( ---)- (---) sunlit skin shimmers
- - (----) - flesh as fresh as morning dew~
seeds on my fingers
Poem (The bird in a cage)
Listen to my story of how I forgot
The days of freedom and nights
I would fly with open wings
And fellow birds through woods in sprite
Hither and thither, fluttering
Over gardens, mountain and trees
And listening to sweet songs
Of nearby birds, flying bees
Unfortunately those cruel trapped me
And wrapped my desires
And put me in prison
A cage of woods and wires
Currently I miss sweet voices
Of my fellow birds
That hurt me too
How can I express it in words?
Like prisoner my tears
Flow down as dew
And lost the freedom
Of nest and sky blue
How can I forget fruits?
And eating sunflowers seeds
And bringing cucumber, melon,
Wheat and grains for my breeds
In thousand pieces my heart is broken
By listening to their words
Compare my cries, sighs,
And tears with free fellow birds
Oh my GOD takes pity on me
And give me freedom from this cage
Otherwise I may die in these hard,
Sharp wires in this age
Shes always so exotic,
And sweetly pretty,
And kind,
Grateful,
For beauty,
Like an evening moon,
Her Beauty,
Salsas,
Like,.
a mango melon sunrise,
A mango melon sunrise,
A mango melon sunrise,
Shes always so sweetly pretty,
And exotic,
And kind,
Her beauty,
Like an exotic nightingale,
Her Beauty,
Salsas,
Like,
A mango melon sunrise,
A mango melon sunrise,
A mango melon sunrise
Reynaldo Casison
At the fruit stand, in a box,
Were melons that, to me,
Were unfamiliar, not the
Ones I’m likelier to see.
No cantaloupes? No honeydews?
The fruit guy shook his head,
But pointed to the box which held
The green-skinned ones instead.
They weren’t watermelons, so
I asked what they were named.
The fruit man and his partner spoke
(Not English) and exclaimed:
“They’re called the sweetest melons.
You should try them – 2 for 5.”
I bought one (for 3 bucks) in hopes
That fruit men don’t connive.
I found it very strange, though,
That the produce in the cart
Goes by names the fruit men cannot
To their customers impart.
i'm happy
to say
my dog
is fine
and so
is
your
breast
Their spreading out like thin veins,
Green pimples on dark red clay.
Some things you just love to hate,
Citra time is here.
crystalline melon
sliced into half by sky’s plate…
a breakable moon
©
Joe Maverick: haiku challenge
by nette onclaud
Melon milk soothes the ache in my throat,
I cannot scream, I am deaf,
It seems so surreal in a reality of nothing real.
Actually it seems more real than anything,
Anything I know of,
Graveyards of regrets and sorrows,
Tomorrow,
May not arrive.
A year ago, wow that did go fast
One of my dreams, did come true at last.
Up on that stage, it wasn't a game
Did I hear right, they just called my name?
Our Melon queen, her name was Heather
Now come parades, wtih all the weather.
Some would be cold, and some would be hot
No matter what, I would speak a lot.
The tears of joy, they ran down my face
It happened quick, I felt my heart race.
I looked at mom, then glanced at my dad
So filled with pride, the grins they both had.
Dad cleaned the float, and he packed the car
Knowing we had, to drive pretty far.
Rushing around, I'd hear my mom say
"Heather come on, we've got a long way".
Waking early, and pulling the float
I can't forget, my blanket and coat.
The wind and rain, could last quite a while
I'd always wave, and give them a smile.
The teas we had, the friends that I made
This whole past year, I would never trade.
Always helping, were my mom and dad
Giving it up, I feel quite sad.
There once was a hunter named Frawley
Who lived in a shack, outside Raleigh.
His dog, funny but true,
Would only hunt honeydew.
The dog was a true melon collie.