Short Bushel Poems

IN THE AUTUMN COLD

in the autumn cold
while all the pinks are drooping
three white roses thrive

may i present
a straw filled bushel basket
with napping kitten...

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Bushel Or Peck
By: Tom Wright

Life can be either a bushel,
or a peck,
And our choices,
or those made on our behalf,
make it what it is. 
...

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.


                     keeper of the field
                             guarding ten thousand bushel
                                                   defending harvest





....

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Apple Worm

Golden Delicious, Red Delicious, Empire, Fuji, Gravenstein, apples

They say an apple a day keeps the Doctor away

But 

One worm can destroy a whole bushel of good apples


By: Eve Roper 12/18/2015...

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I'm  being followed by an apple
I feel like I've been picked
I wonder if it rolls on by
I'll have a bushel wit

I try to say it isn't me
who sees it as it falls
For me; I'm certain love is me
and gravity can't call

So on I go remembering when
I saw it light the way
And say this apple isn't me
and kick it where it lay...

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Caravan

You don’t pick radishes. 
You pull radishes, bent over
Workin’ backwards, ten hours. 

Rubber band ‘em by the dozen
Bushel full, boss pays eight bits. 
Twenty bushel good day. 
Band 99 cents at the Kroger.

Make it to America, land 
Of opportunity. Walk for 
Your children, pull for your
Grandchildren. 

Copyright 2018 Paul M Thomson...

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showers of castanets 
on a tin roof
a stop-over for the night 
        on the longest hike

a bushel of owls 
in each drip of rain 
   aftershocks of mice nibbling through
the wires of a sleepless mind

listening 
through ear shaped microphones

pigeons scrabble overhead
       then clatter as they take off

the rain softens toward dawn
to a ten second splish
       
        time to move on...

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Post-term pregnancy perturb my health, 
For to put to bed, in this place, is sacrilege. 
The king has made ready his swords
For the neck of him, who dare to birth.
Known truth is a pregnancy, seeking escape

Into the world of obscurity. 
Truth like the light detained under bushel
Is seeking manifestation, to make man free
From the yoke of the cruel slave lords.
The man suffers, that hoards the truth....

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Weirdest mushroom couples met in the park.
One of the men began to howl, whistle and bark.
His wife who was taller said “Wait a second! Hark!”
The other couple thought they were joking, suspected a lark.

Tourist husband with a camera around his neck.
Said to his wife “that other wife’s hair is a wreck.”
The wife said to her husband “it’s worth a bushel and a peck.”
The other couple heard but said “what the heck.”...

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Fall is coming its time for the change

Winter follows but its still out of range

Leaves come down in their natural spiral

Pick apples and pumpkins by the bushel

Halloween is the time to change your face

Thanksgiving is a holiday to show gratitude in your grace

Enjoy a hayride in so many ways

Test your skill in the corn maze

Watch the foliage turn color before your eyes

Enjoy the cool weather it’s a sweet Autumn surprise...

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This poem is not written by me. It is written by a 12 year old 
student who has writers in her family. I'm just the teacher.

Recipe

Start by pouring a pound of Netflix in a bowl
Add a sprinkle of marshmallows
Place one phone into the bowl
Please note, the phone must have Snapchat
Stir slowly

In another bowl
Mix a bushel of homework
Let that sit and rise
Drizzle chores on top
Stir cautiously

Mix together roughly
On a cookie sheet
place down one screwed child...

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A tin rain ticks between
the scrabble of pigeon claws.
Time drips off a shingled edge.
In moments you can land years behind
as just the shrunken rolling head
of a whole decade.
Eyes open, you watch,
a bushel of owls hooting
as aftershocks shake
a crumbling roof -
one you are no longer under.
Listening as if on a phone,
sliding into the woe-be-gone,
you are now,
back in the backyard of nowhere.
Pigeon wings clatter,
a rain softens,
to a slow
measured splattering....

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The light of the world is hidden under bushel baskets of snarky stuff
I cannot uncover it by myself, so I need your help, I tell the masses.
The light of the world is already here, we recognize it, some reply.
I beg to differ, I reply. 

I beg to differ a lot.
Begging to differ is what I do best.
I am pretty good at it.
I have the gift of persuasion also.

I could form my own cult.
My followers would be many.
But I am not ready for that.
I beg to differ, many tell me....

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Clockwork

	Tic, Toc,
	Tic, Toc,
Around the clock,

	What’s time 
but a constraint,
        In all the bushel 
it is all yet quite faint,

	You go through life 
doing something you love,
        Transforming It 
into a beautiful dove,
	
	It is what 
you do with It,
        Do It in spite 
just to be merely bull—shit

	So can you 
tell me your timeline
        Well I don’t 
even know mine . . . . .
	
	Tic, Toc,
	Tic, Toc,
Around the clock.

Travis “Ceijaeh” Klein...

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