Long Berries Poems
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An ode to the gustatory ******
My mouth meanders through this dream
This memory of breakfast in bed
A lover seducing my every desire
Sweet maple, slight hint of flannel
A light crispness of waffle
Caressed by firm red breasted berries
A passing breath of hickory smoke
To mingle light sweetness
With the tingle of strawberries
Bathed in Vermont’s best maple
Eggs, uncaged, unfettered by shells
Sunrise yolks spreading across crisp waffles
To quell the insatiable beast of morning
Palate cleansed by the darkness
Of steaming hot black coffee
A tremble at the first taste of
Egg-stasy kissed by syrup
Teased by a sharp berry bite
Placed upon the edge
Of hickory salty ham
My taste buds shriek
As each bite intensifies
My gustatory ******
I went off to Las Vegas for some berry
On to some fun times ... not to get bury
Perhaps wide eye a show, and sight see
Not end up at the bottom of the blue sea
The voice of the red devil said, why not
And like every sap, I was tied into a knot
All it took were a few drinks of red whine
A couple of lost bets, and I began to whine
Where were my angels to sing my hymn
Be at my side, be on the right side of Him
I lost a thousand rabbits down the hole
A few drinks ago, I was happy and whole
Then I was robbed and the rabbits soared
As each hopped away, my face was sore
That was my rent money you know
Is it my fault the guiding voice didn't say no
The casino host hoisted my daze
By smiling, please have a better day
I replied it wasn't my aim to throw a fete
And watch my rabbits go through a bad fate
I walked sadly away, lost, like another fool
The loss, raging on, unwanted, and full
10/8/22
Homophone Rhyme Poetry Contest
Sponsor-Hat Bueckert
N/A
"Never paint except with the three primary colors [red, blue, and yellow] and their derivatives." Camille Pissarro
One primary color can make me feel mellow
when warm like honey heated up or like rays of a golden sun.
It’s flax, saffron, blond, and canary yellow,
cheerful like a daffodil and bumblebee fun.
It’s bananas too and a well-buttered bun!
The second and vivid primary color
spells energy, boldness, passion and power.
Cardinals make most other birds seem simply duller.
A symbol of love, rose reigns as a fragrant red flower,
while scarlet and crimson sunsets my eyes can devour.
The loveliest for me of these three colors is the hue
that melds with yellow, thus creating green.
Some jewels, blooms and berries are naturally blue.
Splendid is a dusk with the tint of an indigo sheen.
Oh, cerulean sky above seawater shimmering aquamarine!
Orange cosmos flowers inside a circle
along with the canna indica flowers;
A big smile of welcome at the front entrance. Followed by Pink, red and yellow ixoras,
the fully bloomed harlequin wonders;
Enthrall butterflies and sun birds
Violet, Red and new comer pink Balsums
are the evergreen shrub
The nonpareil Marvels
Night blooming jasmine flowers
adorn the sideways of the garden;
Meant to engross the moths
The bright yellow alamanda,
the heroine of our garden.
Made us fall in love with yellow
Glittering stars in the morning,
blaze like the diamonds in red and yellow;
The spectacular magic of sun plants
The black night shade plants
bear the inky purple sun berries;
Food for the red vented bulbuls
The Red hibiscus at the corner
attracts everyone's sights
by its innocent grin
The 4'o clock mandharai flowers
unfurl attractive perfumes
and embellish our garden in the evening
Grass green climber braces,
trumpet shaped madevillas,
The small stabs on flowers,
connote attendances of sun birds
Cutest creepers I've ever seen,
amidst the tall green grass;
The metallic blue Verbena
Sometimes our old friends Asian Koels
and our migrating friends Brahminy starlings
visit for their breakfast.
Mynas sing like parrots
and sometimes imitate Koels;
Mimicry Experts they're
Some plants are hostplants
of the common mormons, jezebels,
praying mantis and the signature spiders
Yellow billed blabbers,
the king of our garden;
The faithful defender of our home,
none can step in without their consent.
Squirrels scamper here and there,
and elegant butterflies in the air
proliferate happiness everywhere
Have you ever seen a place like this anywhere?
To embrace glee, you no need to be a Billionare.
Just Visit our garden, you will feel the real bliss, I swear!
This time of year is most dear to me
Nature puts on a show for all to see
Sring rids the grey skies and sad looking browns
Blooming buttercup trumpets blaring beautiful sounds
Chilly mornings and warm afternoons
The lovely spring season never comes too soon
Dogwoods are blooming from berries to flowers
Soft, warm breezes and gentle rain showers
Bumblebees buzzing like pollen mailmen
Colors become vibrant all over again
Everywhere you look, new life burst from the ground
Birds begin to sing a magnificent sound
Cardinals and bluebirds come into view
They harmonize a natures chorus just for you
Beautiful flowers everywhere are candy for your eyes
Blue skies and cotton clouds fill the sky
Its the season of freshness energy, and the earth feels clean
The feeling of lying in a hammock with a lite hearted dream
Or walk through an open field and take it all in
Hello favorite season good to see you again
Days become longer, and time passes slow
All nature new colors radiantly glow
Bright mornings and long afternoons
Daylight savings time never comes too soon
Spring is here, and mother nature shows us all
That Spring season is my first choice; my second is fall.
Lpickard
I will always remember those uneven paths,
which led me to you -
sorrowful reminder of promises I could not keep.
All you wanted was to sit with me for a while,
to talk and maybe try to make me smile.
Yet fate did not let us share the stars,
not even for one night - now there is only darkness.
I will never forget,
how you would sit under the sage green veranda,
sipping on your sweet tea, laughing and chatting away.
Many would sit and listen to your non fiction tales
about when the air was clean and the fields were green,
childhood mischief and forgotten memories.
I'll always remember that glint in your eyes,
the warmth in your smile and that sui generis voice.
Especially when parades of birds would chirp at dawn
and when gazing at fireflies flickering under lanterns at dusk.
The veranda is now silent,
but grandma still calls your name.
The aroma from those abundance of petals still lingers,
but your scent does not appear.
Berries still appear from your affluent olive trees,
but they shall never be hydrated by your hands.
Sweet jasmine still climbs up veranda poles,
maybe trying to reach heaven, to be with you.
Your last words will always live with me:
"Come sit with me, even just for a couple of days."
but the next day you were gone...
Dedicated to my grandfather.
1930 - 18 August 2018.
Silent One
26 August 2018
His scarlet head droops
towards his soulless emerald chest.
Perched upon a fruitless branch,
his spiritless eyes stare
at the emptiness of freedom.
Above, streaks of ruby hints
flow among coral flamingo shades,
as golden streaks swim through
crystallised kaleidoscopic skies -
but he feels no enthusiasm to fly.
What he thought would set him free,
has left his heart a companion-less hostage.
A lovebird without a purpose,
he is unable to warble a melody,
nor whistle for the love he left behind.
Raindrops splash his forlorn feathers,
he is too scared stiff to spread his wings.
His heart thumps like thunder,
as flashbacks of sitting, singing and locking beaks,
with feasts of berries, apples and seeds,
are regretful reminders of his misjudgement.
As he falls,
his last thoughts -
maybe freedom is not all that it seems..
Silent One
22 September 2019
Daybreak's beauty at its peek
Gentle warm breeze whispered softly through the trees
a lure to the unknown, down a winding path
sweet bouquet, wildflowers and berries
tease at the nostrils of hunger
Silence was swallowed by the force of rushing water
roaring energetically... but meditatively soothing
hypnotizing beauty, rippled carved ridges
smoothed patterns of time from ancient days
below...black jagged slate cut through a swirl of rapids
a testament of change to the stones of old
gushes of cool water slapped the walls
spitting out foamy white bubbles
racing droplets joined to form one body of strength
dropping...to a funnel below
capturing... a piece of daring driftwood
dragging it down under, it escaped bobbing free
then taken to a secret hide-a-way
a natural wonder...gratitude, beauty, demanding respect
the power of creation
all within life's perceptions
When morning breaks in shades of wine...
with claret skies to blush the dawn...
I will stretch and yawn, and thank the night
for this polished, apple day
I will wait until the sun is high, where dew upon the rose is dry
I'll have my cup, .. with toast and jam...
then, make escape, ..........the quest begins,
to seek my small reward
It happens slowly...
gathering reason from an untamed mind
Up into the meadow where the brambles climb
twisted and tangled, through burgandy vines
while deftly my fingers, will probe the maze
and reach for wild berries,.....warm from the haze
Then, thumping their goodness, one after one
into the bucket, dented and worn
A search through thorns, a prick on my thumb
till my back is ripe, and wet in the sun
Finger painting my faded blue jeans
Knowing my cheeks are flushing in pink
Sucking sweet juice from two crimson thumbs
Who cares a lick, of the thorns or a bee?
I am a bee, buzzing serenity...
plucking small bits of reason and sanity
taking home goodness in a battered tin pail
feeling alive, on a wild-flowered hill
Tonight's sweet delight, is warm berry cobbler,
oozing with goodness of juicy red gems
staining my tongue, and turning lips scarlet
dripping blood droplots onto my chin
Yet never as splendid, or tasting as fine,
as warmed by my smile, straight from the vine
Picking red berries, and freeing my mind
* *
* *
* *
*
*
counting vermillion clouds that are spun
then heading back home, with the red crimson sun
_____________________________________
For Shadow Hamilton's Contest: "Colours"
5/4/13
Resubmitted to Skat's contest:
The good old days
lost like the ancient
city of artatica,
concealed in growth
of youthful strenght.
Yet fresh like new
mead
it is in my memories.
By day we go sand-
molding
by the eve we go to
the field hunting
hoppers.
By night, stil we are
seen around grandpa
light
hearing tales of
unknown source.
During moony nights,
circles are formed,
playing the game of
the lost child of the
widowed woman.
And at times we
were driven by the
magic of the great
kelekele, running and
enjoy being cheased.
In the morn' we ran
out of door like a
cascading waterfall
with body bare as
adam and yet lacking
nutrents of shame.
The rabits, crikets,
palm cannels,playing
games of the koto
shells, hunting wild
berries in june.
All these are bye so
soon,
covered in the
inreversable change of
physical growth.
Its just once for each
stage, be the best
whatever stage you
are.
(c) copyright faith .u.
Edoja.sun 30 mar.2014