Short Seedless Poems

tunnels of silence
abandoned decayed
naked grain of
love
splendour of roots
purple grapes
seedless
turquoise green
abundance
of hope...

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she still has a stall
at the local market
she's the archetypal
structure of a
farmer's
daughter

she has the best
watermelons
in town
seedless
no less 
i love

to test
their
ripe
ness...

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Watermelon - A Tanka Poem

Sweet watermelon
You're cool and sweet and moist.
You are so smooth round
And a red fruit, furthermore
So seedless; I love ta eat

7/16/20
written words by James Edward Lee Sr.© 2020...

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seek above seedless sky
rains down in loamy
soil there to lie

rise up eyes up
homage to the sun
life anew morning dew
to buds that grew
the spring has sprung

now then once again
old friend comes then
welcome to the one...

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TREAT ME LIKE A HUMAN
Flowers can be pink
Flowers can be white
Light or heavy that does not change their hearts
They result in fruits which may have seeds or be seedless
Fruition is the best of it all
The fact that inner qualities matter cannot be denied

Shows that as humans
dark o fair
Tall or short
we are all humans 
and need to be treated as such...

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Through a distant awareness
all eyes unmasked
The answers vacant
and fading fast

The horizon changes
from front to back
All reasons caught
within its trap

Time despondent
its seconds tear
Whose reign dethroned
inception near

The weight uprooted  
a seedless fruit
The past, tomorrow
—and present moot

(Bryn Mawr, Pennsylvania: November, 2022)...

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I am giving tomorrow up
in this day of end
wrap me in your world
Where inside
raindrops,
falling heroes
target skin
and with pin pricks
of cold
announce their arrival
Ambush beating eyelashes
and carry their assault
past cheek and chin
Shivers spine the chill
Greyed out clouds
Stretched  out  tendrils as  if          t  o
Catch its falling children...

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It was a fast 
against truth, in support
of unbidden body
which took the history lesson.

A star is born 
out of midnight accident.
Darkness deems dark
in siege of self-restraint.

An embattled self
seeks a counting. The money
speaks in absence, to clear
the debt of tears.

No longer
the eyes will look at
the marriage of trans-blue veins
in legs of seedless dreams.


Satish Verma...

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Delicious fruit so small and sweet
Of red, purple and light green
Seedless, seeded on the vine
Some are for eating 
Others just for wine
Chill them add them 
To an iced drink
Make sure you 
Wash them well
In the kitchen sink
Juice them squish them
Eat them raw
Cut them up
Serve them in
Cold fruit slaw
What a gift
Of sweet candy
I just think 
Grapes are just dandy...

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Some white seedless grapes have been left on the vine.
They have a nice sweet taste that is really fine.
Each one of them has been given the kiss of sunshine.
I like to have handy little boxes of them each day.
See them dancing to the music of the late Marvin Gaye?
To many folks, those little cuties taste fine and dandy.
No wonder they are often called “nature’s candy”!
...

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Scrape, bye ; The Calendar 
ticks with no inky point,
segments broken into
whatever minuet, or waggle
and slithers of whats left for you.
You can gaze through, 
honey coombes yellow
along a long one way troop 
of seedless sunflowers,
their low heads hung,
corroded and long Bee,d.
Winter in broken boxes
spilt, blind, even,
warm to strangers
Spring a season of
Infinite meaning, 
Based, on nothing
but the viewpoint of a Bee.

13/7/21...

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she shakes
like a
plate of lemon
jello
a mistake
made by
so many poets
fancying
their muse
to be a belly
dancer

my muse
she's solid
from toe
to head
a nubile
nubian
amazonian
beauty
a tree bearing
such
fruits

firm mango
breasts
turned up
budding
cherry nipples
bearing pear
shaped hips
under her
fig leaf
hides
a seedless

fig
so 
i don't
dare 
to have
to eat
a peach
so shaking
her to see
what might
fall out

just nuts...

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The screecher of the cemetery:
You fly in between the headstones
And hide away in the bell tower
When the dawn comes.
You know the names of all who are dead—
At night, you call to them softly,
And seek out new arrivals for you to bless.
Out of your own sacrifice, you leave them gifts:
A pine cone or a dandelion or two—
A little something for good luck.
The next day, when you return,
All that will be left will be the seedless stalk
Of the dandelion you gave away....

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The Sahara's flaring moon
weaves sand castles in hombre dusk,
jacquard ridges unraveling down burlap slopes.

Under taupe sky a balmy loom 
spins dust into tawny gold for a sultan sun,
eroding an oasis to sate his rapture
with effete wealth tatted in the shadows
cast by white peacock clouds
floating above seedless dunes
once shimmering with emerald palms
and sapphire waters.

Unseen hands of a sightless pearl
now craft his exfoliated sheikdom
from the dry scraps of Eden....

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