Best Peach Poems
They would ripen all at once
under a hot sun and hang
in a sugary glut only for a day
or two before starting to spoil.
I had to be quick and when
the time came,
I hurried home
from school to clamber up
the tree and seize
the fruit. Each was a warm,
engorged globe of flesh
with just a hint of give
when a finger was pressed
into skin.
No command,
not even from God,
could have held back a bite.
Mouthfuls of sweet peach
sent every pleasure bud
on the tongue into a spasm
and spilt the overload
oozing out of the corners
of stretched lips.
Great gulps
were hurried down the throat
to make room for another bite.
No savoring restraint held
me back, this was volume.
All afternoon
my face and hands
dripped a sticky syrup,
coating my shirt.
Finally I would have my fill
and sit bloated beneath
the tree surrounded
by peachstones some still
encased in leftovers
of pinkish flesh. Sorry evidence
to convict. Afterwards,
a terrible remorse always
took hold. Next day
I thought my stomach ache
was punishment from above.
Every year of my childhood,
in the heat of late summer,
I repeated the same sin,
suffered the same consequence,
hoped for forgiveness
from a wrathful God.
peach is on the rose
since orange sun shines so bright
earth's bathed in warm light
redbirds are singing
of yellow saffron summer
near garden stunners
sapphires in the sky
vagrant clouds have gone missing
gold fields glistening
sunshine rose fragrance
colors and green everywhere
butterflies in air
lush
daybreak
spreads
rhinestone
like tincture
of flame,
to
wildly
unravel
a coral-gold
horizon...
till sun
bursts
on fields
cradling morn
with rays...
warm
as peach
glow.
Brian Strand's May 2018 Premiere Contest
Oh such a spring in sixty-three,
the orchard there for miles they'd see,
light shades of pink that tinged the clouds
on blossoms where the bees would crowd
and dance from tree to tree.
The sun splashed yellow all around,
young lovers kissed outside the town
beneath the copse of trees.
The rumble of a summer storm
disguised the din of truth forlorn
as thousands marched this summer day;
our nation's sons in blue and gray,
like bees of spring they swarmed.
But not for life and not for play,
instead a pyrrhic death ballet -
the worst that man performs.
The orchard where they struck was shattered,
both limb of man and tree were scattered;
the rubble of their hate was strewn
where once a fruit of peace was grown -
blood and life was splattered.
But in these fields a seed was sewn
and grows to bear a truth that's known,
nourishing what matters.
The tears that drip like autumn leaves
shed for the dead and those they freed
are buried by first winter's fall
and mourned by coyote's lonely call,
now joined by mother's pleas.
While there a girl with tattered shawl
sobs for her love lost in the brawl
beneath the copse of trees ...
(One of the many battles fought on day two at Gettysburg)
In a moment of magic I once gave her a juicy innocent peach
Not yet knowing that she harboured a sweet nascent dream
In which as a youngster she knew that she would marry the one
Who handed such a fleshy gift to the gypsy Queen of Fairy Land
Bestowed upon her by night’s prophesy she carried the vision of
Requited love and blissful peace brought by subconscious longing
And spiritual clarity of a Higher Power submerged in compassion
A passionate fruit with soft skin and one huge seed of togetherness
We eloped together into a new dawn
The doomsayers had a field day as they harvested bitter doubts
‘It will only last a couple of months and the peach will turn rotten’
‘You cannot feed on clairvoyant oracles and meek pagan beliefs’
‘They are deluded insane and caught up in misguided romance’
They called her a witch a seductress and labelled me irresponsible
With so much at stake painted pictures of broomsticks and failure
While we had found the jewel in a haystack without even searching
And set fire to the past as we danced naked around a fire of passion
We knew the truth of intuitive feeling
One can never be sure what lies at the end of paths never taken
Whether road blocks and diversions belittle emotions and faith
But they who ignore heavenly signs forfeit adventure and truth
Stay stuck in spent time and hail its dubious comfort at their peril
We travelled and found a small hut on the beach out of sight
Collected starfish and driftwood and caressed wounded souls
Carved wedding bands out of sea shells and called upon dolphins
To witness our marriage surfing along happily ever since then
A cormorant applauded the feast
Under a star studded canopy on the miraculous shore of belonging
We never strayed from what intuition and feelings offered for free
Meandered on the shoreline and set our sails into a magical ocean
Tasted the salt of a mindful earth and soothed our recovering minds
Never questioned the wisdom of our union shared by hungry souls
Treasure pleasure and joy weathered powerful storms and all tides
The cosmos donates all we ever need once we are willing to navigate
Waves and effervescence sparkling desire and in our case a peach
Leading the universal way
13th May 2020
Georgia peach dusk
beyond blue and cloudy skies
a bodacious kiss
won with a Southern accent
a drawl that draws one's eyes up
Never let go, the
strand of my hair
tucked behind
your stare
Exquisitely soft,
as my fingers
cross..
Even the simplest
of touches, burn
their imprints
into the skin,
So that every root
and every vein
I have felt,
Whispers your name.
Around the corner and half a block away, the flavor would grab me, tie me up to some irresistible force, then drag my nose to the source of its home. The aroma that wafted in the air and up my whiffer was sweet and warm - rich with orchards of deliciousness and cascading with the buttery peachy-ness of what was to come. It knocked all other thoughts out of my realm and led me down a path of complete submission - surrendering like the energy of cold water on a hot skillet. With each step bringing me closer, my musing would swirl with the anticipation of that first ultra-luscious, gratifying juicy bite - the one that ever so longingly and lovingly would delightfully roll around on every palate of my watering mouth and lingering tongue only to succumb to gulping down the first chunk.
From the flour and water and salt
Her timeworn hands kneaded magic
A mystical mixture of love and fruit to concoct-
A pinch of this and that, nothing formally systematic.
This masterpiece was an untold legend that "rocked"
The socks off anyone and even rival the "Titanic"!
Her ritual was simple and deep rooted
As uncomplicated as a baby's grin.
"Easy as Pie" she mooted
And laughed while she hummed all the while.
Layering the rich sheets of goodness in a pan
From pie dough to peaches to butter and sugar
There was nothing in this world so simple or better than
My Aunt Grace's Peach Cobbler!
This morning's succulent pregnancy
holds infinite possibilities of a 5 am kind--
ones that tickle the fancy
before ten thousand thoughts rush in.
Be embraced by the unspeakable
that tells all, says all, and more.
Be held in a thimble, completely full,
yet, never runs dry;
heavy, yet light to bear;
gold-embossed,
as grace's sweet tongue licks her lips.
Everything is gratitude and understanding--
at the deepest levels.
Just ask a ripe peach.
"Your task is not to seek love, but merely to seek and find all the barriers within yourself that you have built against it." Rumi
She sits near the peach orchard
Waits to take love's calloused hand
Autumn's leaves are nearly gone
Winter's cold wind on life lands
Whispers in soft twilight glow
As snow on the mountains fall
Memories like rivers pass
As future's vision does stall
The seasons have had hard blows
Mixed in blessings from above
Memories comfort you so
While hand and hand, we still love
Silver strands in moonlight shines
Love now a great fulfilled dream
Through some storms and gentle snow
Love's true strength will always gleam
In the orchard, ripe and sweet,
A peach radiates as sunrays greet.
Its fuzz is a warm and fuzzy sight.
As birds gather, greedy for a bite.
Oh, how they lusted for the juicy fruit!
Their beady eyes were fixed on the loot.
But the farmer watched with a wary eye.
Ready to shoo them away with a cry.
He knew the value of each peach.
The hours of labor they did beseech
He'd tended to the tree with care.
Nurturing each fruit with love and prayer.
So he guarded his bounty with all his might.
Defending it from a hungry fight.
And when the time was right, he plucked each peach,
Savoring the taste, beyond all reach
For in the orchard, ripe and sweet,
The peach was more than just a treat.
It was a symbol of his tough work done.
A reward for all he had begun.
She Such A Ravishing Sweet Georgia Peach
I at naked horror of truth laid bare
loved her, beauty with long raven hair,
that magnificent grace of her sweet soul
those long, curly tresses blacker than coal
yet such a goddess was beyond my reach,
she such a ravishing sweet Georgia peach!
I once found the courage to ask her out
to taker her to the fair, show her about
sadly she was that day flying abroad
twas' Fate or else a timing most flawed
kissing me soft as she walked away
saying, for thy soul I shall this day pray!
I at naked horror of truth laid bare.
Loved her, beauty with long raven hair.
R.J. Lindley, Sept 9th. 1979
Sonnet, ( She of majestic beauty, kindness and grace )
Old Note:
(Fate continues its war upon this struggling soul)
New Note:
Fate and I have fiercely battled for well over 50 years
All through those years, I've suffered heartaches and tears
Yet a blessed and deserved recompense finally at last came
Now aged and a bit wiser, this declawed lion 'tis truly tame.
Paint me with your purple passion
Give me a red reasons to ration
My soul food hot and old fashioned
Melting like butter won’t be lasting
In my heart love isn’t lacking
Let lips spark body thrashing
True love is art no one acting
Sending to stars like ship casting
Despite dark emotions blasting
Somber days replaced so happy
Peach pray to be lavender laughing
Seen and esteemed Nubian nappy
Turquoise times accepted gladly
Mahogany mind fermented madly
Brain farts produce art so sappy
Your love I trust not fasting
I’m at the age where
I’ve grown really long hair
And I don’t denim care
That the trend is to cut it
No longer wearing high heels
Just for a flex or a thrill
More about how my feet feel
And they don’t love it
I don’t have many pink plans
Flying by seat of peach pants
Keeping my praying hands
I am blessed with contentment
Becoming a red recluse
Enjoying sandy solitude
Embracing my various moods
Without any raspberry resentment
I wonder of me what they say
Am I now an old onyx maid
Because there’s no wedding day
It tickles me pink to think
That my out of wedlock birth
Gave my life priceless worth
Despite sermon of online church
I entertain purple pondering
I’m having soup for food today
because I am so poor
I mean that in a financial way
I’m rich in blessings of lord
I can sit and doodle a bit
With muses on my brain
But so engaged in my writing page
Soup gets cold all in vain
Seems I’m wired to be inspired
By amethyst art of variety
Music poems stories songs fire
Of purple piety
Spirit is loud it starts to shout
You were born to adorn and create
Awareness and, a special blend
Of praising God in your purple way
Fruit of the spirit feeds us here
In the womb of Poetry Soup
I can glide down rainbow slide
Of your mind in words of truth
As I grow within my chocolate soul
I feel the ancestors smile
Stories of old make me emerald glow
I live to make them proud
So pardon me if I peach preach
My heart belongs to Jehovah
When I eat I pray in pink peace
That he blesses food over and over.
Thank you Lord for my daily bread
Even when it is just soup
By his hand I am fuchsia fed
And led by his mocha muse.