Fruitage Poems | Examples

Tortured Memories

Memories are fickle things
They seem to love to torture
When you desperately just want to forget
Seems memory's fruitage is an orchard

They can seemingly come from anywhere
But they don't need to be regretted
They should still be remembered fondly
Not bemoaned, erased, or fretted

Because if memories were cheating
No one could be loyal
Just because something comes to mind
Doesn't mean your love is foiled

You can smell a smell or see a sight
Even hear a familiar tune
But none of thats a problem
Because he will still love you

So don't hate yourself for your memories
Your love's no passing fad
You can still be loyal to each other
And be grateful for what we had

raspberry moon

sunset red fruitage
	raspberries ripe on the vine ~
		perfect pink parfait

(July Full Moon – Native American)

Harvest

Harvest

Scaturient

Hanging, fluffing, waiting

Provide, provision, work, fatigue

Fruitage   

I know you will not be able to see the picture that I am writing about which is not to my advantage. 

scaturient -adjective-overflowing, abundant

More

More
As the bindings of morality
Become looser every day
Every adult, every youngster
Is seduced to have his way
Inhibitions once had merits
The lack of them was to one’s cost
But the change of times now teaches
That those virtues are best tossed
As we watch how mores and cultures
Overwhelmingly decline
One should actually start to wonder
’How has this affected mine?’
For a human without culture
Without values, without belief
Keeps on living with abandon
All he’ll reap is woe and grief
Though the harvest of this fruitage
Shows there is a lot to mend
Still a virtuous opinion
Will most certainly offend
For all evil now gives pleasure
Who would dare to make it stop?
We’re like greedy children sucking
On a poisoned lollipop
And the damage is so obvious
But we cowardly ignore
For we revel in excesses
And we keep on craving more.

Wendy Nipas

Joyful Vanguard

Joy wears a smile with hidden glow,
Opt faith and hope to live your quest;
Yield cheer that styles a profound flow,
Frame happy scope where act works best;
Urge peace to sum your story here,
Live your best face through trials that burn.
Voice wise outcome beyond strange fear,
Art in pure grace as harsh tides turn;
Note how love brings a certain cause,
Glimpse waves of light that fashion grounds;
Use each new fling through healthy pause,
Apt colours sight where truth is found;
Reap in due time fruitage most grand,
Dance windy chimes right here my friend.




Leon Enriquez
02 April 2018
Singapore

Seven Slivers of Spring

hedgerows greenup-
nature's pastiche
awakens from winter sleep.

Quiet greets the Spring morn,
a shaft of light diffuses night 

snow melts slowly-
a trickle,unseen,runs free 
begins a new spring
#

A babbling burn ,riverine unseen,
a stream of freshwater  silts sloping banks
the current slows to- 
eddys, where fat chubb doze.

Quiet greets the Spring morn,
a shaft of light
diffuses night into -
a dawn chorus.

Amid the eerie dayspring light
yesterday's memories glow so bright
#

blossoms a welcome
springtime emblem-
the foretast of fruitage
to come

Bits of Delicacies

night market! a juggle of flavors
succulent and citrusy with
pears  pumpkins  peaches inflamed
and clothed in sweetened rinds like
watercolors of  tangerine and mauve...
stems dipped in waters of tender sun
         flesh touching flesh,
         nectar glazing bronze on squirts turned into nectar, 
         into  savory brine... then to wiggle 
         upon a  harvest filling
quilted baskets sucked and chewed: beaded 
globules, bulbs rippling in own honeyed pools,
tangy fruitage which bears the ripest of ovules 
lacing the tongue ambrosial. tangy...
         and ladies like rush home with flushed romance
         in their heads
with  piles of delicacies bending  swirling 
on  their ample chests
to taste the liquid   radiant syrup 
of eve's craving for a night lovers' feast.


For Debbie Guzzi's Just A Little Bit Of Sugar
2/22/2017

Montage of a Tree

Tonight, a montage is brushed with a splendor
of glazed branches : an arrangement of russet
teal and orange; dappled wisps enticing
my spirit for a pilgrim beyond my own angst.

In pure delight, tendrils of leaves are aflame
through the glory of a varnished summer.
Feathery rims unfurl in dotted patterns
adorning a cherry tree with iridescent flush
as its arms seem to layout
the stencils of  hours' burdens.

Yet, miniature stars flicker on its garment
this cherry timber blowing heavenward,
perhaps content in the grace
of its caressed shade and bloomed fruitage;
enough to guard men from rainfall and sun.

I nestle on the ground, searching for its beauty,
and feeling its silence: a renewed breath heaves 
from petals born in earth's clay ,sewn by nature's hands;
ever- entrancing and evergreen.

...................
Brian Strand's Whitsun Premiere Contest

The Fruitage of the Spirit

Love
is what you feel,
when God to you is real.

Joy
is, a feeling inside,
you,
cannot hide,
that rarely subsides.

Peace,
Will come over you,
When you have,
an overview,
Of God's purpose for you.

Patience
is needed by everyone,
to remove the sting,
of injustice,
and for God's will to be done.

Kindness
Is what you do,
when you perceive,
someone has a problem,
or a special need.

Goodness
is a quality that inspires the rest,
to be self-sacrificing,
and do their very best.

Faith
Is required to please God well,
when you have it,
he can tell.

Mildness
Conquers rage,
calms it down,
at every stage.
Helps you to,
turn the page.

Self Control
Is needed to keep us,
from harm,
It also helps us,
to keep,
sounding the alarm.

John Derek Hamilton October 25,2015

Autumn

By all these lovely tokens autumn days are here, 
with summer's best of weather, 
and autumn's best of joyfulness,
every soul is dedicated to it, 
and if I were a bird I would fly about the earth, 
seeking the consecutive autumns.

There is harmony in the air, 
and the days become vivacious and brittle under fruitage heavens, 
a luster is in the atmosphere, 
which through the summer is not perceived or understood, 
as if it could not be, as if it had not been!
the landscape is decorated in glowing shades of scarlet, saffron and russet.

Autumn's fire burns slowly along the forests, 
and day by day the lifeless leaves fall and melt down,
I trust in nature for the steady laws of prettiness and usefulness, 
Leaves grow old gracefully; bring such joy in their last lingering days,
How vibrant and bright is their final flurry of life.

The magic of autumn has seized the rural areas,
the air is intense and vibrant and full of possibilities,
everything looks like a supernatural oil portraits,
Autumn leaves with an emotionless caress,
leaving us to grieve the frosty grip, 
of winter in extended sunset.

Writer

Seek a sure voice to tell your tale,
Obsess fond heart with mind aware.
Work on firm choice as truth avails,
Raise vibrant art with pleasant fare;
Impress fond lines as echoes sound,
Touch a new high with charms that free;
Etch and define such vivid grounds,
Reach for a sigh that comes to be.
Word colours tact with sparkling tints,
Ripe fruitage brings such fragrant treats;
Inspire the fact that follows hints,
Taste simple flings in thoughts that meet;
Explore and gauge where feelings surge,
Seek to then stage joy on the verge.




Leon Enriquez
12 June 2015
Singapore

Murmurings

Two young lovers
Seeing eye to eye;
Ecstatic romance


Promises made
Language of love;
Reality can be harsh


July sun-bathing
Local fruitage surprise:
Durians, mangosteens, rambutans!


Two yellow butterflies
Zigzagging flight path;
Bourgainvillea landing


Sweet nectar sip
Momentary focus;
Long haul to tall casuarina


Old banyan tree witness
School boy quarrels echo;
All gone away


Time passes quickly
So many ambitious kids;
Now preside over meetings


Old school mates 
Chance encounter;
Discuss happenings


Witty old father checks
Vivacious mother tags;
Facebook excursions


Fancy smart phones
Tablets for dummies;
Slow learning curve


Purple flowers
Creeping vines on fence;
Morning salutation


Morning Glory flowers
Here at dawn;
Gone by dusk



Leon Enriquez
23 July 2014
Singapore

I'M Sick of Feeling Sick of You

Why you in my life taking me down every time I get up from my low? Just as  
fire meet gasoline my tummy burn with passion. I'm so sick of feeling sick of 
you. Why won't you stay away?

You come running with the good then make me feel hopeless when you gone. 
Just as a machete in my gut twisting its way through my back I scream for 
mercy as death flee from me. 

You destroyed the fruitage of my womb. Now they are lost scattered in the winds 
of life not knowing which way to go. 

Life is never fair. Justice never prevail in this dark scary world where ghost and 
gobbling lurk every where around corners ready to snatched you into nightmares 
keeping you awake most nights

Fatal Flower

Fear is a fatal flower that blooms in every breast,
twining its vicious tendrils to choke hope's infant rest.
Fear bears a bitter fruitage, a wine of black despair;
hope, drunken, weaves the linen to shroud her dying heir.
Fear is the devil's vintage of desecrated years;
but Jesus treads the winepress and His love casts our Fear.

Faye Lanham Gibson
Copyright, 1987

Cinqku 14

blossom
a welcome
springtime emblem-
the foretast of fruitage
to come

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