orange ball seems to play
hide and seek with trees and lake
sea green water snake
orange tree guarded the woman’s fantasies daily
She visited him often with her pony dog Bailey
sometimes they would drag along a yellow duck
He had a hoarse weird bark, that was no cluck.
The woman sat under orange tree and plotted fine.
Sometimes she wrote a page, other times a line.
Her giant yellow cat would play beside her with his mouse.
The rodent was purple, and lived inside their house.
Orange tree felt respected by these five.
They liked to frolic, play, joke, and dive.
under his shade, which made him feel special indeed.
He was grateful to the woman, for planting his seed.
Under the orange tree, the baby
in her woven basket boat, sailing
on the green-green grass.
Peeling the orange fruit, sibling
in a blue-teal dress. Juicy
orbs on the plentiful grass.
Toddler in christening dress, and
white cap. Bucolic blessings in
habitat. Repose, under orange oasis.
A day’s routine so easily holds me captive.
I confess to mindless, museless departures,
Brainless unpoetic habits so unreflective,
That I cannot dwell in momentary textures.
But January ripens oranges on my neighbor’s tree,
Marking spring’s beginning in California.
Midwestern groomed; such play awakens me.
Fat, lush oranges tumble all over the area.
Bold bright balls, they must be painted,
Landing in my drive, my car mashes them.
With this mortal crush, I breach life sacred.
Yet, once I eat one, it’s no longer a problem.
Tree of oranges brings fruit reviving passion.
Luscious harvest renewal of vibrant conception.
The concrete jungle shines and gleams
All around shiny glass beams
And amid this dusty shimmering sea
Stands a lone orange tree
The fragrant flowers silently blooms
Seeking the warmth from the sun that looms
The birds have left and stopped their calls
It is quiet, not a sound falls
The weary traveller sits beneath
Seeking the cool underneath
Touching the smooth, fragile bark
Dreaming of some sparrow or maybe a lark
Perhaps he dreams of a wasted love
Escaped like a frightened dove
Or some happy memory
That from him has become free
This gentle haven amid the fire
A place to commune and retire
And all around lovers came this vision to see
And feel the enchantment under the orange tree
25/11/2011
Round clutches of merriment,
And contemplative fumes,
Rattle the chiffonier of things past.
Off-white memories are shaken out,
Studied and delicately refolded for safe keeping.
In the distance, the hues of evening,
Drape gently across the castle walls,
And warm the clouds over the sea.
The breeze so close to show His face,
Something neither word nor man can capture.
To my starboard side, my golden glance,
My rose petals in a Grecian Urn,
My heart for her, given on the altar.
Ever closer our touch, ever stronger,
Our bond in this life, cast in off-white plaster.
Forgiven the herald of the Rock’s betrayal,
A rooster crows for awakening,
In the early evening, perched in an orange tree.
“Be awake in this life, and be grateful,
Or you may pass by those sweet fruits that grace golden toil.”