Long Apricot Poems
Long Apricot Poems. Below are the most popular long Apricot by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Apricot poems by poem length and keyword.
DAUGHTERS
Opposites presented by Goddess
in talons of Eagle
on wings of Dove
Equally loved
A torrent from a fierce black cloud
yang frothing waves in a storm
beating seaweed rocks
claiming it in her bosom
then furling it afar
into unknown depths
where Neptune roars
his roar on end
boasting an indigo flag
Then ...light as a feather
yin floating on a shimmering beach
rosy ringlets microscope crabs, bubbles
giggling at ant antics
in crevices of creaky floorboards
while autumn Sun sets
dew drops on clover leaves
so misty morning says Hello !
A dancing juicy apricot
kisses at library doors
spongy beneath oak exterior
where beetles dug a hundred paths
staring defiance at an orange star
scornful, graceful, factual
proclaiming a Largeness of Life !
An Earth child in long waves of auburn
reaching for Mercury
A Spirit child, Earth located
One imaged from bowels of struggle
she whispered freedom in my ears
when behind prison bars
I sat counting toes
One imaged from Gabriel’s gown
or was it Merlin’s ?
she fingered watercolours
through my lenses
As Saturn said goodbye ...
Sirius screamed from wreaking hell
wrought from rages or sages unknown
Born in blood without its blue
from a womb of turmoil tremors
crystal dripping dark strife
hypocrisy contemplated
torn apart by churning guts
as young medics ogled
grimaced, searched
so premature, so incubated
it was “I will survive!”
Sun and Moon crossed one another
not knowing which way but loose
streaming rivers flowing sideways
in dusty towns, painted villages, rape
a gecko appeared on a pillowcase
Gangster peeped through a window
books came tumbling down
numbers flew away
lashes black as croaking crow
it was “I am here!”
There can be no coin to
ponder if not faces two
no tornado ripping apart
if no breezes play on
a horse farm in Karoo
No life if no death
Night clings to day
as daybreak clings to escaping night
sunset embraces twilight
negates itself, disappearing
one embalming the other while
flying
together on a silver thread
in blueberry Sky !
Outside the walls stood a handmaiden gazing
Twisting her skirt between fingers so frail
Patches of burlap were sewn on the garment
Cut from a sack of a barley oat bale
Oh how she dreamed of the opulent palace
Silver and gold and the finest of lace
Gowns made of velvet with ribbons of satin
She spun around with a smile on her face
As if a princess, her blonde hair a flowing
Blue skies above now the tint of her eyes
Hearing a song on the early spring breezes
Never once noticed the coming surprise
Then saw him on horseback and blushed like a petal
Found on the reddest of roses that grew
Knee bent to curtsey, feeling embarrassed
Knowing this gesture is what she should do
“Good day my fair maiden, your dance was enchanting”
He said as he smiled, his kindness was felt
“So sorry my prince, I did not see you coming”
Again on the soil before him she knelt
“Rise up,” he said as he slid from the saddle
“There is no need for such formality,
for one of such beauty tis I who should bow”
Saying this he touched the earth with one knee
Once more she blushed like an apricot sunrise
Standing he reached out and taking her hand
Wondered, “What brings you by here on this morning,
adding such loveliness to our fine land?”
“Your majesty, I’m but a servant daydreaming,
Seeing myself quite the belle of the ball
Very much childish I know you are thinking
For I belong far outside this great wall”
He pondered a moment, his chin now he fondled
Suddenly grinned with the happiest glance
“Well now fair maiden, if thou would permit me
Please be my guest at this evening’s spring dance?”
“Oh handsome prince I could not even think it
Look at my dress, I have nothing to wear
Merely these rags and an old pair of high tops
Never to mention the state of my hair”
“Never you mind and I kind of like high tops
Maybe some jeans and a tank top in red
Pull your hair back and it will be perfect
Nothing you’ll need when we climb into bed”
“What’s that you say, you want sex after dancing
Beat it you creep, I’m abreast of your game
I’ll spread these legs not for anyone fancy
Damn it, you men, every one is the same”
As he departed, rejected and sneering
She stomped away feeling angry and mean
So here you find such an unhappy ending
The truth is she only had eyes for the queen
for my ever so intelligent, beautiful granddaughter, Juliette
Waking in the garden,
she was the lone bloomer out today-
Peeking from behind her petals,
she saw a few faint sunshine rays-
Soaking in their goodness,
but wanting company-
She sang a melancholy song,
sweet with melody-
Her delicate face smiled,
when she thought she heard a lark-
But it splashed around the birdbath,
then flew off to a near-by park-
“Sweet Juliet” was strong in nature-
all roses knew that true-
But standing alone in the garden,
was beginning to make her blue-
The garden entry was opening,
she could hear the creaking gate,
And saw the ‘ole time gardener,
give his head a shake,
“Well, pretty little lady,”
he said right into her face,
“Bet you’re kind of lonely here,
inside this rose bed place“
Spring was making its entry,
very late into the year,
And “Sweet Juliet,” was finding it,
very hard to quell her fear-
She knew she’d be tended well,
by those hired to give her care-
But usually by this time of year,
there’d be flowers everywhere-
This quaint little English garden,
did not like the winter cold,
And “Sweet Juliet” was wondering,
how much longer her stem would hold-
Then for a moment she was startled,
when upon the ground she saw-
Cornu aspersum - a garden snail,
looking at her in awe-
Her beauty could not be denied,
with cupped rosette form of old-
A popular choice for brides to be,
a “Sweet Juliet” bouquet to hold-
Of 15,000 cultivated varieties,
She’s referred to as the £3 million rose,
After high costs and 14 years of breeding,
She debuted in 2006 flower shows-
She is the royalty of many gardens-
with her peachy-apricot hued blooms-
And not to go unappreciated,
is the scent of her tea-rose perfume-
Well protected through the winter,
with burlap enclosures ‘round her rows-
She’s safe in inclement weather,
and out of reach from cold winds that blow-
It took four weeks for the chill to go,
and the clouds to float away-
“Sweet Juliet” awoke to a buzzing sound,
and knew that spring was here to stay-
She glanced at the roses around her,
and smiled because she wasn’t alone-
For nothing gave her greater joy,
Then having friends to share her home-
I was an experienced family therapist, helping families maintain functionality,
As wandering, starlit seasons maintain all nature, being rooted in practicality.
I loved preserving healthy relationships, that foundation of healthy societies;
And kept up a fruitful dialogue between the families, which relieved anxieties.
I, myself, had come from a happy home, never causing huge worries or fears,
For dear ones that I loved, never seemed to be leaving, as silvery cloud tears.
Friends dropped by like colorful fall, never failing to fetch the fondest smiles,
In the midst of a watchful, apricot noon, when rouge butterflies were in exile.
Family flew past fluffy clouds each fall, when autumn was pretty and frumpy,
Like field blossoms of windswept fragrance, elegantly disheveled and grumpy.
I lived in the house of sweet memories, and smiling faces on rose hued walls,
As rouge sun swims in roses nightly, prior to descending the precipitous falls.
Street performers were small, singing sparrows, on my swank avenue of sun;
Like a solo turns into a chorus, creating a prettier song-more elegantly done!
Nearsighted neighbors came to see me nights, and gaze at nacre pearl moon,
On the peach, peony porch of my placidness, in colors of the faded afternoon.
All were seized in summer's saffron grip, creating orange juice mist sunsets,
Like walking away, when it is best, and yet brave enough to have no regrets.
Flowers thrilled hot, apricot hours, and birdsong excited long, obsidian nights,
Cats slept on porches of ruby pansies, their short, sweet lives full of delights.
Then persistent tragedy finally struck me, when I lost a dear family member;
And while I suffered long and cried, I was comforted by smiles I remembered!
I found great solace in my work, for helping others paves the way for smiles,
Like keeping glad eyes on the summer garden, to delve its newest color files.
I found a love and was eventually married, like first tango of sun and planets;
And we and our children continue family traditions, like lofty birdsong habits.
Today, my grief is much diminished, like storm clouds fading into saffron sun,
For minds full of memories, help loving hearts heal, like rosy day just begun.
These are some interesting shrooms that i have never picked:
Bay bolete cap looks like brownish blood in color stipe is whitish brown mild flavour Edible
Black trumpet looks like black sardacenia
It’s edible.From its shape that is incredible
Pick it from June thru September
Charcoal Burner,your cap color is purple/olive to
grey .Stipe is creamy white. Its cap reminds me of a renaissance sky on a cloudy day .Its edible
Chicken of the woods cap isorangey reddish yellow color,a shroom with flair.Kind of a bracket fungus- its edible but take care
Coral Tooth Fungus looks like coral it’s colour is white as the driven snow .It is edible when soft
Remember pick it from May thru December
Crab Brittlegrill’s cap color red to purple or brown Smells like shellfish .Have a shellfish like flavor when. Cooking with fish should not be overlooked
Feild mushroom cap is creamy white . This shroom used everywhere with no care
The Flirt’s cap colour brown like wood to pink or red. Stipe is whitish. Taste is mild and nutty .It would be great in salads with honey
Golden Chanterel is one my favorites.It’s flappy cap goes from orangey brown to yellow. Flavour is like apricot and mellow. Would taste good in a fruit salad
The Gypsy mushrooms cap color is golden brown
It reminds me of a feild of wheat. Once cooked has a it has a-nutty flavour that one can savour
The King Bolete ,I want to try. It has a mild nutty taste .I think that is great. Its cap is brown. It’s
stipe is white.Remember the times from June thru December
Morels: Black and Yellow. I would like them on
my cheese burgers,what a treat Yellow morel cap color yellow-brown or cream -brown .Black morel cap color golden brown to black. Cook them well ,put in your favorite dishes you will never go back
The Orange Oak Bolite I want to try.It cap is golden orange to brown. Stipe is white .They are easy to be found. Cook them well or you will experience Hell .
On North Penderton Island I saw boacious boletes To bad I could not get them it would
be a treat.
I saw huge fly agaric too. Their cap 10 inches in diameter who knew .Painted on in painting,
got criticized by my teacher -who knew she had a cow!
a cow
Full and slowly opening in the room
a dozen roses bloom;
large buds once tightly closed
their fragrance open and arose;
a beauty of colors, lavender base
crimson tipped hues upon their face;
blushing pinks ready to unfold,
nothing better than a rose.
The whites open freely
as a single apricot glows discretely;
centered on the table, to the sun exposed
arranged carefully in layered rows;
two short lavender in front, the apricot and two whites
with seven tall lavender blooming in delight;
such a treat, some special thought
secured in love, not purchased just bought.
A dozen roses mark the spot
to say he loves me, loves me not?
savored with a kiss upon the cheek,
soft and gentle, please repeat;
gratitude, appreciation for the years we played
in the game of courting love on parade;
recalled now thru times of vigor and vim,
securing the memory of him.
A dozen roses given for no reason,
a costly price out of season;
but the thought continues to survive
in pressed dry petals, no longer alive;
while in the warmth of spring's young sun
love surpasses the short time we'd won;
beautiful and true
the lasting I love you.
Kiss me soft and gentle into old age,
write a love poem on the page;
who would have thought how far we've come
when life seemed ever on the run;
busy and rushing, we did pause
to keep life from slipping away just because;
hold me closer, kiss me tender
these are moments I want to remember.
A dozen roses set the scene
trimmed and tapered by the greens;
baby breath, full, white and thick
but it's the roses that make the mix;
a wafted fragrance perfumes the air
that carries heart and mind back there;
the good times and the bad,
the happy and the sad.
They all bring a tear to my eye
while on your shoulder I softly cry;
give me back those times,
summers warm and winter wines;
as life goes on, brief as it is,
we each had much to give;
but roses lose their petals, bend and fade
it is dreams that remain, keeps me safe, unafraid.
Inspire an old song from the 60s days. Bring me a rose.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v1CgVvg9-5E
Samuel Woodruff was a very old man, who once drummed for the army;
That marched to his rhythmic music, along with all fifers, playing hearty.
That was a lifetime ago, in dawn days so pink, golden, and richly green;
Like petal strewn time moving backward, to the premiere, pivotal scene.
Samuel never stopped playing drums, like mulberry heartbeats of sunset,
And played them after his daily walks; like the love you will never forget.
His fast friend, Comet, followed him, through fields of fascination flowers;
As he made up ditties to match the beat, of the flaming, futuristic hours.
Of faithful family, Sam had none, but for his fond, faddish sister, Pauline;
Who felt every fandangle pulse of summer, like allure on the silver screen.
Sam lived in the house of memories, of past and present changing places;
Where often rolling thunder was noted, like apricot roses, in cream vases.
Starlight snuck in windows, on a street that never seemed to say goodbye;
As sophisticated moon adored supper music, of redbirds, next to ebon sky.
Neighbor children noticed Sam's ditties, and often trailed behind to listen,
To each verse of nostalgia, featuring him. They loved all the fun repetition!
'Mad dog skullcaps' were running amok, when black-eyed Susans, sparkled;
And bright daffodils recalled Narcissus, when magenta butterflies, startled.
'Cupid's dart' flowers were hitting the mark, working magic in love potions;
While chrysanthemums spread the 'truth,' in vivid colors, of every emotion.
Samuel was heading home, one weekend day, and a huge crowd followed;
Comprised of both children and adults, like pretty colors, sunset swallowed.
The people sang along and clapped with Sam, to the song so easy to learn,
As Sam played his drum to the march, elated with sweet memory's return!
Many years have gone since then, and though Samuel's no longer around,
Folks still march while singing his song; as violets spring from the ground.
'This old man, he played one,
He played knick-knack on my thumb,
With a knick-knack paddywhack,
Give the dog a bone,
This old man came rolling home.'
I'd rather be inside doing the baking
Than the one being baked outside in the sun.
I never learned how to barbecue,
As my Dad ran away when I was only two.
Though my Mum taught me how to shoot for the pot,
Which really hit the spot,
As I could do that without seeing a single sun spot.
My Possum is really quite delicious,
Even if slightly malicious.
I have a habit of making a stew out of rabbit.
Visitors are big on anything made from pig.
It would be a mistake to miss my venison steak,
Or duck out without some roast duck.
My ham and eggs are never green, though quite lean.
Mushroom soup with homemade bread will keep you fed
Til the rest of the food is prepared
You can grub for hu hu grubs for me to roast on sticks.
My roast parsnip contains no arsenic.
I don't have to tout for my trout.
Or make a deal for a pie made of eel.
You can make a toast while I tend to the roast.
Or if you prefer give the gravy a stir.
I won't get cross if you give the salad a toss.
Or set the table if you are able.
We can talk while you find me a fork.
Afterwards I will let you judge my fudge.
If you can still budge.
And I will find some liquor that is still pure.
My apple pie with cream piled high is really worth a try.
Pears with homemade wine are quite divine.
I have an art for the apricot tart.
And you won't get over my Pavlova.
I bake my cakes with fresh eggs which seems to please the hens.
Our honey is worth the money
And our jams are in favour for their flavour.
I produce a cheese that aims to please.
My biscuits soon stray from the tray.
If you want any thing more fancy we can look in the pantry.
With skin cancer on the rise, I think I am wise
In getting up early to watch my bread rise.
Though I am still game to go outside with my gun by my side.
But when the sun starts to hurt the eye,
My oven goes back on high for when you come by.
If you stay the night you can dance under moonlight
And wish upon a star from afar outside of a car.
Wouldn't that be more fun than going out in the mid-day sun.
With your true face scared to be exposed.
Of all the things that I have lost
Perhaps what hurts the most
Is that I can no longer go
to where I once called home...
I cannot roam with childish glee
Down through the leafy grove
Nor play with snowballs, dance is snow
Then thaw beside the stove
I cannot use pink muhlberries
To paint my childish lips
I cannot eat the greens I've picked
Right down to soily tip
I cannot brown my little legs
Beneath the blazing sun
Or slpash in cold and icy pool
Until the day is done
I cannot play my hide and seek
With gateman's little kids
Nor drink the flavored Persian tea
Chase dreams through drooping lids
I cannot rub the walnut skins
And stain my fingers black
I cannot gorge on cherries sweet
I can't bring one day back
I cannot pick the blubell flowers
Or swing from walnut tree
I cannot gorge on luscious fruit
Those mountains, I can't see
I cannot run through fresh green grass
Nor bask on asphlat walk
I cannot run through classroom halls
Or tire from childish talk
I cannot show off gardened home
To foreigners and say,
"This place is really paradise
That none can steal away"...
I had a dream last night that I was back in my childhood home in Tehran, Iran. We lived in a walled, gated compoud that was the property of our church. My father was a school principal and the administration building and dorms were on our campus. We were situated in Shemran, at the foot of the ELBRUS mountain range. The compund was green.....beautiful. We'd swim in the icy cold pool then lie on asphalted walks to warm up. We had a cherry orchard, walnut, apple, apricot, plum, muhlberry, and almond trees. It would snow in winter, and My brothers would jump off the roof of our house into the snow. I can't describe the ache in my heart at not being able to go back. It was an enchanting childhood and no one can steal my memories. After the revolution in 1979, the government took over the property....but they can't take My dreams. I've shared this....painstakingly written on my phone because my dream was so vivid. I needed to share...
"As a child I maintained a stoic attitude.
I exhibited patience, restraint, resignation, forbearance, and lack of complaint.
The ideal child you might say. As I grew, I realized the error of my ways."
¬The Poet¬
Dreaming improbable dreams.
Reality betwixt the unsealing
Softly fluttering butterfly wings
Apricot anacondas wreathing
Bleating lambs catapult seaward
Over volcanoes about to erupt
Prismed glass rainbows sliding
Monuments souring unhindered.
No longer enslaved slaves
Thinking the unthinkable
To be what I truly feel
Tears that can’t be cried
Walnut shells dismembered,
For pathways to the unknown
Physically powerful reasons.
Persimmons permeate perfume,
Soft velvet sparks so subtle
Teardrops fall in puddles,
Weary eyes forge forward,
Everlasting daisies wilt
Forlorn ekphratic regrets
Misted windows endorse,
The pain as its vile pungency
Scorns the soul of the angelic
drives goodness to the brink,
mighty swords flow protests
to the unyielding winds of time
To defiantly stand up to demons
for a valid worthwhile cause
as the lyrics of memoirs spill
and gazes turn to wonder,
amid lonely nights of fear
with only love unblemished
if not myself what can I be?
to reach an unreachable star
I surrender to their touch.
Untold ethics to be true.
The sweet rose petals pink
And cumquats bursting
And ever do I regret the sigh,
Of your entwined lullaby
With cold adorning feathers
The sorrowful peacock wails,
An unending finale of song
To ease my savage thoughts
Doing it my way evermore,
And regain courage to protest,
In tangerine oasis in the seas
Instilling birds and bees hum
And bliss of your caressing
On clouds of coral swaying
As lilac shoots skyward
In ever circling cascades
Of merriment galore in store
Where mirth and joy combine
Making sediment pure wine
All logic cast aside in the wash.
The righted wrongs unsaid.
Resting my tired head
Culminating in enough said.