Quieting the mind, slowing time.
With thin slices of lemon and lime in a fat tortoise-shell glass of ice water
Put it in the sunlight for two or three
Swirl it for a bit with your favorite pinky
Watch the pulp turn into gems
Sipping a masterpiece into sweetened memory
Lemon Lime soda a drink divine
pure and clear lemon and lime
Bubbly sweet with liquid clean
for a refreshing soda taste supreme
Needs no coloring just a little ice
parched on a hot day it taste nice
Quenches your thirst can drink two
sharing one for me the other for you
7 Up is great but prefer Sprite
either one lemon lime delight
Other brands good but the big two
7 Up and Sprite soda trusted true
So for celebrations of any kind
be sure to enjoy a soda of lemon lime.
Popping out from under time's ruffled sun
a regally vested, chit-chatty Robin.
Cheerily navigating the lemon lime grass.
Perhaps looking for a beetle or crumb.
He daintily hip-hopped into my ring
on legs of beige twigs and lute strings.
Gently tilting a Tiffany-kissed beak.
Offering a daisy chain of silvery peeps.
I thought him just another avian busker
hustling up a mate and something to eat.
I'd little to offer and vigorously apologized.
He just glanced toward his robin egg sky.
Then offered me, in pastels, a Basho haiku.
I volleyed back with crayon-streaked senryu.
Before gliding off to sweet memory land,
he gifted an orange gem from his regal vest.
I considered this day to be impeccably blessed
by Lord Robin of the lemon-lime grass.
A True Story
Outside at the beach
at the peak of the summer
the sun is already piping at ninety degrees
waiting for the ocean breezes
to tackle the surface of my skin
like drops of rain during the month of May
I walked up to the tiki bar and ordered myself
a coconut mojito with a wedge
of a ripe green lime served to me
in a hurricane glass as clear as a crystal
with a black paper straw
to relieve my summer blues and headaches
while I slumber on a daybed infront of the shore
In Coconut Grove I did spy
A slice of the boldest key lime pie
It puckered my face
I ate every trace
With an empty plate I whispered a sigh
In the labyrinth of life one walks winding path
Full of triumph, trials, turquoise tears, lime laughs
If you believe in John Lennon’s yellow yesterday
You may embrace the rear view mirror reminiscing
And possibly miss the most beautiful moments
Like the rise of a Phoenix sun or
It’s setting like a fireball rolling down green hills
Like the marriage of mother moon
Pregnant in unknown black galaxies
To the silvery stars that call a poet’s heart
These vibrant views are nice in a photo
But in the present they are priceless
Worthy of undivided attention and respect
Lennon believed in yesterday but
“ Isn’t it nice to think that tomorrow is a new day with no mistakes in it yet?”
Lithe lime faerie was a cousin to Lucy Lemon.
They were both young girls, only six or seven.
Flying in tandem, showing the garden their scents.
The were both lovely, most said heaven-sent.
? What's the cost of having a place,
we all are in a race ??
Trying to be the best,
and stand out from the rest.
No one cares about our efforts,
in the long run the way diverts.
Stay at your own pace,
You are just running behind a imaginary race.
Trying hundred of times, is that a crime.,
or may be worse than a sour lime.?? ?
These little swiss cake
Are simply sublime.
I like them glazed.
And eat some at night.
They are my faves.
A pastry delight.
So, I weighed one eighty.
And lately passed two oh-five.
Though I'm mostly bloated.
By hydrogenous sweet lime.
If I can be honest
I must cranberry confess
I really don’t want it
No longer need your sex
I don’t mean you
Are invaluable to me
Just mean I don’t want
All that huffing and puffing
I giggle sometimes
At myself for lemon lime
Is the taste of the sexless
And it is still good to eat
Between the sheets of paper poetry
I did once enjoy so now I don’t
Change my mind want a sexless song
To sing as a fire sign soul
It’s not that I don’t love
I guess I love me more
Cranberry confessions
Sexless obsessions
Gluttonous screen helpings of
‘A long time ago in a galaxy far far away..’
Lime boombox with Madonna singing,
‘Only when I’m dancin’ can I feel this free.’
Bread and butter of a pig tail soul;
My base bricks, these memories built me;
Grew up drawn to creativity,
carved my yearbook space unequivocally;
Walked with sweet n’ sour hooligans
who chose to live life differently;
Relentless teen of the DMV,
I learned the ropes on the trains of the city;
A poet with a head full of dreams,
and some of them I have made come true;
Ever changing but my roots are strong,
adaptable but loyal I forever stay;
Illuminating that smile I wore as a kid
are all the core memories that built me.
Summon your demons, devils, and wraiths,
visit moments of hurt and loss.
Replay what might have been, wrestle with regrets,
Do “if only” scenes haunt your past?
I follow the faint ribbon of sand on Mackinac Island,
lined with sugar maple tree, aspen and lilac.
Wild lilly of the valley, its fragrant musk, from dusk to dawn,
clings to lichen and headstone,
in the old cemetery at the end of Lime Kiln Road.
I am as ghostly as the local specters.
The fine young military boy,
eyes wild and strange,
wandering across the old rifle range,
striving to collect his remit.
Payment for the murder he did not commit.
Or darling Miss Biddle, only eight years old.
They handed her Mama her green Christmas coat.
Drowned when the ice cracked, no-one saw.
Lost in a snowstorm on the island of Mackinac.
Ghosts are so practical. They wander, they howl,
always in the same place, always the same sound.
Patient in time eternal, that their fate will dissolve or resolve.
My earthly body moves through life,
restless in my quest to change the past.
Spirits moan, I am not lost.
I close my eyes and dance with my ghosts.
Lotus lips of lilac shade
planting pink fragrant kisses on my face
Kisses from auntie Jasmine in action today
Her love lives beyond the grave
Kisses from Jasmine in heaven yet here in spirit
Lime is her laughing kinfolk can you hear it?
She was a survivor of many things
Cancer abuse heart ache broken dreams
Now she’s earned her angel wings
She watches us close with teal time winding
What she was too was clairvoyant yet meek
Not at all a fuchsia fool nor of violet vanity
She told me once of a visitor in green
Who soothed her soul from beyond all dreams
Her kiss is a wish that I live life well
Take care of her plants be sure to tell
Her kids to dance to smell the smells
Make dreams true not just wish at a white well
Her kiss in the wind is delivered love
We can wrap in like a green glove
We can find still her yellow mellow ways
When the warmest wind blows across brown face.
Choose orange, green lime
Half cut, squeeze it tightly
Pulp, juice separate.
Cream freshly whipped up
Lime zest rests on tabletops
Sunlight streaming in
Sub Categories
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.