Unripe Poems | Examples

Where the Trees are Shellshocked

A strange autumn this, with its closed fisted,
hollow fruitfulness.

Ashen drapes shroud listless maples, a sky
reluctant to color its face.

A hostile pestilence has worn out
the pith of those who still survive.

War has beat itself upon our shores,
and the dragons of earth and sky
have allied themselves
to the hidden worms.
The unripe fall far too soon.

Unripe

There's a terrible smell in the kitchen
like rotting fruit
or a dead mouse
high and lonesome, eye-watering
thin and whispering, fuzzy with grief

Whenever I think I've located it
it goes into hiding

You can bleach the sink
and empty the bins
look under the table and behind
the cupboards, but
you won't find it any of those places

Beneath the Leaves

Beneath the warm sun, we wander
through the tangled branches
my grandfather's hands gentle,
like the tree itself, rooted and wise

He points to a ripe fig,
its skin a the color of a jewel.
I reach, as he coaches me
ripe and unripe

Conversation is exchanged
his grumbly Italian voice echos
like a simple song on the summer day

He tells stories under the shade, 
of times coming and going
and I listen, hands sticky with nectar
learning from his words

In this small act
the picking, the talking
we find a moment, fleeting and eternal, 
a harvest of memory and love

Besotted

When I compare my love to frozen vines,
repressed beneath the frost’s relentless grip,
while sweetness looms, I nary taste the wines
of love that lingers taunting me to sip.

My aching skin, akin to frozen grapes,
betrays the warmth your nectar must exude.
Though pressed by weight and time, still on I traipse,
a doom I meet, forbearing interlude.

I crave your taste, but yearning still haunts me.
Your ardour shines yet coldness stains its glow.
Your charm forbidden till a bride to be,
conserved in mem’ry neath the depth of snow

Besotted by a love that’s crystallized,
Unripe fruit, yet adored, and idolized.

Broken

*Broken* 


Emotions that breaks a heart
Feelings of deep caring
My desire for someone to talk to 
Loneliness to grieve
My suppressed pain
Oh! This temporal defilement
When my soul becomes merry
The days of happiness is past
The hour of sadness is now
This part hurt to know

This fruit of mine unripe
Taste sour yet enjoyed
Monsieur Lucifer at work
My feet singing tunes
To the lullaby of a foe
For years till date 
My chameleons hid her colours
Come, sit with me friend
Give ears to this fool's grief
My cries are not

This daughter of Eve brewing tales
I need my growth not waned 
Sadness that held up my tears
Aching for changes that sting
Devil's green snaky being
Desiring to have a taste to me
This life I loathe, detest
The days of heart games gone
As eagle flies in the sky
Shall aid my increase to bloom

Thanksgiving

Names, gestures, and words so oft are empty
In actions, we find a true meaning worthy to knife
To grow is to walk a serene valley you fill of plenty

Of hollow praise and false flattery, be weary
We shed the skins of our former, unripe life
Names, gestures, and words so oft are empty

Our wills are rivers, carving through stony indifference
Acts of love and words of kindness cut through strife
To grow is walking a serene valley you fill of plenty

Seeking truth in every course, holding every moment near
Learning to read the signs that speak beyond lies, run rife
Names, gestures, and words so oft are empty

Now, in this quest for meaning, stripped of all pretense,
So give thanks; awakened to join the dance found underlife
To grow is to walk a serene valley you fill of plenty

Become the silence of your actions, pure and steady,
Find yourselves, your souls, burning fate's own woodknife
Names, gestures, and words so oft are empty,
To grow is to walk a serene valley you fill of plenty

Green Palm Dates

summer has started
bunch of unripe green palm dates
soon shall yellow shine

Unripe

Down by the tempest
wild panacea grabs your attention
In places yet explored
with eyes half open
we gasp for air

I have heard your half hearted pray
But what is right ?
when the remedy is unrequited love
carry the weight of freedom
but be aware of the snakes 
in the grass

Ruin

PAIN, the raw blistered truth of the wrongfully made choice laid bare and exposed.
JEALOUSY, the corrosively selfish vanity-fed flame that burns impatiently for an unearned reward that is solely deserved. 
GREED, the insatiable festering itch to consume all in exchange for self entirely.
SHAME, an echoing shadow stamped upon a piece of time corroded by the consent of wickedness. 
DOUBT, the panicked teter upon the tight rope suspended between distrust and questions unanswered
HATRED, the tiny acidic drips of a vicious flame turning to ash every speck of happiness, wisdom, and love within its reach. 
FEAR, the all-consuming black sand stretching its way up your thigh stealing stealthily from you, your worth, your life.
SPITE, the unripe immature fervor that breastfeeds only petty rage, to strip you of your honor. 
ANXIETY, the quaking thoughts that fall into the cracks of bone and turn to rubble your skeletal frame
SELF DESTRUCTION, the inevitable dwelling place of the invaded mind.

Eat My Words

If you are hungry for words
then why not eat mine?

They are both sweet and sour,
desperate yet full of hope.

A raw wine is in them,
and the unripe fruit of my soul.

Bitter are they,
yet let them season, mull them
in a jar of awareness.

They may in time
enrich you, feed your being,

then, if you are kind,

return them to me,
that I might consume,
and taste a meaning,
only you may discern.

A Portrait of Love

for Corredo

Her round eyes are like singers and actors
sing songs and perform
her lashes and brows
raindrops of sadness
preventing it from penetrating the mind
her soft, straight nose is on a snowy highway
her ruddy cheeks are the color of frontier ocher
her lips are smooth as the peel of an unripe peach,
there is a feeling of swelling that is not painful
her hairs are "S"  to one side
                                other side, "I"  like a falling falls
without fear,
cover her shoulders
her shoulders, trained by swimming,
point toward the sky
her neck is neither thin nor thick
supporting her forehead
Above all
She has  all things about Love:
saying the riposte of
passionate and strong waves.

The Girl Child Is Gold

If you are reading this,
then you are special and capable.
You have the ability to make a change.
My sisters are being married off at a young age.
I don't understand!
Are we still in the stone age?
They are living at the knife edge.
Why are you suffocating them,
These young ladies are living in a cage.
They are becoming wives before they reach the right age.
For how long shall we keep on quiet as these old Madhala scramble for our unripe sisters?
For how long shall we act blind?
For how long shall we give a deaf ear?

LET US ALL UNITE AND PROTECT THE GIRL CHILD.

- Indigo -

                         ~ appreciate the feeling of the stillness
                             - and you will understand everything better ~
                                              my quote


                                        The color of indigo
                                     screwed into my blood
                           Mountain ranges and craggy cliff faces
                                     at the top God's pulpit

                                A beauty you wanted to own
                                    forget that right away
                               Leave the blue butterfly alone
                              I am grateful for having seen it

                          An unripe blueberry meadow, promise
                             two sisters that will eat in the fall
                             indigo crystals gather in the grass
                                   always play with full effort

The Right Season

Grain unripe, you should not reap 
or it may only come to waste, 
more so that you must have to wait
for the right one to make the pick. 

February 19, 2023

Squirrel

squirrel descends
crosses road, climbs tree....
bites unripe
               apple     

Written: December 01, 2022
Memory from summer tale from husband...

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