Salty teeth gushing into a cantaloupe
pirouetting around banana heliotropes ~
Outshining in a sadness so tightly concealed
leaving no sunbursty-sickness to be revealed ~
Beachy days filled with pivoting mangroves
kissing me into a tropical lust of serenity ~
Wrinkling my verses in its sandy paradise,
praising my pearled pen in an oceanic sacrifice ~
A mango muse dancing in an aquamarine lush,
piñacoladas pampered lovingly with blush!
Parakeets squeak me wanderlust stares,
sunburn roasting my cheeks into a fiery flair
Does it bother me? not at all, not a care
I am here, in the now, gyrating above...
into a homesick sweetness of summerness love ~
So many cloudy days
Moments where the sun beat down hot
Typhoons, hurricanes, tornadoes
Reminding us of what we ain't got
Sitting on a wooden bench
With a gentle breeze writing out hope
Feet in the creek without a care
Nibbling on the sweetest cantaloupe
The phone rings with unexpected news
Shattering the heart into a thousand pieces
Grieving all the losses of blunted connection
Trying to bargain with god through many fleeces
An act of kindness when depression rules
Takes the soul to the end of denying self
Listening ears open and expand
To take identity off the safe little shelf
Finally, LOVE has come and enveloped
The wondering mind into eternal flow
The refreshing water of connection
Has yielded to wherever spirit wants to go
...pulling up roots, and blowing kisses
Written by Trudy Schrader on 07-29-2026
of understanding you
until I can correctly
identify colors
Green is to me
my mother's eyes
in the morning
when she laughs
at a rich joke
while we nibble
cantaloupe
and make fun
of our husbands’
idiosyncrasies
Yellow is in the nature walks
I take with students before lunch
and optimism is in the heart
of every red cardinal
that twitters down
at our scrambling
scrounging
I see you
clearly
to the fiber
of every insecurity,
unshaven hair,
awkward fumbling
and uncertainty
from morning coffee
to evening regrets
over wine and verbosity
you look introspective
when you talk after nine
at night, before the lonelier
barred owl hoots
and we sleep on separate spheres
of the same queen bed
You share leftover memories
of the weeping willow
that fell
and almost uprooted you
The pictures
remember you
from misordered time
of Christmas when reality
held its breath
and we had a day
of suspended reality
Yorkshire pudding and roast beef
We were the ones that broke the rules
of love, and rhythm
Tahira died before
her Swan's song was sung
or maybe I wasn't listening
Mozart, you were a lesser man
than my sister was to me
Need more blankets on my bed
Orange sun not warm but it’s bright
Very cheerful is a bird, guess he’s fed
Eating his wormy meal under blue sky
Made myself a fruity breakfast at seven
Breakfast was a ripe juicy cantaloupe
Early isn’t my time, yet I’m in heaven
Reading what you passionate poets wrote
This letter concealed with a Violet Grape Purple envelope
And paper the color of Orange Tangerine Cantaloupe
I wrote to my girl I felt Sapphire Teal Blue
Along with the note I sent a Scarlet Red Rose too
enclosed in the letter was a ring made from Amber Yellow Gold
And an Emerald Jade Green charm with "I LOVE YOU" in bold
When tint of duskfall weaves through a cloud
I spill lacquered paint on bays, ashore
my gold-red shades draping sand. Endowed
with citrine flame of sky , I soar:
Call me ambrosia too. Just outside,
nectar drips from marmalade nights
honey and cantaloupe bless my glide--
O I'm there...when slice of dawn alights !
Calendar commences, conviviality,
kids kvetch knishes cold,
cantaloupe crappy,
kids constantly crunching cookies,
cake, candy.
Could kayaking, canoeing, camping
in Canada cure cantankerous
children's contention?
Can caddying at the country club
conquer kid's complaining?
chaos could conduce calamity,
kindred claiming complete cuckoo-ness,
summer sanity-stealing s'mores scavengers!
Fruits are good for snacking,
Like an orange or a plum
Or a peach or nectarine
Or pear or apple, even some
Within the melon family,
Where even just a slice
Of a cantaloupe or honeydew
Or crenshaw would suffice.
Most people are content with one
When looking for a munch
Except, of course, for grapes because
With them, you’d want a bunch.
I wonder why, when Mother Nature’s
Plan for fruits was hatched,
She came up with the strange idea
That grapes should be attached.
There must have been a reason
Why on stems they’ve gotten stuck,
But it’s kind of fun to eat them
‘Til you find you’re out of pluck.
Whisper is jealous of Josh's black leather boots and Katie's fur lined boots, so they have a threesome to make up for it. They frolic in the moonlight, playing the oboe, xylophone, and vacuum, drooling and spanking each other. Then, the platypus, jackal, and whale join in, hammering out a rhythm on the pajamas, racing the tortoise, and jumping the rabbit's tail. Suddenly, the clocks, magazines, and movies come alive, streaming dirty gray hounds, tungsten spigots, mothers' spleens, kidneys, and tonsils, and cannabis shouting at the moon. The saxophones vomit sand and the pianos strike Jacks, while clouds batter receipts and panty liners. Finally, the cantaloupe refrigerator seals the deal, and the night is filled with laughter.
Pickles in tea
black beans with cheese
Surely no way to
a man's appetite please
Carrots in lard
cornbread that’s hard
Cantaloupe feathered
and tarred…
His fiancé looked nice
but she couldn’t boil rice
So he settled for a slice
of toast ~ freshly charred
Constipated onions
Immaculate cantaloupe
Collard, mustard, turnip greens
crabgrass eating artichoke distant
Are the carrots potatoes fried display?
But the watermelon
Praise on the tomato mustard says
We be going to have ketchup today
6/17/ 24
written words by James Edward Lee Sr.
The smell of cantaloupe is enticing
Yearning to feel it’s smoothly texture
It beckons me to it with an unworldly call
The slippery flesh is on my earthly skin
As I hold the fruit it embraces me,
How sweet! How kind it is!
I sympathize and crave it!
A plant that is living and purring
Communicates to us with undecipherable
Decibels that can be heard from beyond our senses
But, I’m hungry; so hungry!
Tearing apart it’s flesh
It’s now a part of me; broken down to a
Molecular level.
My pearl heart rests
in the chiffon sands
of forsaken memories,
like an open oyster shell,
engrossed in saffron-streaked
serenades,
while embracing. shifting shades
of an
apricot-feathered sunset,
the sky sings for
your magnolia magic~
unraveling clapping
rays of glittery pompoms
celebrating the
rising of champagne crescent.
There, I find secret
keys to the golden
g a t e s of your soul.
I gaze beyond the
sparkling crest of
the honeyed horizon,
as cantaloupe lines
of waning gloaming~
slowly tip-toe
towards the
whistling waves,
ferrying Poseidon’s
souvenirs draped
in sapphire strings,
like scattered
sea-shells singing
songs to rippling
runes of cosmic love.
And this poem shall remain
within porcelain pages;
mermaid memoir of
a mystical romance untold.
Some gifts were great for yesteryear
But with a face lift they can reappear
Like that good old soap on a rope
Can now be: may I have the envelope
When cleaning below the ship’s deck
Now you don’t need to break your neck
Buy a mini submarine with soap
On a periscope
If your pet lion has bad breath
Don’t worry yourself to death
Now you can treat it with soap
On an antelope
A word of warning for new age fans
Even though it is in the soap plans
I would never take a chance with soap
On a cantaloupe
But if your foolish brother is
Never minding his own darn biz
Wipe him out of your way with soap
On a dope
If your friend’s health is on the rocks
Show him or her how to detox
Starting with the improved soap
On a stethoscope
A great gift to open a kid’s eyes
To be able to enjoy the skies
Is to buy them that neat’o soap
On a telescope
Lastly, for those who are pessimistic
And are in need of some optimistic
Grant their X-mas wish with soap
On a hope.
Yesterday has passed,
today I shall rise and dream,
let mourning stars fade.
Some flowers may wilt,
Yet fragrance remains when skies-
bleed cantaloupe hope.
Ruby crowned kinglets,
croon and rest on bleak brown shrubs,
as rays of autumn-
swiftly glide amongst,
peridot promises wrapped
in crisp memories.
But when ink comes as
wind-swept secrets tumbling in,
russet streaks of sun,
I'll stretch honey dipped
fingers, to sketch your saffron,
name across twilight.
Maybe dance of leaves,
and flurry hues would define,
unseen tomorrows.
As weightless amber,
carries warm crimson kisses,
Sealed in spiced silence.
So when rosy moon
returns amidst silver clouds
sing sweet songs of love.
You and I, we are-
poetry woven in red,
beneath gloaming gold,
painting crystal clear wishes.
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