Long Pecans Poems
Long Pecans Poems. Below are the most popular long Pecans by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Pecans poems by poem length and keyword.
Oh, for the taste of a sweet, juicy berry,
some sweet rose petals would make me happy;
I'm so tired of woody browse and acorns,
my throat gets dry and my teeth are worn.
For an aging buck needs good sustenance;
I hate the browse cracking, such dissonance!
I long for tree buds, tender grass and shoots;
I'd kiss a squirrel for some acorns or fruits.
I love buckeye, chestnuts, pecans and raspberry;
some strawberries, blueberries and blackberries.
To run through the fields seeking a spouse
and revel in the colors of those lovely grouse.
An apple or two, perhaps some paw-paws,
fresh almonds are tasty to chomp in my jaws.
Sweet herbs like lemon grass, sage and chicory,
dandelions, alfalfa, plantain and hickory.
I yearn for those tasty pleasures of Spring,
my mate and I will enjoy everything!
2-14-2023
Winter is not Forever Poetry Contest
BJ Legros Kelley
The Whittlers
The stately county courthouse was their usual meeting place,
a columned Greek Revival, and a lovely public space.
They sat upon their benches under lofty pecan trees,
wood shavings on their ankles and some cedar twixt their knees.
Those old boys were called the whittlers, but that was a disguise.
They came to talk of memories and hang out with the guys.
Born long before the TV went and addled peoples wits,
they could tell some stories that would cause your sides to split.
They'd kid me 'bout the pile of books that I had just checked out.
Said I was sure to ruin my eyes and fry my brain no doubt.
But I guess they got a kick out of their young devoted fan,
'cause they'd trot out all their stories and tell them all again.
There were stories of big ranches and oil boom shanty towns,
of work on rigs as roughnecks and touring rodeo clowns,
and how they used to ride the rails when no work could be found.
But the way they spun those stories had me rolling on the ground.
And in between a whittle and another spit and chew,
they showed me how to whet a knife and tie a buckaroo.
Though they had so many stories and lessons to impart,
I'd have to hear the cowboy code before I could depart.
"You give a man a good hard shake and look him in the eye.
If you mess up, tell it straight, never cover with a lie.
Always give a full day's work and live out each day with heart.
A man's no good without his word, so finish what you start.
Protect the weak and help them, and respect your elders, too.
Never leave a friend behind, nothing else will ever do.
And when your days on Earth are done, according to God's plan,
you can face up to the reaper, and meet him like a man.”
If that was all I learned from them, that lesson was enough.
For a kid without some guidance, this life can be quite tough.
Other folks made fun of them, and thought them no account.
For me they were the heroes I would trade for no amount.
The stately county courthouse still stands upon those grounds,
although now those shaded benches are nowhere to be found.
And where once the mighty whittlers carved and held their court,
the squirrels now gather up pecans and chase around for sport.
© December 28, 2013
Memories of a bookworm. Considerable poetic license taken.
The red rising sun has transformed
Into puffy white striated gray clouds
Pasted onto a blue, sky-blue sky
A lovely scene touched by cool air
The partly cloudy touch says
A chance of rain upon a dry land
Others have had some showers, but
So dry here, thank God no flood
Morn's sun lifts above the clouds
A brilliance sifts through the pecans
It lights up the shimmering dew 'pon the grass
Such a pleasant time on the porch
There are coyotes and dogs barking
Birds sing of nesting completed
I wonder do they know of winter
Or of a long winter's sleep
Does this year's hatchlings have instinct
Or is their brain a blank slate
Only God knows some of the answers
Because He was the one who created
3 cups of pecans
1 cup of raisins
11/4 sunflower seeds
1/4 chopped dates
1/4 cup of honey
1 teaspoon of sesame seed oil
1/4 spicerum
3 tablespoons of lime juice
4 tablespoons of brown sugar
1 teaspoon of ground ginger
1 tablespoon of cayenne
1/2 onion powder
1/2 teaspoon of garlic powder
in a sauce pan mix, lime juice,sesame seed oil,honey,,brown sugar, and spiced rum
over a low heat, cook until mixture has dissolved.add spices.
in a bowl coat the nut mixture with the sauce, and spread nut mixture on a cookie sheet to cool. separate the clumps in the serving sized portions allow to completely cool and serve.
One must dare to decelerate and take note of a squirrel.
I am learning what it’s like to observe a few note worthy ways
and sometimes selfish behaviors of squirrels in my back yard.
Like the time that a squirrel took my pecans from my makeshift
platform after I put them there to dry. You might not call them selfish,
but perhaps you would, if you loved pecans as well as my wife and me
I am forgiving though about the pecans, because I enjoy watching them
walk and run atop the fence with very little effort. I tell you, I am captured as I watch them chase each other from limb to limb, or race up a palm tree and hide beneath those protruding stickers.
Their movements are so agile and quick; and they appear to be afraid and in a constant state of readiness. However, they could also be fearless, provided they are able to keep adequate distance from you. They believe it to be their right to any and every nut their little hearts desire,
without any regards to ownership.
Were I at work 9 to 5 or some other shift, I would not have learned such minor truths about squirrels; and had I not been retired, never would I have seen a squirrel outwit a cat who gave in and walked slowly away.
There’s a beautiful and wild kingdom out there my friend. Let’s enjoy it.
04222015 PS Contest, Animal Antics, Shadow Hamilton
The genie in the bottle beside Alladin's lamp
awaiting the cue to perform her dance
Aromatic spices fill the air..authentic meals to be my fare.
Tagines of fowl and lamb....fish and yams
Bastille chicken flavored with cinamon, raisins and date palm.
Finely ground walnuts,pecans and such
give flavors ..a mysterious touch.
Walls alive in mosaic designs.....brocaded covered chairs,
vivid colors dazzlingly bright ...... send my mind on a fantasy flight
to Biblical times.
Tamborines and drums...castanets and strings ,
tease the soloist as she sings.......in language strange,
croons an angelic voice...is it
that of Solomon the king?
The desert draws near .... and there
behold, Moses leading the Israelites...
Noah building his ark.......pairs of animals to be seen
the furious Pharao beside his Egyptian queen.
king solomon himself upon his throne
a solitatry figure as though made of stone.
The Genie dances only as such a one can
with sharp sword balanced atop her head.
Among flying scarves , a dizzying path.....
through tables and chairs she weaves.
Her body a nudge....a tremor...... a blur
leaves a mysterious afterglow.
Then the music stops.... the scenery fades
Now I'm back to a place that fails to compare
to the distant one I've seen
with Alladin's lamp as my guide ..... a mysterious genie by my side..
Just to let my friends know that this was my experience last night during my
Birthday dinner. We dined at a Morroccan restaurant. a delightful experience it
was.
Pleasantries of passivity before the pinch of shrill cold
ripples over the landscape in the suburbs of Buffalo—
before its trees crispin and leaves twirl about— giggling
like school girls, rippling in the claustrophobic dark.
My existence, contingent on three months: conceived
in January - a honeymoon baby, born in October, yet
September is pivotal to my existence as two sets
of twins were born, one year and a few miles apart.
September is neither hot nor cold in the passing
of Spring - I must state that this intermediary stage
is not prosaic - its conjoined arm in arm seasons
for lovers, families, bundles of joy, apple of the eyes.
Climbing of trees, climatic offspring of seedlings,
sweet and sour opposites attract the saplings
and their mentors — momentous happenings
that thrill through muscle memories of September.
Outdoors to explore as air conditioners cool off,
as central heating waits in line, as school dances
erupt, and festivals bring their baskets of fruit
for those jiggling pocketfuls of change. Exchange
of hopefulness, the eye of the storm with its zephyr
zealousness— fertile ground of safety on simmer.
One honeymoon baby drifted South toward peaches,
pecans and the annual Yellow Daisy Festival.
Roots of September— my smile wide, in dungarees,
seasonal daring, my squeeze, and succulent sweetheart.
Hello September, a selfie-group hug, a gregarious greeting.
Slipping from Summer, swaddling into such colder winds.
9/18/2021
Honey Locust Trees, perched precariously on
Ledges lost amid ruptured chasms of evil
Ant hills, protruding fistfuls of grapefruit-sized
Giant ants suffering remnants within sight of
Chernobyl, in the Ukraine forbidden zone;
Seemingly immune to the poisonous pods;
Literally dripping heavy ants clinging to juicy,
Waxy seeds as they climb and fall over each
Other feasting on spandrel sins denied by silver
Palaces adorned with backroom deals and
Shady hats glittering with guava-glazed
Toasted pecans, spun with rain-soaked
Clumps of blue spirulina hungrily engulfed
By the living dead...
Enrobed
In
Pock-marked
Palladium
Please Leave
On a scale of one to ten with ten being my favorite ice cream or cake, chocolate ice cream is nowhere on the scale, and hopefully, not in my house.
Coming in at number six would be strawberry ice cream or angel food cake.
Please do not insult me with any kind of cookies or candies in my ice cream.
To each its own. So why take away such a God ordained purity of the sweeties?
I would give a very strong competitive edge to vanilla bean as my number eight.
I try very hard to keep all types of ice cream away from me and out of my house.
But when I fail at keeping it out, temptation forces me if its any vanilla with nuts.
I know that I could just say "No" and quickly walk away, but "Yes" bullies me.
If I’m lucky, I eat one cup of black walnut cream, but if I’m a looser, two or three.
I tell you, I’m always a looser if maple nut or pecans in vanilla slips into my freezer.
If for some reason such creams find a way into my house, what choice do I have except to devour them? Without a doubt, pecans and maple nut absolutely rank a ten.
There’s a famous pie store in my community; and their New York cheese cake? Tops!!!
Cj09262015(Contest, "Melts.....")
*WE ALL LIVE IN A ‘NUT SUBMARINE’
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
In a park where the oaks stretch tall,
four bushy-tailed lads heed the call.
With acorn guitars and a nut-shaker beat,
the Liverpudlians scamper on stage
John Lemontail, sharp-eyed and sly,
scribbles lyrics that question the sky:
*“Imagine no birdfeeders… it isn’t hard to do…”
Paul McNutty, the crooner so smooth,
sings *“Yesterday, my walnuts were gone—
Now I need a new place to carry on!”
George Harristripes, mystic and lean,
chants *“Within You, Without You, Walnut Supreme.”
He meditates deep ‘neath a mushroom cap’s shade.
Ringtail Starr, on a hollow log drum,
thumps out a rhythm: “Boom-chicka-bum!”
His cheeks bulge with pecans, a percussive stash.
They thrill on the Ed Sullivan stage,
*“Twist and Shout!” they harmonize causing quite a rage
leaving female squirrels with nutty desire.