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Nadia Sep 2019
All hail children of the waning summer
Sour and prickly, soft and sweet
These sun-wild children wander free
Blackberry stains on callused feet

NCL September 2019
ALesiach Jul 2019
One golden August day
Walking along the narrow lane

With ice cream pail in hand
Over the lush woodsy land

Looking for brambles of blackberries
Thirsting for their sweet juice in my belly

And nature's kindness does bestow
Along the lane unhindered they grow

Blackberries hang swollen on their vines
The first one a sweet addictive wine

Soon forgotten are the thorns
Each berry its own delectable reward

ALesiach © 07/26/2019
The Indian black berries
Bitter sour, tad bit sweet
Humble fruit
Low in cost
Benefits high
Sold everywhere in the month of June

Bought it off from a vendor off the street
Especially sold these
Segregated in three baskets
Each priced as per the size, way too high from the market price
Quality not compromised

Does life treat you the same
Quality quantity, a few adjectives to name
Aspen Welsch Feb 2019
Stop looking at me
as if I’m some
- thing
to swallow up
or spit out.
A berry, black, swollen
ready to be chosen for your
consumption. I sour on your
tongue, assaulting your
taste buds because you
thought the only
- thing
that mattered was the purplish black,
the juice that produced for your
pleasure, my ripe, plump bumps,
my green hands
outstretched ready and there, for you?
Still you pluck and **** and stare
and **** me up with your
barren compliments stripping
my sweet substance
one by one
by one, you
extract it out
of me
gracie Sep 2018
Tell me the story of the fawn,
white-spotted, damp-eyed,
lying still on the roadside;
how the forest mourned for days,
twisting and churning its leaves
against the ashen sky.
Tell me the story of tragedy,
wind beneath the wings of Icarus
on his journey to the sun;
how he closed his eyes and smiled,
basking in freedom’s warmth
before plummeting back to earth.
Tell me the story of youth,
wild and tender, dancing barefoot
as though we were made of nothing
less than bruises and blackberry wine;
how I'd let love destroy me,
crashing the car
if it meant being in your arms.
Brandon Conway Sep 2018

Dog days of summer
How doth thou steal
Sweet blackberry plunder
How will I ever heal?

Cars passed fast
breeze swishes trees
As if spirits
Floating so free

A whisper they hiss
run faster than fastest
to grocery store produce bliss
give those blackberries
                                  a little kiss
a tree
I hank
here this
fallen arc
yet the
loop in
terry that
a singularity
present now
go to
New Mexico
and the
ennui divided
there with
scrambled eggs
and this
dark star
A star of the east
Jabin Jul 2018
Three meager blackberries
not quite formed,
plucked too soon from the vine.

Like us,
you were not quite ripe.

But your sister is with us now.
Maybe I'll meet you someday.
Brandon Conway Jun 2018
A sweltering run through the pastoral streets
Past the chemical plant and decrepit machinery
A couple miles trekked for nature's delicious treats
Incardine specks and black dots poke through thick greenery

Step over the ditch into the smokey mud
Stick your hand in carefully, the cost just a little blood

A blackberry picked from the protective thorn
is sweeter than one picked from the grocery store
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