Ripest Poems | Examples

fossils

In a lattice-lit dorm room sits a writer.
A discarded chemistry book lies beside her.
because ideas are hitting off her, like a collider.

Why does writing make her feel alive-er?
Cause it helps sort out the feelings inside her?

Repose is something grinding-study denies her.

Now, rhyming isn't her primary desire
the connections form, almost, despite her
poetry’s at it best when it comes unaware
“Oh,” she thinks, like we’re going there?

What she writes might eventually be shared
with that awareness she vowels with care
picking words when they seem the ripest
shaping phrases like some sort of stylist
she may be less of a poet than a typist

Her default is to narrative - like you read in novels
cause let’s face it - cold-poetry is as dead as vaudeville,
as buried as silent movies, letters and opera,
have I come to dig up Caesar, like a fossil?
.
.
cold = straight up

Banana Split Sundae

Vanilla, milk, and sugar are so delicious together,
But I add slices of the ripest banana to be sure
This is truly a dessert better than any other.

Love Is Futile, Love Is Everything

I pull...tear my heartstrings
Rip and maul like a wild beast
Why, oh why do I do this 
Why does love never stay
I treat love so divine
I give the elusive goddess the sweetest creams
The ripest fruits and the clearest waters
All my longing is hers
All my songs and poems and sonnets
I write and write and write and yet it is futile
How much does this cruel goddess want
Aphrodite, I yell, 
Aphrodite, I scream
Aphrodite, I howl, I bark, and cry, and whisper, and croon

And I kneel and say,
Aphrodite

Strawberry Delight

A gent in a tailored suit, sat by me and said,
I saw the ripest strawberries, fruit of ruby red
poured over a dish of vanilla ice cream
I pinched myself, could this be a dream?
He shook his head and whispered "You are a pearl of a girl,
Would you care to dare come with me, for a swirl?"
The sun was blaring in my eyes and down upon us
I doffed my sun hat, a warm sultry day, no need to fuss
No use resisting such enticing fun
Lapping away and dripping on my tongue
We were lost in that dream, a delicious swoon
A strawberry delight made for two on a hot afternoon!


6/25/22

Red

attention seeking
valentine roses
scarlet cone flower
embarrassed faces
Santa Claus suit

strawberry wine
fire engine
sweet tomato
ripest melon

blood and guts
confidence
self esteem

jazzy
stop sign

red

Aged Like Wine

Years go by like a purple blur of time,
As when the ripest grapes are turned,
Into the most luscious and aged wine!
Then memory itself often comes calling,
In sweltering sunshine and in the rain,
Like roaming bluebirds' memories of home,
Or the sweet memories of the honeybee!
Seasons come and go so colorfully vivid,
Obeying a golden rule of sunshine cycles.
Hectic time goes by quickly like rainbows,
Like the short-lived beauty of a sunset,
Leaving deep impressions upon our hearts.
Marks like family or friends and laughter,
And sometimes like sorrows bittersweet.
Then tears are falling amid bright hued
Autumn leaves that swirl upon the wind!
Memory is alive forever, like aged time.

The Last Good Days of Innocence

I skip, 
like stones skimming on a lake-
The song that awakens
the ripest memories; 
how your eyes 
widen 
whilst your thumbs 
outline me.

The way your face falls,
huddled 
between my arms...
Or how you let your 
fingers blanket mine.
Your childlike grin when
 I treat your palette...
Or The way you radiate
 your warmth 
inside me,
Until the hair on my skin 
oozes 
beads of trickling sweat.
The way your skin 
wears your soul 
after claiming me in bed, 
Or the way you clean me up 
slowly, 
watching me 
drenched
in your soul’s sweetness.

You. 
Instances flash. 
Me, yours. 
Us:Impeccable scenes of a 
black and white movie.

I skip, I skip, I skip and I skip 
away from us: 
you.
I, grazing cautiously- 
the overly ripening memories.

Seven, ten maybe 
thirteen a charm,
But on days like these 
it’s only 
twice 
until the laden pebble
tumbles
Sinking into the 
sea of memories,
To more of you; 
my unfinished fantasies.

History claims us now...

Date: 30 April 2020
Title chosen: The Last Good Days Of Innocence 
Sponsor: Edward Ibeh

Paradise

Eden , a mindful thought to pacify one’s contemplation of
the perfect life with all of the ribbons and bows to achieve the feeling
of blissfulness.

With that in mind one’s perception of the other side of our realm becomes an extraordinary living quarter unlike any other.

Where is this paradise? Construct one to become one. 
One of your own inhabitance adding diverse images to accomplish a vision of wonderland and all exclusive vacations for future time

Set foot upon the soil which the fruit of the land will be
ripest and most tasteful. The sun will shine without scorching.
The rain will fall and nature will be the aspect of
a new dimension

Bits of Delicacies

night market! a juggle of flavors
succulent and citrusy with
pears  pumpkins  peaches inflamed
and clothed in sweetened rinds like
watercolors of  tangerine and mauve...
stems dipped in waters of tender sun
         flesh touching flesh,
         nectar glazing bronze on squirts turned into nectar, 
         into  savory brine... then to wiggle 
         upon a  harvest filling
quilted baskets sucked and chewed: beaded 
globules, bulbs rippling in own honeyed pools,
tangy fruitage which bears the ripest of ovules 
lacing the tongue ambrosial. tangy...
         and ladies like rush home with flushed romance
         in their heads
with  piles of delicacies bending  swirling 
on  their ample chests
to taste the liquid   radiant syrup 
of eve's craving for a night lovers' feast.


For Debbie Guzzi's Just A Little Bit Of Sugar
2/22/2017

The Mother of Imagination

Feel the wind,
 Feel the rain desend.
  Go on and close your eyes,
        Feel our Rebirth.
Feel as we tread the earth.

Open your eyes,
 See nature as it smiles.
   Breath in this tranquility,
      Can you sense earth's stability?
 
Nature is beauty at its purest,
 Listen as the crickets beat the drums.
    Watch as love is at its truest and ripest form.

This is where imagination is born,
It doesn't get anymore original.

Risen From the Foam

Honeysuckle blooms and between my teeth, I tease it
like nipples on a lover's chest, so sweet though milk
is long gone. Salt and sweet the breast, my tongue flits
amongst love's sweat. Her skin fluid as Chinese silk.  
Her juices flow; the ripest mango slit submits   
as tears fill the hollow of her throat. None are her ilk,
but I, Mars, know She who has rises from the foam. 
Worship her who causes worlds to writhe and moan.

Secret Garden

A secret world of mystical wonder
In solitude, she will sit and ponder
    Beneath a rainbow.  Behind a golden gate
No track of time or clocks to run you late
   Honest as the garden of Eden, a botanical kind of feast
No wickedness or sin, barbarians or beasts
   Daffodils and daisies flourish all year round
The rolling waves of a tide is the only sound
   Braids of ivy laced with sunflowers
Create a canopy to shield the showers
   A gentle mist flows through the air
Keeps the flowers moist , the utmost care
   Just enough sun rays peaking through
So the flowers can thrive and new ones accrue
   Rippling rivers, made of honey, caramel waterfalls
Muscadines and the ripest figs adorned the inner walls
    The roses bear no thorns, cotton candy clouds
Her presence so respected, the tulip gladly bows
   The aroma of peppermint fills her nose
Giant peaches grow in rows
   An entourage of ducklings follow her around
New and improved, they don't poo or make a sound
   Each step she lands on fresh pink petals
Bounteous pillows of silk for when she settles
   She arrives and leaves at the tapping of her heels
After all it's just a dream, the spinning of her wheels

The Apple Tree

My simple thoughts compounded leaves
The fruit of my labour I bear to thieves
The concentric circles in my bark at every stage
Hold me steady, firm as a rock of all ages

I’m a seed for juicy thoughts and jam
The flavour of refreshing drinks by the dam
Essential vitamins of B-complex and modest “C”
The forbidden fruit that made man truth see

Ripe for market stolen in a basket
Fell on Newton’s head made a target
Opened minds into laws of gravitation,
Medicine and whole new other dimensions

The lemon tree next to me made jealous
The orange tree didn’t make a fuss just citrus 
The pineapple tree flowing in the tropical air
The coconut tree made chocolate now that's flair

Kids playing in the branches as monkeys play
Climbing to the top for the ripest part of me
Teething fools they’ll have to grow up some day
I’ll take a tooth or two before they break me

An apple a day he twice, thrice had
Whether green, lime or red in my cool shade
If there was ever any doubt that it’s true
I guess the apple does fall far from the tree

Wheat Upon the Ground

Down where the Magnolia's blossoms
Open a creamy white
Modena touched sunrise wakes
Sleepy eyes, clouds take flight

Geese loudly honk a wake-up tune
Emphasized by Dove's coo
As the sunrise changes to pale pink
Against a sky so blue

Dew touches low growing wheat
In fields ripe for harvest
There the laborers are few
Wheat's touched by winds unharnessed

Winds blow in from the north, northeast
Put that wheat 'pon the ground
Ruined in this the ripest stage
Never more to be sound

Music of Life

In ripest quiet, shadows of sweet sounds:
Into my fancy's ear
Melting a burden dear,
How "Love doth know no fullness, nor no bounds."
John Keats

Music of Life
"Shadows of sweet sounds", I hear
Connecting memory from soul to ear

Your voice, old friend like
soothing wine, the whispering sea
the wind in pines

"Shadows of sweet sound", I hear
Morning birds I hold most dear

Desire's sighs, a poem's rhymes
The soothing sound of violins

O mystic music of life
sweet harmony of spheres

Suzanne Delaney

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