal's his gal
A thrust in movement brings this passage
to an end
They sing beneath Ayres to entertain the
Birds in the sky
The chirps of many birds a sequential erosion
the stones are echoing walls
where the Trolls chore and sing
GRANTED, GARGANTUAN GOURDS
GRACE GARGANTUAN EGOS.
THEY GRACIOUSLY AND GRADUALLY
GRAVITATE, (THROUGH GRAVITY),
TO GIANT GROUND BASED GARAGES.
GUARANTEEING THAT GREAT BIG,
GIANT, GARGANTUAN GOURDS,
GETS GOOD GROUND ROOTS
GROWTH POTENTIAL...GRADUALLY!
The gourd guardian loved his post.
Out of all the jobs, it suited him the most.
He did not like to brag or even a tiny bit boast,
But he was the best guardian at this post.