One day my brother and I walked the path to the Mango Tree
I was so happy to go see my friend the mango tree.
How ever my brother was not…
“What’s so great about a stupid ol’ mango tree it’s never done anything for me!”
“SHH!” I said scornfully “She has feelings too, and she has done much for you. She has given us her fruit to fill our bellies and shade for free.”
But my brother didn’t listen to me,
He stubbornly went and kicked the tree repeatedly.
And yelled “Mango Trees do NOT have feelings!”
The tree shook violently and out from under it’s leaves dropped a bright green mango SMACK right on my brothers head and he fell dead.
Another juicy plump mango dropped at my feet like the Mango Tree was thanking me.
I picked it up and sat beside my senseless brother by the Mango Tree while devouring my mango and enjoying the silent scenery.

i.
Jimi was procrastinating in the bedroom with Lizi; his performance anxiety had become unbearable.
He could tell she was trying to “******” him tonight. She didn’t wear a bra under her ratty t-shirt and
snuggled up against him when she climbed into bed, this was his queue to come after her. Hmmm,
does she think he’s so simple? At least Pavlov’s dog had the respect of his owner. So he lay on his stomach,
pretending he was asleep like he had done so many times before. After what seemed like an eternity, Lizi
sighed with disappointment and rolled over.  When Jimi dared open his eyes he glanced at the clock,  
2:17 am. His stomach felt hard as he choked back tears, there has to be more to life than this…
when could he stop pretending?

ii.
“Shhh it’s ok. You don’t need to talk about it.” He said, pressing her head against his chest.
That angered her. She did need to talk about it, and he was treating her like a child. She glanced
at the clock, he had already overstayed his available time.
“You need to go. It’s past 3.”
He sighed, “Yeah, you’re right. I’m sorry.”
“No problem. Can’t keep the wife waiting.”
“Please don’t be mad.”
“Hey, it’s my own ****** fault for getting involved with you.”
Jimi didn’t say anything. He never did when things got uncomfortable. Instead, he reached for
his coat and put on his shoes. “I’ll call you tomorrow morning, ok?”
Mango sat silently, staring out the window. No you won’t, she thought, and you’ll get busy
and forget to even ask me, because you don’t ******* really care.
He walked over and kissed her softly. “Bye honey.”
“Bye” she answered, not returning the kiss, or looking at his face. How could he bring up
this ****, and then leave her alone with all of her emotions?

iii.
There was really only one friend from college that Jimi trusted enough to talk about anything
of substance. But even so, he didn’t dare talk about Mango. He’d been telling her that he was
going to move out, but no one in his life knew there were even problems in the marriage. Lizi
didn’t know there were problems in the marriage. This was much bigger and more complicated
than he had imagined, and how long could Mango hold on?  He didn’t mean to **** her around,
but she cried more than she laughed these days….he really missed her laugh. When he and
Mango were together, his feelings for her were powerful, literally full of power. He had fallen in love with
her, more than he had ever loved anyone, or even knew he was capable of loving anyone. But the
pathway to her was terrifying and treacherous, and once on that path, there was no turning back.

iv.
“At this point music doesn’t comfort, poetry doesn’t comfort, my work does not comfort and you
do not comfort.  I don’t remember the last time I felt so empty and out of control of my life.”
The other end of the phone remained silent, every passing second bunching the muscles in her
back and neck as if her whole self was shriveling into a contorted form of a human being. “Jimi,
just face it—you lost me. You thought I’d be a cure for your boredom and dissatisfaction, but
you didn’t expect to fall in love with me. Okay, you love me. So what? So ******* what? You
aren’t going to leave your wife and I’m tired of being treated like your concubine.”
“Don’t give up, please don’t give up. Don’t you love me anymore?”
“Right now, I hate you. If I leave now, maybe the hate will fade and we can be some sort of friends.”
Nothing was heard but the faint sound of breathing for the next ten minutes.
“You know what Jimi? **** this whole **** game that you think is love and ******* too.”
and she hung up.

v.
“I know who you are.”
“Excuse me?”
“You are the woman who has been having an affair with my husband.”
Mango looked up from her register. Large round hazel eyes bore through her, burning with anger
and refusing to cry. An enormous scarlet letter “A” seemed to be melting into her skin. They stood
there, sizing each other up, Mango could feel her lip begin to quiver.
“I can see why he wanted you, you look nothing like me.”
Side by side it was true. One woman refined, statuesque, well bred. The other thrift store coordinated,
pierced lip and pigtails.
Mango tried to think of what to say “I’m sorry. It’s over, I ended it over a year ago.” was all she
could come up with. How do you say I’m sorry for intruding on the bond between a husband and wife?
How do you say I’m sorry for something that can never be undone and has forever seared pain
onto the heart of another woman?
They stared at each other for a full minute, neither willing to break the gaze. Finally, Lizi sighed and
began to walk away.
“Lizi…” She turned back to look at Mango one last time, “He didn’t make me happy either.”

you can only eat each mango once
so i go tree to tree picking the best looking mangos i could find
one day i hope to sprout a tree of my own when i find the perfect mango

many of these mangos are sweet
for that reason none of them stand out
i find a mango that has fallen from its tree
it has been bruised and hidden from the sun
this mango is too tough to slice
i approach it differently
this mango is just as sweet as the others
but i like it because it's tad bitter
maybe it's bitter because it's just as sweet
just not as pretty

i like this mango
i want to plant it
but it might be too soon
too soon to grow that seed
so i'll throw this one mango away
not because i don't like it
because i found it too soon

Mango. A mango.
Mm, I love the taste.
There's nothing better than when the juice runs down my face.
Mango, sweet mango.
Better than baby ruth.
I love me some mango, to satisfy my sweet tooth.

O MY LOVE, COME WITH ME,
LET’S CLIMB THE MANGO TREE,
ITS GOLDEN FRUITS ARE RIPE,
FULL OF SWEET MEMORY,
LET ME LIFT YOU GENTLY,
TILL YOUR HANDS GET A HOLD,
THIS WARM ZEPHYR HAS MADE ME,
SO STRONG AND SO BOLD,
LET US CLIMB WITHOUT SCRATCHING
YOUR FLAWLESS IVORY SKIN,
MY LOVE WILL GUIDE YOU THROUGH
BRANCHES THICK AND THIN,
YOUR RAVEN HAIR CASCADING ON
TO YOUR NECK SO SLENDER,
SHINY NEW LEAVES OF THE MANGO,
SO DELICATE, AND SO TENDER,
SIT CLOSE TO ME ON A LOFTY BRANCH
TO HEAR THE SOULFUL KOEL SING,
LET'S SWAY WITH THE BREEZE
LIKE SOULS ON A SILKEN STRING,
MY HEAD ON YOUR SHOULDER
YOUR LOVELY FACE SO CLOSE,
SUN BEAMS DANCE ON YOUR LASHES
MY PRECIOUS VELVET ROSE,
YOUR FRAIL HANDS ENCIRCLE ME
LIKE CREEPERS HUGGING THE BOUGH,
YOUR WARM EMBRACE ENTHRALLS ME
TO KISS YOUR SHAPELY BROW,
YOUR SWEET FRAGRANCE INTOXICATES
AND AMONG THE CLOUDS I FLOAT,
LIKE A BUTTERFLY EMERGING FROM
A CATERPILLAR’S UGLY COAT,
WE SIT THERE FOR A LONG TIME
SUSPENDED IN SPACE,
I AM BUT A CONTENT SLAVE
TO YOUR HEAVENLY GRACE
LET MY LIPS LINGER ON
YOUR SOFT PETALS SOME MORE,
TILL I ETCH IN MY MIND,
EVERY BIT OF YOU TO THE CORE,
OH MANGO TREE WE NESTLE
IN YOUR MASSIVE ARMS,
LOST IN THE MYRIAD MISTS
OF ONE ANOTHERS CHARMS,
WHEN OUR YEARS ARE GONE ONE DAY
WHEN WE ARE AGED AND SPENT,
UNDER THIS GREAT MANGO TREE,
WE SHALL PITCH OUR FINAL TENT,
UNDER ITS VAST CANOPY WE SHALL LIE
LOOKING AT THE STARS,
OUR BONY FINGERS ACHING YET
TENDING TO OUR SCARS,
MY MIND’S EYE SEES YOUR WRINKLED FACE
SMOOTH WITH AN INNER GLOW,
SOFT AND BEAUTIFUL AS EVER IT WAS,
AND YOUR LOVELY DARK HAIR FLOW
YOUR FLESH AGAINST MINE
FEELS JUST AS YOUNG AND WARM,
OUR HEART BEATS MERGE
LIKE BEES FLYING IN THE SWARM
COLD TOMBS ARE NOT FOR US
NEITHER MARBLE NOR GRANITE,
UNDER THE LIVING MANGO TREE
FOREVER WE SHALL UNITE
OH MY LOVE, COME WITH ME,
LET’S CLIMB THE MANGO TREE,
YOU ARE LIKE ITS GOLDEN FRUIT,
AND FOREVER YOU WILL BE.

The overripe mango that sits promptly on my desk stares at me through its one eye, indignantly asking to be eaten – before it goes bad.
I consider, strongly, the mango’s proposition.
Contemplating the level of hunger, or desire I have for this demanding piece of fruit.
It may be that the latte I just finished burnt off any remaining taste buds I have, or it may be that I find
something amusing about holding a mango hostage of its pride – but I just can’t eat it.
A once firm, confident specimen edging ever closer to becoming a wrinkly, seeping, sack of rotten juice.
Knowingly, I chain it to its fate by refusing to slice the skin back and swallow its sweetness.
It demands to be mutilated rather than aged.
As I sit here writing of my hostage, it continues to stare through its eye – spiting me.
Cursing me with future putrid fruit, with worms in my apples, and with brown bananas.
Oh, how I hate brown bananas.
This mango has learnt well in the time it’s spent in my room, it knows my weaknesses.
I always knew that fruit had character, but this mango – I tell you, it’s something else.

On a hot hot day
nothing better than
sweet sticky rice coconut
milk a big ripe mango

That, I felt, was what the fly thought
he touched down onto my mango,
it was so sweet, pouring
saccharine sweat
ripe slabs of yellow smorgasborg
endless pleasure of sugar mango flesh
it seemed good to the fly

Across the water,
pressing over the mountains,
opaque threads of rain, like
slim tornadoes twisting ash into the clouds
moved this way
things never looked good for the fly

He ate nonstop, boozed up on mango
an unlimited supply of yellow stuff
he gained weight by the second
there was no point in stopping

the more juice the mango sweat
the stickier its meat
the more mango the drunk fly ate,
the further he sank into its flesh
he was stuck, flailed his stupid legs
in the air as if more flies coming
would rather help him than eat
juicy golden mango feast

he died there, I think
the monsoon would make sure of it
I tossed the mango, sticky rice
the styrofoam plate
thinking it spoiled, fearing the rain

It takes me back
It pulls me close
To itself, I cannot leave
ln my dreams
While I dose
The summer scent of mango tree

I remember well
When we were young
My friend and I hung on its arms,
Cuddling the leaves.
Now remain
Just memories, echoes of a simpler past

The flowers promised
June was close
Summer's sins would be redeemed
By the childhood paradise
Salted raw mango slice

Overarching newborn smiles
Yellow sun on green leaves
Greenish-yellow chrysoberyl
Oasis of the summertime

I remember picking them up
From the rooftop of boyhood-life
Our winged friends came, bees, monkeys too
Attempting another bite

Fond, fond memories
Mother used to cut and bring us mangoes
While I tasted the golden slice
My granny told me stories of
The tree, it stood there when they built this house
When she was eight or nine

This fruit, this taste
Connects this land
Magnifera indica
The secular deity of the mango nation
You cannot begin to understand

The gift of Indian summer
My childhood wrapped in emerald leaves
The whiff, the scent, I transcend
Time;go to an age when all was well
Or at the least, to me it seemed

As I'm taking a bite of this season's last mango
As the golden drops stick to my pubescent stache
I remember a conversation I had

The mango tree
It talked to me
No, I'm not crazy
It was the mango tree

Little things in life
Leave something
Oh!so many memories

We sit beneath the mango tree
You say, “I’ve got to go one day, you see…”
I nod and smile for that’s far away…
And I know deep down you really want to stay
So we talk and learn about our lives
Blaze right past all the normal lies
I say, “I think I’m gonna miss you some…”
You laugh and say, “God, you’re young.”
If I’d known then how this was going to go
There were more things I would have let you know
Like that time we sat under the mango tree
And my heart stopped when you first kissed me...

While you were packing up your little home
I was sitting, waiting by the phone
Wondering where I’d gone so wrong
Wishing your determinations weren’t so strong…
The weeks crawl by and you don’t call
I take the frustration out on my bedroom wall
We both knew that this had to end
But for that short time it was awfully nice to pretend
So we meet under the mango tree
I stare at you, and you stare back at me
You say, “You knew I had to go one day.”
I mutter back, “Then I guess there’s nothing more to say.”

Then like a tragedy I left you there
Unable to hold your penetrating stare
There were more things that we both should’ve said
But it seems we took the easy road instead
The road whose paths would never have to cross
So we’d never have to think about what we have lost
But sometimes I still pass that mango tree
And remember how you used to look at me,
Smile about those shining, sapphire eyes,
Marvel at the tree’s growing size,
Laugh about the brief time we shared
And pack away the memories with care

Under the mango tree lies a soul sweet and sour
Under the mango tree grows new born strength
Stories will be told to generations at the night hours
The mango tree grows with her energy running through it
For those who first knew her , will tell you she was fierce
The center of attention and everyone’s friend  
The mango trees leaves will fall and grow again
There will be rainy days
There will be sunny days
But under the mango tree there’s a light that will never burn out  
I know she’s gone but I know she’s always here
whenever I’m upset I’ll remember her words clear
“If there’s nothing you can do about it , find something you can do about it”
Ironic mangos , ******* the outside , soft on the inside


Under the mango tree lies a mother a daughter a sister , my godmother💚 I love you

Lawrence Hall HSG
Mhall46184@aol.com

                      Someday I Hope to Meet a Mango Tree

                             For Pradip Chattopadhyay

Someday I hope to meet a mango tree
And sit at its feet to learn wisdom from Buddha
And if Buddha is not there, then I’ll learn from him
That the absence of teaching is a teaching itself

Someday I hope to meet a mango tree
Where lovers stroll beneath its gentle shade
And if lovers are not there, then I’ll learn from them
That the absence of love presupposes love

Someday I hope to meet a mango tree
Maybe in Veluvana in holy India
But if I never make that pilgrimage I’ll learn
That the magic of the mango is real

Someday I hope to meet a mango tree
Where surely I will find both teaching and love


Pradip Chattopadhyay - Hello Poetry

Symbolism of Mango Grove at Veluvana in Buddhism - Silent Balance

Mangoes: The True Caribbean Currency (caribjournal.com)