Long Strawberries Poems
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Spring is on it's way out,
with warmer days on the horizon.
Summer is a great time of the year,
sleeping in from school ~ hooray.
Splashing fun time at the pool or beach,
to cookouts of BBQ and Ice cold lemon aid.
A bounty of fruits from sweet peaches,
to ripe red juicy strawberries.
Great homemade desserts,
from warm peach cobbler with ice cream,
to strawberry shortcake with extra whipped topping.
It will be raining in summer soon,
sooner than one might think.
Even the soft rain will join in,
to cool the hot days off.
The flowers will love their bath and drink,
as they multiply in the gardens.
I wait impatiently for summer,
you come and go too quickly.
the last tastes of summer slowly evaporate on my tender tongue.
no longer will fresh strawberries burst outside my cottage window,
nor will the smell of blooming lilacs fill my lungs.
as the first chills of changing seasons graze my skin,
gently rubbing my arms, i feel goosebumps forming from within.
the sunlight of hope gives way to the dusk of sorrow,
frost glistening as stardust reflects on autumn leaves.
a misty fog rolls in over the browning hills,
whilst isolation begins to take hold.
the distant birdsong of an owl echoes through the painful landscape.
staggering toward the unkempt window,
i shut the lightly dusted shutters,
so just for a brief moment in time, despondent worlds disappear.
behind a fabricated reality,
i can pretend with my indebted shadows.
stammering, i find the play button on my stereo;
goodbye to you rings in my mournful ears~
as the final warmth of yesterday shifts into the bitterness of perpetuity,
leaving my somber sky adorned with pixelated promises,
while this heart longs for an ethereal escape
from a raven-winged horizon,
cloaked in cracked amethysts and jinxed crystals.
Summertime, a wonderful time full of nostalgic teenage memories
I spent many weekends with my best friend Tina at Bear Pond Park
Memories of packing our swimsuits, towels, music and bagged lunches
And We always brought our spending money for the snack shack
We chewed grape bubble gum in the car and gossiped on the way
It was a fun time and I always looked forward to those special days
At the park, we swam, worked on our tans and went on the slides
Laughing, flirting with the boys while racing down the rainbow rides
In the late afternoon We had our deep dish ice cream sundaes
Memories of my tongue tickled by the tartness of the strawberries,
while soothed by frozen vanilla custard with layers of whipped cream
We ate at the picnic table while sweet dribbles landed on our swimsuits
We had to wait a while before we could go back and swim in the lake
We went back to the rainbow slides, laughing and chewing bubble gum
Our swimsuits dotted with ice cream and berry stains, soon to be washed away
We had one last afternoon swim, our suits washed clean until the next weekend.
6/26/22
Contest: Ice Cream Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Julia Ward
N/A Judged 7/15/22
The chocolate-covered strawberries
Were free, as a promotion.
My friend gave me a coupon - "Use it
If you've got the notion."
I brought them home and ate a few
Then stuck them in the freezer.
I didn't love them but I said I did,
So it would please her.
That was a year ago and I'd
Forgotten they existed,
But when I found them, tossing them
Was something I resisted.
You see, my friend who'd coupon-shared
No longer is alive.
It seems ironic that these treats, though,
Managed to survive.
They hardly take up any room
Behind the ice cube tray
So that is where, at least for now,
Those strawberries will stay.
Plan B
We met on a cheerful day, and I found you bright.
It was just in passing, But I can not get you…
out of my mind.
The next time I…, we… met,
you were smiling still, helping some stranger…
and believing good in all people.
I thought that lost among the masses.
You are like a beacon. You stand out in the night.
In the day you challenge the sun…
by accident, as not by design.
You are humble, and real!
The very earth smells good, after you walk by.
Peaches, coconuts, and strawberries…
depending on the day.
I put on my best shirt. I put on pressed pants.
I find my father's tweed jacket.
The perfect bow tie, and my hair slick back…right!
This time I plan… It would not be by chance.
We will meet again…, I will not hesitate.
I will…
Speak?
Compliment?
I will have the courage to ask her name?
Then, the time was right. There…!
The steps of the church, I can hear wedding bells.
My knees are locked tight and I can not walk.
The angel of my dreams, dances… down the path,
out… to her car and is sadly, gone.
This time I plan…
East of Eden and
The Tingler.
The lady killer and
Julius Caesar.
A star is born and
Vertigo.
The Killing and
Ace in the hole.
Godzilla and
The night and fog.
Johnny Guitar and
Hound Dog.
Wild strawberries
And Stalag 17.
High noon and
The African queen.
Ray Charles and
Kiss me deadly.
The big sky and
The voyage to Italy.
Dean Martin and
Buddy Holly.
Casper and
Mr. Peabody.
House of Wax and
Elevator to the Gallows.
Elvis and
Tears on my pillow.
Asphalt jungle and
In a lonely place.
The big heat and
Chantilly lace.
Hank Williams and
Chuck Berry.
Sunset BLVD and
Tom and Jerry.
Turbo1904?
With luscious lips, like succulent cherries,
glistening morsels kissed by morning dew,
her rouge-tinted cheeks like pink strawberries.
She's the undisputed queen of fairies
eyes of aquamarine and glacial blue,
with luscious lips like succulent cherries.
Her hair flows like the wheat on the prairies
shimmering locks of gold and amber hue,
her rouge-tinted cheeks like pink strawberries.
Her mysterious smile seldom varies,
a look that is provocative and true
with luscious lips like succulent cherries.
Her sweet, subtle scent lingers and carries
an aroma that's known to but a few,
her rouge-tinted cheeks like pink strawberries.
A virgin imp from the loins of Aries,
a prize many men would wish to pursue.
With luscious lips like succulent cherries,
her rouge-tinted cheeks like pink strawberries.
(Villanelle)
1/9/2015
Her house is hidden deep inside
where most will never go
Beyond where little children play
and wild strawberries grow
It’s camouflaged with plants and vines
she uses in her spells
A pentagram adorns her door
with silver antique bells
The people say the witch’s brews
all have some magic powers
She makes them with the plants she grows
and oils from special flowers
Some of this and some of that
the mystery remains
Her tangled web of secret plants
grow stronger when it rains
The people from the nearby town
all purchase her home brews
For health and love and longer life
which ever they might choose
At first newcomers don’t believe
her potions really work
And drink a few to get along
but always with a smirk
And then one day they ask a friend
to take them to the gate
So they can get a bottle too
Because they’re feeling great
He admitted he was sorry and that he had transgressed
The look of guilt upon his face just couldn’t be suppressed
The evidence was undisputed - there for all to see
And I was really quite annoyed when he confessed to me
I’d made the cake for his sister whose birthday would be soon
But he couldn’t wait for the party to be held that afternoon
The sight of cream and strawberries was more than he could bear
And so he scoffed the bloomin’ lot, so greedy and unfair!
I looked at him quite sternly; what was I going to say
To make him fully realise the error of his ways?
With folded arms and furrowed brow I took a threatening stance
In order to rebuke him for this most serious offence
‘So, what are we to do with you? You’ve eaten all the cake
Your sister won’t be happy and I’m sure that she will make
A fuss and carry on, oh, what am I to do?
I’ll never hear the end of this and it’s all thanks to you’
With trembling lip and teary eye he looked up at me and said
‘But, mom, it looked so yummy; please don’t send me to bed’
And then I realised how much I love my son, my pride and joy
Oh, how could I be mad at him, my darling little boy!
Wimbledon is tennis whites
And strawberries and cream.
Winning there has got to be
A tennis player’s dream.
Watching Roger Federer,
So cool and poised and Swiss,
I knew his lips would give
The champion’s cup its winning kiss.
Andy Murray played his best.
All Britain cheered him on;
But next to Roger’s expertise,
His oomph was up and gone.
There hasn’t been a British champ
Since 1936,
So Andy’s loss went over
Like a crashing ton of bricks.
And yet the crowd was gracious,
Greeting Roger with applause.
Perhaps they knew defeating him
Was really a lost cause.
It’s wonderful to watch a champ
Competing in his prime
And satisfying to pay tribute
With a spot of rhyme.