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Meg Howell Mar 2018
A sour cherry,
The juice of a berry,
A broken canary,
A lullaby

Snow covered trees,
The nest of honeybees,
A cat with fleas,
A scene

Hands interlocked,
Traditional love mocked,
Insecurities docked,
A dream
Richard Grahn Oct 2017
This is the place where
The bear went through the berries
Grandma always said

Grandpa caught a fish this long
So he hung it by the bed
A  memory of my grandparents who were avid outdoors people. It  is with them that my love for nature found its roots.
Poetic T Aug 2017
In the bleakest sorrows,
you bring graceful elegance.

Maroon feathers catching upon
vacant scenery, stilled by seasons.

Rowan do your eyes attended to,
feasting on luscious  berries.

A wonderer of the skies dancing upon
flurries looking for your next meal.
Jim Davis Apr 2017
Fine spring beauty day
Seeking the agarita
Berries all must grab

©  2017 Jim Davis
From the web site wildedibletexas
"When agarita berries are ripe, they can be plucked from the bush and eaten raw though the tender-fingered should beware."

Actually, I had seen red berries in an agarita bush, I started plucking them, and ate a handful quickly as I have done in past years.  I was thinking to myself, these don't taste like I remember.  Then I discovered there was another plant growing amongst the agarita.   After a quick search on the web, I found out Nandina berries, while toxic to birds and other, are considered non-toxic to man.  

"The berries of the nandina plant contain hydrocyanic acid and are poisonous. They are toxic to cats, dogs and other grazing animals, and they can cause animals to experience seizures, comas, respiratory failure and death. They are considered nontoxic to humans but may cause stomach pain if ingested."

Thankfully, I lived! Moral: the stupid,  in addition to the tender-fingered, should also beware!
Rachel Monica Aug 2016
The hot sun looked like rain on my skin
Pooling on my skin
Each step was one closer to the end
I did not know you were waiting for me
But you waited patiently

I carried my bag in the same way
That I carried my sins
Looking so forward to laying them down
for at least a little while
But I walk on, holding tightly
To all I had

But I reached you, stopping my steps
Separated by black bars twice your height
You looked at me with bright blue eyes
And a silent mouth
Holding out a bowl of blueberries

Not only is the sun rain on my skin
But rain sprinkles from my eyes
How can someone so small
Someone who does not understand me
Love me so well

You and your sister
You gave berries but took my heart
Never can I forget those small hands
Nor those glowing eyes
Or the taste of your sweet blueberries
There once was a mage named Stella
Who looked just like Cinderella;
She sang with the faeries
And ate lots of berries
Till she was big as a fella!
Alisha Isabell Jan 2016
In the painfully sweet hours
When the child is no longer a part
Of the mother,
But one of his own.
From outside,
It was quiet.
The leaves piled on underground pathways.
Birds sliding from tree branches, escaping the thick green leaves
To swoop up and kiss the sky.
The outside was beautiful.
But the nervous taps
Of the father's leg on the hospital floor,
The tears of the woman,
Her strength,
It was beautiful as well.
Your innocence floods from your heart,
Its precious,
The way you pick
At the rocks in the snow,
The way you
Begin to cry because the colds bites you.
Do not worry,
It cannot steal your warmth.

I see you take the neighbors flowers,
They are a dull red against your eyes.
When you drop them,
You smile
Because you see the pollen
On your fingers.
I know it's hard at times,
When the leaves are no longer
Filled with tiny lady bugs and rich memories.
I apologize,
For those days
When you felt in your bones you had to
Crash down your home;
A small bed of grass
And walls of thin sticks
Just couldn't stay up any longer.
Yet those trees you cut down
Can still grow fruit,
Ripe and full.

I promise.
I see the bushes out front,
Berries once so ripe,
Now shriveled and dry.
You're no longer sifting through them.
I'm sorry,
You know.
For the men that hurt you,
*I hope you can one day find warmth in the sun,
As it soaks into your skin.
E Townsend Sep 2015
Against the perimeter of my childhood backyard
cluttered rows of privet hedges produced
tiny ruby berries, easily crushed if stepped on.
They always fell from the branches
in the slightest trail of wind.

Cougars prowled my playground.
My parents, hesitant to let me out alone,
planted the bushes
in the hopes the cougars would
eat the Ligustrum ovalifolium and never return.

I knew the berries were toxic
and could make me ***** more than what I consumed,
a time bomb in my stomach.
Mother said the poison could make
me shiver harder than a winter day.

When, once, I raised a berry to my lips
Mother plunged forward
and slapped it out of my fingers,
a strange mixture of anger and concern in her eyes.
I was never to pick one again.

I didn’t understand the problem
until I saw two cougars laying behind a privet—
a mama and her cub
no longer breathing in sync.
Kerri Jul 2015
The sweet, toxic smell of her perfume
like poisonous berries
seeps through my veins,
saturates my heart,
and floats in my memory,
like that last sip of wine
before the haze.
Rocking my inner being
and tickling my carnal sensations,
until my body is as awake
as my soul is.
Cradled in her lingering scent
until it wafts away as she does,
leaving me lifeless on the floor.
kris evans May 2015
LIFE is a bunch of berries......
some sweet...some sour.....
some  crushed....some pitted....
some pearly black.....
lets gather them up......
for life looks great when served together.....
life offers variety
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