Best Pecan Poems

The wind billows out from the seat of his britches
With determined blue eyes, skinned knuckles and knees
he climbs up the rails nailed from old cedar pieces
to the uppermost yoke of an old pecan tree

He is Captain on board, in pretend salty breezes
From his perch in...

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I found a pecan on the ground
I picked it up when no one was around
Sitting in the hall outside of class crying because her classmates were teasing and talking about her. The student didn't want to go back in the class, I stopped, talked and...

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Fine chopped walnuts and pecans
Crunchy gold pie crust
Golden caramel color
Sweety corn syrup
Sugary filling
Rich dessert
Good
!...

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I built a platform between my house and the fence to dry out my pecans.
A squirrel stole some of my pecans and showed no remorse when I caught him.

He continued stealing right before my very eyes as if he had 'a right' to do so.
In...

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Poetry Form: Hexaduad

It’s bad
It’s rad
we greet it as a friend
don’t want to see it end.

Its presence we have missed so much
all winter long without its touch
its praise unsung
kissing our tongue.

Yet our faces would pale
if we stepped on the scale
In self-abuse
we must refuse....

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Decadent Pecan Pie

Crunchy caramelized pecans topped with whipped cream.











By Nayda Ivette Negron
11-5-2015

For Food & Our Memory Connections
Sponsored by: Andrea Dietrich
Second Place...

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WALK IN THE DOOR TO A LOVELY SMELL.
THE SMELL OF PEACHES COOKING MAKES MY MOUTH WELL.
LIKE AN OVER FLOW OF CINNANOM SPRINKLING AND CRUST CRUNCHING
THAT MOUTH WATERING DELITE
PUT INTO A BOWL AND WITH A DOUBLE SCOOP OF THIS COLD ICED
BUT SOMETHING NICE, TO BRAIN FREEZE...

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How can a cookie be solid and heavy
yet be a crispy delight
Taste of heaven in each bite
melts on your tongue
vanilla and pecan
as you crunch and chew
Savor the flavor mellow and whole
magic shortbread cookie a wonder to behold
Not so sweet but so much fun to eat
Pecan...

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PECAN PIT STOP

A soft Spring breeze sweeps us off the highway,
down serpentine paths, hushed pastoral roads,

past simple wildflowers, and golden rows,
and pecan trees - the harvest of a country store

with tables of pies, chocolate, assorted nuts.
A pleasing plethora, a habitual stop.

More than halfway home, spurred...

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there stands
such
a gracious
elderly lady
positioning
herself
in the confines
of my fenced
back yard,

silent
as she speaks,
nor moving
her limbs
until the winds
comes
to rob her
of her dress,
swaying green
fabric,

but still
proud,
full of life
bearing
her children,
not 
one or two,
but countless
numbers
all held close
to her breast,
growing, 
waiting,

now,
in the late
time of fall,
each child
ready
to free
themselves,
a wave
goodbye
as she
reluctantly
watches
them 
leave home....

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butter pecan
with that salty happy taste
It melts with an icy liveliness
Just right with those crunchies
Delighting me with their extra oomph
And who could dispute that buttery base?

butter pecan
With hot fudge
or plain in a sugar cone
Nothing more delightful
ask my tongue...

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