When I was just four,
Baba would walk me through the olive groves,
his land stretching endlessly,
acres of trees—each one a memory,
each one rooted deep in the soil of home.
He’d set up a ladder for me,
let me climb,
picking the dark, ripe olives
from the branches heavy with history.
“Go inside,” he’d say,
“bring a bucket of water.”
I ran, feet light on the earth,
filled the bucket from the well,
its coolness a moment of peace.
But then—
a scream, sharp and raw,
cut through the air.
I rushed outside,
and saw the flames—
huge, fierce,
devouring the olive trees,
the ones Baba had cared for,
the ones my ancestors had planted.
In the distance,
soldiers stood,
their smiles cold,
ruining everything we had known,
burning the heart of our land.
I dropped the bucket.
The water poured uselessly on the ground,
while the fire took what we had left—
our home, our history,
our future,
turned to ash.
Categories:
groves, arabic, betrayal, corruption, farm,
Form: Free verse
On April seventh there'll be an anniversary.
Not one in which we celebrate with balloons or confetti...
sweet cakes, songs or garish parades.
It will be 6 serrated months, since terrorist raped Mother Israel.
Sprayed the olive groves with her blood.
Six months since they raked a couple hundred innocents...
to cover yellow flanks-to prolong their fun.
Six months the innocents have spent underground
with-in the tunnels of cowards.
Nobody talks about them anymore.
one by one there being dropped
like sparks from a broken tailpipe
While the media bunny hops away,,,
onto the next horror.
Their names and smiling faces have melted off our back pages.
Into Dali's clocks into the final note of a broken windchime memory.
Categories:
groves, innocence, insect,
Form: Free verse
CITRUS GROVES
In citrus groves of sunlit hue,
Fictitious fact farce sounds so true,
Where oranges, plump and captured by zest,
In love affection with the farmer, feeling its best,
But witnessed a twist beyond the rolling crest.
With its vibrant peel and a radiant hue,
Held the essence of the one it grew.
From gentle curve, clean looks to robust chin,
An orange's visage, looking fresh and clean.
Its eyes, twin orbs of sunlight's rays,
Gleaming and bright like summer's blaze,
In vibrant array, encompassed in its gaze,
Squeezed with each squeeze by the squeezer,
Ready to be delivered in the captivity of freezer.
Compromised trust alternate its burst of zest,
Liquidization is the transformation it witness at best.
As the squeezer unleashed the scent tang.
Oranje enjoyed its last caress before hitting a snag
It wasn't a sweet symphony but a fragrant delight,
Juicing out the juice into this citrus sprite.
From that moment on, the farmer knew,
This orange, immense, had a purpose true,
To bring a smile and refreshing to every face,
A reminder of nature's infinite grace.²4
VICK MANUEL POETRY {VMP}
FORM: Rhymes
Copyright ©? December 9th, 2023.
Categories:
groves, 1st grade,
Form: Rhyme
I used to wander through the olive groves
in the days when I was younger
sitting outside in the shade to eat
while Granddad chatted in the street
familiar words not quite understood
I stayed all summer just because I could
swimming in the beautiful Aegean sea
I was as happy as I could be
memories of those days gone by
I look at the old photo's -with a sigh.
Categories:
groves, beautiful, grandfather, memory, sea,
Form: Free verse
POEM "THE PASSIONATE PRIME" written by martin gedge
Through the trees
and colored leaves
to branches far below
there spins a gem
from bud to stem
against the summer glow
with spurts of rain
its face in flame
the passion fruit is prime
it's peachy clean
like none you seen
and juicy all the time
so soft and sweet
this tasty treat
as seasons lie in wait
the velvet skin
from cheek to grin
across the Georgia state
so take a bite
of such delight
a splash of nectar charm
and wipe the smile
that all the while
was dripping down your arm.....
by martin gedge ©
Categories:
groves, fruit, heaven, nature, passion,
Form: Rhyme
shallow groves
of my mind
tepid waters break
over and over
hollow thought
of you tonight
a car crash
in my life
never was sober
shallow groves
all your lies
insecurities
swallowed whole
i gave up
when i ran
when you wake up
quite hungover
want to stay in bed
Categories:
groves, addiction, angst, betrayal, break
Form: Free verse
Among the mango groves
Rain falls in rallies, waterbeads
The gust of wind gather treasure-troves
Of passive smell of weeds
In the groves,play of waterbeads, breeds
The water spirals down the earth
A rumpy cudden in trapeze
A distant coming nature's re-birth
Meandering roots squeeze
A trapeze, rebirth ,trees wheeze
Rain 's stopping by,a shy goodwill
Falling of twigs , nipped buds white sauce oozing
Astringent in taste sweet souls on the mill
Waters sleep on the bark sousing
Sousing in the puddle of rain-a goodwill dousing
Manassian Quintain - Poetry Contest
Sponsor craig cornish
07 th January,2015
Categories:
groves, water,
Form: Quintain (English)
I love you wild and free
From midnight to the dawning spree
When broken glass startles the mirror
Our love grows clearer
Through fortune and nebulous climb
Tucked into each other's sides
By mystic banter and throaty relief
Holding still in our belief
That love summits grow
With each passing leaf
Categories:
groves, art, inspirational, love, love,
Form: Free verse