the budding pear
wearing white clusters of pearls . . .
spring's fashionista
Spirits of the woodland deep.
Gather, please, at gate.
Shadow, dark fire, through me seep!
Hummingbirds can hate!
Where the prickly pear was grown?
Deep beneath a lake.
Where the angry god was thrown?
Someone made mistake...
There to build, O pyramid!
Tumble down the step.
Deterrence means getting rid?
Soldiers, step with pep.
Stars above the forest?
From heaven, do ye swing?
Harpsichords, harpy, ne'er rest.
Sight-line, foe to sing.
Awkward position? Well, done.
Servants of the One.
Oracle, scion, vision.
Blink and it's begun...
Whiplash? Sword, deliver slash?
If you've got the cash!
Otherwise be-fevered bash.
Dessicate the dash...
Crater, thy rim. Tyrant, whim.
Abysm to swim.
O dark chasm, lights a-dim?
Except moment grim...
in the
aged
pear tree
which has
several
dead
gray, peeling
limbs
a catbird
calls to
his mate
a nurturing
love affair
intense, passionate
his steadfast
love
for his mate~~
admirable
my pear tree’s petals
pearlescent in the sun . . .
the b l u s h i n g plum
I know I should not care
About the skinny ribs of a pear
But when you are eating one
And your tooth gets hurt, it is no fun.
I thought they did not have bones I said.
Who told you that? Asked my neighbor Red.
I had some before, and there was nothing hard inside.
Maybe they took the ribs out, suggested Mr. McBride.
Pendulum clock grandfather caramel pear
Pacified cogs set time tamper potential
Tranquil hands erase a thousand arousals
Blossom fuzz snow covers midday Summer thrum
Camembert cows graze daisy dot Milky Ways
20th September
Written for Contest:
Hypnogogic Dream
Sponsor: Suzette Richards
pear tree
scattered white blossoms....
middle of august
OH PEAR !
As aliens who come from out there
All our heads are the size of a pear
Most consider us sane
Despite a tiny brain
Attending a conference, we swear
The bucolic scene spread before her full white hair
That stupendous beauty whose silver did flair
Overlooking the planted fields, waiting for harvest
Youth, prodigious life in the past waiting to go the farthest
What is it that makes us what we are?
Is it the air, the wind or a pear.
We are only a part of life that we are produced in.
The production of life is in God's hand.
We take what God has given us and mold it into something great or something sad.
The time given to us is not a time to be sad but a time to be glad that we exist.
So what are we now you ask?
We are each our own person with a place in society with our own task.
We are what we eat so we are told.
Think about that for a minute and remember what you ate.
Remember our mind eats everything around us even when it is not food.
What are we now is it only a dream.
robins swoosh around
up and down the pear tree stands
gails blew pollen dusts
robins left the tree
fearing a storm will blow hard
the pear tree was sad
a new pair dropped by
finches revel with raindrops
pear tree smiled, birds soothed
I went to the orchard to pick a pear.
I picked another so I’d have a pair.
But now their skins I’d have to pare.
One was all I had gone there for
but soon I had a basket with four.
For room, I moved them to the fore.
It got late and I had quite the load.
The hens roosted and the cattle lowed.
As I was leaving, I hit the Mother lode!
Well, now I had enough pears to sell.
Maybe I could even have a pear sale
or send them overseas by para sail.
Okay, I’m finished with my tall tale.
Oh, and about your day, please do tell!
I’m outta here – I’m draggin’ my tail.
BAKED ALASKA GRINNED THROUGH THE SNOWY WINDOW,
CREPE-SUZETTE NICELY SAT ITSELF ON A FANCY PLATE BELOW,
NEW YORK CHEESECAKE WAS FIT AND STRAIGHT FROM QUEENS,
STICKY TOFFEE PUDDING CLUNG ITSELF WHATEVER THAT MEANS.
THE LADY CHEF WITH THE COOKING CAP WRESTLED WITH SPUN SUGAR,
WHICH WRAPPED ITSELF AROUND HER GENEROUS BOSOM THUS FAR;
ORANGE PUDDING WAS SET IN ITS WAYS, GELATINE HAD GOOD DAYS,
STRAWBERRY GATEAU EASED ITS WAY BETWEEN LIPS MOST WAYS.
IT WAS CLOSED ON A SUNDAE BUT OPEN AGAIN ON MONDAY,
YOU COULD SEE THE LADY WITH THE CAP CHASING PANCAKES AWAY,
THE CREAM IS BETTER HERE - NONE OF THAT SLOPPY THIN STUFF,
YOU KNEW AFTER ALL THE 'SLIP AND SLIDE' - YOU'D HAD ENOUGH.
CHOCOLATE RAN DOWN THE SIDE OF FRUIT, STAND AND STARE,
THE COATING WAS ENOUGH - I'VE ALWAYS LIKED A NICE PEAR.
You wouldn’t know he was A Good Drummer,
Until surfaced the Period of Summer;
You wouldn’t know: Giver of lion’s fight,
Until he felt challenges getting tight;
You wouldn’t know: loved Avocado Pear,
Until you grabbed his and this wouldn’t bear...
You wouldn’t know: could stay outside till mid-night,
Until there was some snake indoors, no light!
You wouldn’t know resents indulgent friend,
Until you saw him cross one and head bend;
You wouldn’t know: could use a liniment,
Until he had surfaced some punishment;
You won’t know: hopes to find his Charisma,
Until he naively like them with Plasma.
At all women was he looking with a leer,
So evident too true and clear
You can this verify from A seer…
Even at women no longer near
And ones their hating eyes could spear
All of them passing off as “His Dear”
Save one he’d reserved “My Deer”
And would eyes into her sear:
A knife neatly slitting a pear;
God’s Seventh Law denying fear:
His sharpest lust The Engaged Gear.
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