yellow green with pops of red
Rubenesque pregnant leaves on trees
rounded strokes
balls in balloon colors
oranges and lemons
mangos and peaches
cheerful potted plants in clay pots
tobacco rolled in the distance
white manor house with matching shed
enjoying their exciting fruitful bounty
this art gives me a lift, makes me want to skip
my energy increases on every glance
is that watermelon?
Wow!
Met her out in Costa Rica that summer
we were on the streets on Liberia when it hit me
crossed by an old casino long since burned out
forgotten
that’s when you looked at me
ever since then
and since that time down south
I wondered what you meant
back there
never questioined though
these things being the way
they always are
the timing wasn’t right
but it was more than just that
wasn’t it?
Took horses into the mountains
past ravines
groves with mangos not quite ripe
past howling monkeys
and up to the ridge
I could see you
Either way, whatever it was shattered in Cay Caulker
nothing good ever lasts
not in Belize anyway
all rounded down and divided in half
leaning on the collossus to keep itself afloat
you were there
and when I saw your smile
Got up and left my drink at the bar
didn’t want to start trouble with the guy
you came in with
Autumn waltzes,
in the maple trees,
As the ballerinas,
And gypsies,
Are combing,
The waves and their hair,
With their love,
Let the golden leaves,
Bow in the vines,
Of the wind,
And the vineyards,
Warm its mangos,
Caress within caress,
Whoever is swaying,
Will sway sweetly,
Light midnight candles,
In exotic stillness,
Read warm and loving,
sonnets,
And hum like jazz nightingales,
While their hair glows,
With enchantments,
Like summer fireflies,
In the moonlight
Reynaldo Casison
She is one of the sweetest,
Dancers,
Under the exotic moon,
Her eyes caresses,
Mangos,
And fountains,
With quiet tears,
And enchanted kisses,
Her beauty,
Is what the starry nights,
And moonlit vineyards,
Misses,
When the flowers,
Are swaying in the Sun
Reynaldo Casison
From the warm lap,
Of a vineyard,
The mango,
Dressed,
In the evening moonlight,
Orange,
As an exotic sunset,
Basks,
Upon the vines,
Like a gypsy,
In a flamenco stillness,
Within,
The vineyards,
Sweet sanctuary,
The tropical winds,
Caresses,
The mangos,
Flamenco dress,
And the enlivened mango,
Dances,
Like a gypsy,
From kiss to kiss,
When one caresses,
A mango,
And sips,
Its exotic wine,
The mangos sweetness,
Like an exotic woman,
Dances on,
The miracle of its sway,
A salsa tune,
From kiss to kiss,
The mango,
A rare harbor,
Of resilient sweetness,
And tender love,
The mango,
Sweet,
And exotic,
As a lovely gypsy woman,
The sway of her flamenco hem,
A crescent hip,
And an exotic thigh,
Uncorks,
A vineyard of sighs,
A bonfire,
Of heavenly desires,
From the warm lap,
Of a vineyard
Reynaldo Casison
Peach and mango, nature's sweet embrace,
In taste, they share a harmonious space,
Juicy, succulent, with flavors that chase,
A fruity symphony, a delightful grace.
In the orchard's shade, beneath the sun's warm kiss,
I savor ripe mangos, pure tropical bliss.
With skin so tender, hues of yellow and gold,
A story of summer, a tale to be told.
Alfonzo, the king of the lot,
With golden flesh, a taste so hot,
Juicy nectar, a fragrant pot,
In mango's realm, it hits the spot.
Kent, with its skin so green and smooth,
A tropical delight, a real behoove,
Sweet and luscious, it'll make you groove,
In mango feasts, it finds its groove.
The seed at the center, I won't cast away,
It's a part of this mango's story today.
With lips to the core, I suck on that stone,
Extracting every bit, not a morsel alone.
The seed, it holds memories too,
Of the mango's seedling journey, the rain and the dew.
I savor it all, from the flesh to the pit,
Each bite, each drop, in this moment, I commit.
Sitting under a mango tree,
Hot wind whispering through scented leaves,
Dreaming of nectar flowing thru your rosy lips,
Like the sweet juice from the mangos on the tree.
“The silent song of the sighing breeze’,
Conveys the loneliness of my heart for you,
When you hear the song, don’t cry,
Whisper your kiss back to me with the wind breeze.
In the morning, when Koel sings kuhu-kuhu from the boughs,
Think of my sweet love, he serenades before you wake up,
When you pick up a mango for dessert,
Think of the sweet love shared from my soul.
In the night, when Bulbul sings from the boughs,
Don’t be lonely, feel the depth of her sweet call from your heart,
The cool night wind breeze will lighten the separation pangs,
From “the silent song of the sighing breeze”.
1
Seven second serendipitous develop
Macro piano keys maestro, Lord
Ceiling laden with citrus psychedelic
Unsatiated homosapiens flawed
Ghost film fire eye-socket negatives
Kaleidoscope rolls in their skulls
Soiree opaque pink sequin sedatives
Scintillate wicked sinful impulse
Protein hungry industry herds herbivores
Apex predator caves to serpent
Coveted control position consumes pure
Curious article of cruel torment
Sacred score smudged in blood punishes
Hell or Heaven editors insidious
Emit charcoal chuckles, lit match judges
Bicker Bible's pixels ambiguous
Dusk draws hills, halcyon skied silhouette
God made man strive in shadow
Modified paradise prints timely pirouette
Gluttony grabs hanging mangos
22nd February
Sold Fables
In my little garden, balmy blooms are on display.
My purple Zinnia wears the crown in August sun
attracting tiny Hummingbirds and butterflies.
Ripe golden mangos blush with scarlet hues
so lush and juicy sweet…a favorite fruity treat.
Cooling ocean waves lure swimmers to the shore.
School begins, a sigh, it’s just August once more.
8-7-22
~First Place~
JUST AUGUST Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Andrea Dietrich
I left out riding my bike down
first street over looking the
wildly calm river artist's lined
bicentennial entrance way where
Thomas Edison Rockefeller
and Ford feasted on clams
my mind wandered about
the timing of the dem lights to
brighten the garden lofts above
the streets soft jazz from
Billie holiday rang out down
old Hendry street my heart strings
mingled with the Sunday drivers
passing by after mass fondly
trying to pick me up leaving
the shops it was noon it was
damp the sun peeked in behind
the gulf today a few children
skipped by carrying balloons
while the fishermen tossed nets
near the shore sand collected
beneath my toes as two boats
docked this was home my life
an yet the Caribbean whispered
to me waves slammed against
the stone walls I felt a few sprinkles
I quickly dashed into the book store
on the corner while the aroma of fresh
French bread gather all of my senses
luring me to a sit down with brunch
tiny raisin bagels diced mangos
inside a vintage wine glass
one thousand sparrows flew
backwards within the breeze
as I rest on the steps of St Francis
winter of discontent
contentious parade
snow man without carrot
flaked garrottes
icicles frozen synapses
permafrost neurons
refrigerated transmitters
crystal clear rime
arrested thoughts
shackled straightjackets
locked trap door
key shielded in white
powdered in residue
remains of resolve
a hot water-bottle
crocheted blanket
passion under cover
bed springs awaiting
for another season
and thawing delight
deconstructing what is
I am sunbathing
on paradise island
mangos in hand
kingfisher chirping
but my Princess is real
and her kiss
burns desire
02 January 2021
Winter Poetry Contest
Sponsor Emile Pinet
mango madness
the best mangos
I ever had
were in India
in the early spring
mango madness
spreads across India
as mangos are in season
and mangos are everywhere
on every menu
so sweet
so fragrant
so magical
mango madness
takes over
my soul
as I eat my mango
dreaming mango dreams
tweeter speak
Full bosoms
bulky,
wonderful ...
nuggets breasts
spoiled,
charming ...
They are pink mangos
luscious fruits,
Or the delicate little pears
bijou fragrant fruits.
Breasts awaken and
enchant
the vision,
the taste,
to the love !
H2o, showers does cause colorful flowers on earth to greatly bloom
It is on the atomic table: this of 2 hydrogen atoms and 1 oxygen
It being the transportation medium for all nutrients needed
Vital for all living cells absorbing their daily organic sustenance
H2o, in fruits juicy gushing gushers are oranges and watermelons
It assist us with our hygienic health and cleanses clothes
There in the sea we can do swimming, snorkeling and surfing
Grapes, of red and white wine fluids facilitate taste bud pleasure
H2o, in a human’s body is about 65%; that is liquid water
Steam vapors are in turbines and in steamboats and ship generators
Rains at cold temps produce unique snowflakes that falls to earth
Rivers and lake reservoirs are fresh water access and storage
H2o, in life, love, living and leisure, all is connected
Recommended is the drinking of it at eight ounces per daily usage
Medicines and milk and mangos all contain this wonderful substance
It is transparent, pure, refreshing, and very much liked and is needed
A dedicated ode to “the gloriously created and greatly used H2O
Playing tic tac toe with a triangular time bomb can be said to be a great idea for a triathlon of terrifically trained turnips whose expertise in the feats show a huge display of dedication, dietary dresses, and downright deserved dutiful distinguished drag. But a stage is not a stallion nor a stagnant shaped ship. But wait now and look over there and carefully study what is around. It is the fast fishes. Fast fishes fleeing flying fermented frogs. And the arrival of a little deck of cards is quite astounding really. For cards clap ecstatically exciting excellent extrasensory extraterrestrials eating evening electric eels. Oh great. Here is the glass beads chatting again. Clutter jingle. In a clatter. Of course in a clatter for clatter chatter is a seasoned dish of cubic carved corn smiling in weapon proof sunhats. Dare to dance the dance of delight with a dishcloth then. Good. Fantastic. Hahah the sea wheels are treading over an otter hut. Hahaha mangos balancing on top of a fifty acre sky scraper. Xxxxx psychologically z z z z 1 2 3 4 pea leap. Z
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