Cherries are divine like starlight
Heavenly scent satisfies me
Every whiff is a good memory
Roses envy this elegant scent
Rivers of almonds with cherries
Youth surrounds its beauty
Almost only almond
Layers of cherries inside
Mystical scent slides upon my skin
Only name brand lotion is best
Near luxury but not quite luxury
Delicate yet strong together
royal maroon moon
topped with mountain marshmallow ~
cherries jubilee
(August Full Moon –Anishinaabe)
Ever-optimistic
for fun and games
one may dream
of peaches and cream
and tho' the primrose path
may razz our berries
life ain't always a bed of roses
or just a bowl of cherries
for the latter comes with stones
as has the former prickles
we must pick and choose
which way our fancy tickles
We were on a side quest. I wanted some cool, fresh
cherries to savor as we strolled hot Saint Tropez.
So we were in a grocery store, in the township,
I was pushing a shopping cart along the frozen food aisle
when suddenly my feet flew out from under me and I
took a hard, embarrassing, backward spill.
Peter was shocked - “What?!” He exclaimed.
One second I was up and the next I was on my back.
It was like a lightning strike or a film edit, I was like WTF?
I was in flip-flops and there was a puddle of water.
I was fine, if scuffed up - thank god I wasn’t in a dress.
I got right up, I mean I’m not a 90-year-old lady.
And after a second we walked on, only to be swarmed,
a moment later, by the store manager and his minions
- “Are you ok?” He asked, scrubbing his hands.
“Yes, I’m fine - no, I don’t want to fill out a report”
My left big-toe was swollen and bleeding - so no running
along the beach this morning - now THAT seemed weird.
I guess it was more of a back-side quest.
.
.
A song for this:
Helter Skelter by the Beatles
Trouble Me by 10,000 Maniacs
If life is a cabaret old chum
it's certainly
a comedy
(seen in the long-shot)
and then some
or possibly
a tragedy
(viewed in close-up)
definitely
not a whole bunch of cherries in a bowl
altho' the thought is very droll
there to be tasted never wasted
as movement is a sure sign of life
sitting on the fence makes no sense
hit the streets running
floating locomoting keep on motivating
think on your feet crafty and cunning
a moving target is hard to hit
tho' it will seem
it may be but a dream
and you can take it or not give a whit
in time you'll find what comes after
meanwhile life is what you make it
Sun showers come and go
like a shadow over ragged shoal
sunflowers stick around a bit
bowing to autumn's cherry lips.
The white hearse of winter arrives.
With a chilly gaze from ice-blue eyes.
Scattered wide, the flakes of being
wings upon a frosty breeze.
Soul escapes from the cage of flesh.
Sun shower harbors no regret.
While eating some cherries,
I have to admit
That the fruit is delicious,
But lickety-split
The bowl will be empty
Except for the pits
And the stems that released them
For our benefits.
The cherries are bursting
With beauty and taste,
Though the pits and the stems
Will get tossed out as waste.
When life is described as
This fruit in a bowl,
It’s obvious that
All the cherries are whole
And likewise, when everything
Seems on the fritz,
It’s apt to believe that
Your life is the pits.
Chocolate cream-covered cherries
Sweetens my sweet tooth sweetly
I moisten moistened morsels
But, somewhat indiscreetly
Naughty niblets now nestle
I nibble nice and neatly
Chocolate creams and cherry dreams
My sweet tooth spiced completely
Cherries stain her fingers bright,
Deep and dark as midnight wine.
She pops them slow between her lips,
Her smile lazy, soft, divine.
The window's cracked to summer air,
The city sighing, fast asleep.
She smokes and laughs, her lashes low,
Her secrets folded warm and deep.
The cigarette burns slow and thin,
Forgotten in her careless hand;
I lean to kiss the cherry taste
And feel her breathing where I stand.
Her teeth are gentle on my skin,
Her lips a quiet, glowing spark;
She bites, she soothes, she bites again—
The night is soft, the hour dark.
The clock has stilled, the world is far,
Just cherry pits and curling smoke.
The moon is pale against the glass,
And every kiss a promise spoke.
We stay until the sky turns gray,
Our shoulders bare, our feet entwined,
And every cherry, every kiss,
Is sweet and slow and wholly mine.
cherry haiku
sweet fleshy cherries
enjoyed fresh and in desserts~
crown of birthday cakes.
cherries
cherry cluster gems
crimson hearts of sweet nectar ~
summertime candy
cherries are for me
fresh picked or in a warm pie ~
red heaven awaits
snaps cowgirl Indian boyfriend
The sound of buffalo meat on her teeth,
Taste the smell of sleep,
Cannabis wafting,
Chew the diamond, steal the slipper,
Call the captain and skinny dipper.
The palm fronds climb.
Squaw walks whiskey hills
Eyes cracked wide shut
Gripped by the hunger of a world,
chasing visions
The moon bleeds through the window
The stars hum a song of youth.
In Michigan, we have cherries.
Flavoring our whole state.
Tart juice that drips into everything.
So we add sugar.
Cherry trees nod as we drive by.
To the cherry festival.
I bring a tote bag to catch the cherry candy.
I try to pretend they are healthy.
Sure, they may have been made in a factory…
But the label says “Made in Michigan.”
Which takes my guilt away.
cherries under shade
seeds thirsty from heated noon ---
April rainshowers
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