Best Hazelnuts Poems
Ground for ground why I never,
Needed any feedback other than
The sultry taste, the warm goodness
Saturating my cunning senses:
Within the wee hours of the morn,
Where dawn sleeps in, catering to
My desirable need for a java rush.
Poured o'er smooth creamy delights,
Instant gratification abodes, why I'm
quite smitten with this mouthful of joe.
Hints of hazelnuts caramelize dazzled,
By coconuts, wondering how the hell,
The rest of the world is simply sleeping.
Through my sudden arousal for roasted,
Award winning kaffee, aroma nestled
To perfection, calming ,comforting noir.
squirrel with fortune
store mocha brown hazelnuts -
survive biting cold
If I could be any place I have Lived
it would be back in dear Dar-es-Salaam
this is where I left my heart moons ago
a simple yet enthralling and lovely place
Everything one needs on the doorstep
exotic fruits filling the various trees
gay birds of multi colour singing so sweetly
the sparkling ocean just a hundred yards away
Instead I now live still in outstanding beauty
my house built in 1918 is sturdy and charming
it has served me and my family loyally and well
over the years I have turned it into a sheltered haven
My garden now a paradise for butterflies and birds
three ponds I have built within its serene bounds
full not of koi or carp just of sticklebacks and rudd
five species of newt now call them home and frogs galore
Very private which suits this old hermit so well
at the top of my back garden, a shady thirty year old oak
it was just a sprig of ten years when I planted it there
keeping it company a British Lime and a wonderful walnut
All of these I planted over 23 years ago some hazelnuts too
a most wondrous Bramley apple tree always so bountiful
so much more besides to delight my eyes as I potter around
taking pause I reflect on other homes and decide that here
Here in this place I have all and more that I could ever want
that my life is happy and settled and so much inspiration
surrounds me, my grown children close to hand and many friends
who I would sadly miss. This place here and now I know and love
written 09/15/2013
Contest Know Your Place
Am I Nuts?
Chestnuts don’t grow on chests
Walnuts don’t grow on walls
Peanuts don’t come from peas
Cashews come from the fruit on trees
Pecans don’t come from peacock feathers
Pistachios fall from Pinocchio’s nose
Hazelnuts relax in the hazy sun
Macadamias are MacDonald’s big Mac nuts
Almonds are singing nuts, called the Almond Brothers
Acorns come from the unicorns tusk
Nuts are nature’s ways of making sure
We all have a little fun
The biggest nut there ever was
Surely you can see
Is the Nutty Arthur Vaso
Whom wrote these verses three
Most people go bananas
over chocolate
I'm well nuts about nuts
as well
Stuff them in chocolate
ice-cream or sherbet.
Yeah munch on peanuts
brunch on hazelnuts
Ah lunch on pecan nuts
or crunch on chestnuts
For nuts could never
drive one nuts
Ironically nutters
perhaps never ate them
A nutcase perhaps never
pried open
a nut from its case
as nuts could never ever
fall from grace
Any nut brown eyes
shouldn't miss them.
Nuts are an anytime
anywhere snack
Do travel with 'em' in
your backpack
Savour the taste of
salted groundnuts or
roasted peanuts
I even see locals munch
on round kola nuts.
Western walnuts are
tasty too
and acorns ain't just for
squirrels
in forests or the zoo
Enjoy the crunchy East
African cashews
Snack on slivered Indian
almonds
or even Persian
pistachios
Ahem well rhyming this
poem
was sure quite a tough
nut to crack ;)
Rhyming was tough for
this nutty crunchy snack
Besides there's so many
of them
I can't just put em' all in
a nutshell
I can only hope and wish
you enjoy
this nutty tale I tell.
But I do hope to have
offered all the nuts and
bolts on nut variety
And now nothing else
can rhyme here
except its creator the
Almighty
And this poem be as well
for all poetry nuts
for don't all of you poets
have such poetic guts?
A word in caveat now,
yeah go on crack those
nuts
but take care not to
crack your canines
Pray protect your pearly
whites
Your very own precious
stalactites
those right inside your
facial cave mines
and lest with cavity
holes you whine.
Well! How ya doin' ? Come on in,
the door ain't got no lock,
and let me help you sit right down
before you die of shock.
Yes, home for me is this Big Leaf Maple,
bijou but it's alright,
not increased in value but
it's sure increased in height.
Carved myself a second floor and
when the sap had hardened
hung wallpaper in vintage flock
I got from 'Home and Garden'.
Mossy carpet- not ideal,
it's just the roof keeps leaking
and no point in having windows, with
the way this place keeps creaking.
I see you like my shoe collection;
Valentino, Choo, Louboutin,
'fraid I haven't bought them, they're
from cabins I've been looting.
Impractical for this terrain, the heels snap
at the back,
so outdoors I wear furry UGGS, they leave
much better tracks.
My make-up table's basic, yeah,
I'm really no trailblazer
got just a tub of Bison dung, a flea comb
and a razor.
Diet? I'm an Omnivore, I hope that you approve,
berries, shoots and Hazelnuts, and
anything that moves.
Card table leaning on the wall, I use
for Solitaire
which probably explains why you're sat on the only chair.
Don't socialize much, not at all,
it's due to all the hype
and guys with crossbows, guns and cameras
really aren't my type.
I've scanned lonely hearts classifieds
there's not one that I've missed
but if you read their profiles,well-
I'm not sure they exist.
Don't get me wrong, I've got some pals,
Ol' Nessie keeps in touch
but crossing the Atlantic's tough
she doesn't do it much.
Yeti is still thriving in the mountains of Tibet,
I saw him once on cable- no, I haven't met him yet.
We three through all controversy
and media storms we've weathered
content to dwell in hearts and minds
in legend, and forever.
So thanks for calling, loved our chat
and so I'll say goodnight,
and should somebody ask you, hey:
you haven't seen me. Right?
I never really got the chance
To thank you
For these glasses that
Have made me see
The beauty in this world that my nocturnal spirit
Has shut away
Like the wings of a bird
Shielding itself from the scorching sun
Summer fields
Cherry trees
Lovers on freshly mown grass
Fire flies
A purple phlox
Sun-kissed petals
Clear heavens
Autumn trees
Hazelnuts
Emerald woods
Wonderful shapes dancing in a burning campfire
Warmth
White pine trees
Snow and wind
Multi-hued scarves
Hot chocolate
A kitten playing with wool
My eyes could almost tear
From seeing what has been hidden
For so long
But I could swear
The splendor is sometimes too much to bear
The aroma of strawberry fields becomes
Much too strong
Almost suffocating
The morning glories wrap my arms and legs
With their stems
The bright side begins to burn my skin
I see smiles
I see a child licking an ice-cream cone
During a hot summer's day
I see the perfection in butterflies
Leaving their cocoons
I see spring predominate the universe
I see so much until everything looks
Almost the same
Special
And beautiful
In its own way
Like the wedding gown
And the pall
I see my life
Flashing before me
The charm in this world would kill me if I saw it all
And I could swear
The splendor is sometimes too much to bear.
I came to see you at the remodeled hospital
there were bright tiles, statuary Marys, and assorted saints
"full code" was on the door.
We talked about your eventual escape and some summer plans
Now ,I am informed by curt text that there is a DNR with "comfort care,"
and no further attempts at treatment.
Too much oxygen for home or nursing home, a quick move to hospice across the road.
I kind of knew when the nurse's eyes slid over you and
the live plant I brought in the optimism of the early part of the week
was jammed in a light-less corner- I set it back on your tray.
You showed me that the nurses no longer came running when you took off your mask- the machine readout was dimmed and the alarms no longer blared.
You want to be sure that I plant hazelnuts,
and build a bomb or storm shelter, you know someone with a backhoe...
"Jesus lives on the 4th plane, you know", you tossed out to engage me
"...but there are other planes..." a gasp and the mask back on.
Your sister quickly interjects that I need to find "someone" to talk to you about this, someone who is interested.
I will talk to you about Jesus, and argue for his placement in the 6th plane
to see those blue eyes twinkle over the mask.
I will plant hazelnuts, I affirm, and look into the backhoe.
I see you, and I will see you around, my friend.
For Mike M.
Bruised little feet, up the stream, struggling,
The rocky, dry river pluckily facing,
Bitter memories, the little souls bearing,
Heinous scars,their tiny body still covering.
Around utter desolation again discovering,
In true hearts solace seeking,
A cleansing mother’s embrace wishing,
Regenerating father’s words longing.
Silent, the father, for a while, at them looking,
The wished words never uttering,
Helpless, to a little shack withdrawing,
A bleeding heart ,unobserved, dressing.
Tongue-tied, the mother, her dried eyes squeezing,
The lean, weedy girls feverishly hugging,
Glances, around now and then, furtively throwing,
A hand in her motherly chest ,resolutely, plunging.
A handful of hazelnuts to each of the two offering,
A smile on their pale faces instantly triggering,
In their pockets the precious filberts keeping,
The little menials down the stream now walking.
The mesmerizing hazelnuts once a while feeling,
Past, painful memories away fading.
Auf Wiedersehn
Well here at last it's party time,in shorts and dirndl dress.
Excitedly we travelled to the fest, a night of pleasure lay ahead.
We knew from past experience, don't quaff, just savour beers.
Imbibing Munichs drinks too fast, could mar the atmosphere.
Laughter brings bonhomie, as old and new friends speak.
Let's raise our beer steins in a toast.for now the show begins.
People waving, singing loudly, while rocking to the beat.
And all around the milling crowds, now dancing in the streets.
Revelry with devilry, as young boys whistle, girls in short skirts coyly blushing.
Talking heads surround our table, animated arms translating.
Yesterday a bunch of strangers, today as friends sharing together.
Listen to the sound of lilting voices, melodies from different tongues.
Inviting us each night to join them, mixing beers and singing songs.
Kindred spirits everyone, together dancing on the benches.
Enjoying each and every moment, with an ice cold stein of beer.
Trying tasty tendeloin of pork, delicious with sweet mustard crust.
Ham wrapped-figs and hazelnuts, with drinks of cool spring bottled water.
Each time the band strikes up-Ein Prosit, all and sundry stands to toast.
Rebel rousing, crowds carousing, dancers dirndl skirts are swirling.
Entertaining energetic, party poopers paralytic.
Stomping feet and clapping hands, embarrassing each waitress serving beer.
No one even seems to care,they carry on with gay abandon.
Overacting then distracting, when outside and breathe fresh air.
Time to eat potato pancakes,refreshed by water keeping sober.
Once more, let's party, here we go, prancing to an oom-pah band.
Musicians wearing lederhosen, people stomping feet and slapping thighs.
Oktober Fest in frenzied celebration, cavorting couples holding hands.
Running wildly round each table, urging all to take the floor.
Rejuvenated, rock and rollers, overcoming mixed emotions.
Once more before auf wiedersehn, let's dance the night away, and
We will party like there's no tomorrow.
11 / 5 / 2016.
Two palm shape a bowl for wound.
My mouth is a big hole of cry
Ruminates in the dark the sorrow
My legs flint-stone-
The hammers of night sparked
The cry from my chest
The sleepers of the graveyard heard it.
This is the hell where heart melted.
I see the dark, cleaves the silence
From ear to ear, like an old warrior,
Grinding the memory, agitating sadness,
Striping a heart of its leaves
The shadow lays his head on the wall.
The ravens are cheerful.
On October the little squirrels come
to trade their love for hazelnuts.
Love warms up the lonely hearts.
Love is crematory of loneliness.
Love is the crematory of my heart.
Two palm shape a bowl for wound.
My heart's stitches itch,
Forgetfulness is the heart drug.
Tomorrow I shall be different.
I shall be good as new
Written by © Fatima Nusairat
I recall being four years old
and picking hazelnuts with mum.
Fall was chilly, but not too cold,
and we'd picked some to be sold.
Your dad's off to war; I got told,
I didn't know that he would come.
I recall being four years old,
and picking hazelnuts with mum.
I didn't know that he would come,
it felt like a punch in the gut.
Mum used to love to sing and hum,
and on occasion, she'd dance some.
She'd bake cookies, with every crumb
packed full of roasted hazelnut.
I didn't know that he would come,
it felt like a punch in the gut.
(Intertwining Triolets)
4/22/18
Godfearing grandpa died over two decades ago,
he had an adventureous spirit bolder than any explorer of long ago;
and in his many voyages: from tumultuous Argentina
to Canada and America...he immensely missed
his faithful and beautiful blue-eyed wife Maria...
and when he dreamed of that face he once caressed,
tears flowed thinking of her with a man's desire,
which too often he bore throughout his dire...
and he could have found a companion, but he resisted that urge
by opening the Bible to remind him of his refuge.
That large barn, which echoed with the peasants' voices and songs,
was the labor of their callous hands storing hazelnuts, chestnuts, grapes
and grains to be sold in the town's market square...all that was his pride and joy;
and what made those long furrows with vines so bountful?
Their source was a river flowing through those well-kept farms,
nourishing them with its fresh waters that at times proved to be
very disastrous and fatal when its banks filled to capacity
when floods occurred making him sad, but seldom he lost hope...
as he glanced far, dreaming of sailing beyond the crimson horizon.
Godfearing grandpa was never stouthearted, he firmly believed in Divine Mercy.
Godfearing grandpa sailed from the Bay of Naples
on a ship cramped with thousands of desperate immigrants,
to seek fortune outside Italy after Mussolini seized power;
and he didn't curse his native soil for making him leave,
but kept on loving it with same ardor of his youth.
" I will return to my land and my barn as empty as a shell,
dreaming of stacking it with those crops ready to be gathered...
I will smell the ripe apples, the juicy grapes, the yellow pears,
the plump oranges with their strong scent in the crates made of oak!"
He solemny shouted to the reddest sky overlooking his rosy barn.
Why did I have to grow?
Just reminiscing about my life,
Thinking back when as a child.
Out walking with my family,
Watching badgers in the wild.
Picking berries for my mother,
Hazelnuts from the trees.
The sight of the lonesome butterfly,
The sound of the bumble-bees.
Seeing lizards basking in the sun,
Sighting fox cubs down a hole.
Gathering fists of lush green grass,
Feeding a horse and foal.
Running through fields of buttercups,
Wading in the stream.
Dad would take me fishing,
"Was this just a childhood dream?"
Oh no! I know what my eyes did see,
Tracking footprints through the snow.
Making dens and having fun,
Why did I have to grow?
Hi, my friends are size twos , I’m a fourteen
I can’t fit into their shoes, not even if I squeeze in
I blow my brain out in work outs
Spend my nights far off from refrigerator lights
Stock my dessert deserted cabinets with greens and fibres
And to morning oats at break of dawn,I make a solemn oath
To replace smiley pancakes with fruit salads
And have birthday cake decorated with low fat icing , hazelnuts and disgusting bread fruits, yuck!.
Skimming my way to a size thirteen
Slimming my way into a perfect black dress
But, what the hell?
Life is like a burning candle
Before the darkness overwhelms,
I’ll sit right across that cooling box and pick for myself a midnight snack
Cheers to that!, with a bar of chocolate
Sweet sweet sweet
It’s me, the chubby girl at size fifteen.