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Brumous Jun 15
I've lied
but don't we all?

As we grow,
a part of us dies.

Like an onion skin
layers of lies envelop me
They said that I've changed,
yet I don't know which way

I've played pretend,
tried masks and
eventually forgot
which one was
truly mine.
Who am I supposed to be?
sergiodib Apr 10
MANGO the kiNG Of exotic fruit.
Originally grown in MANGOlia.
PlantsMAN GOlden skin.

OrANGutan, noble creature,
more human than huMAN GHOsts.

Enjoys fandANGO but loves tANGO.
Member of a quANGO.
Tryina feel giggin while looking up liNGO.

Never won at biNGO.

MAN GOes the tree stays.
poeTREE
Daivik Mar 29
overarching newborn smiles
yellow sun on green leaves
greenish-yellow chrysoberyl
oasis of the summertime

the promise of a dozen flowers
to monkeys of golden branches
summer's sins would be redeemed
by salted raw mango slices

the albums of the memories
echoes of a simpler past
I'm crazily hung on its arms
and cuddling the longed leaves

the scent of summer mangoes
pulls us closer to the seed
when eye closes for a dream
for the emerald is like a magnet.

the rooftop of boyhood-life
shines among fallen leaves
the treasure hunt for another bite
with bees,and monkeys;crazy sunlit,

the stories of my old granny
emerge the flavored palette
within mother queen's dishes~
the golden salty slices

the taste of magnifera indica
connects the lands of our subcontinent
The secular religion of our nations
the lesson is not complicated,

the gift of Indian summer
wrapped among jade leaves
decadent whiff and scent,
loops me into time travel,
to youth, when all was well;

the last slice of the seasonal bite
portraits of unheard prattle
of mighty trunk and the poet
under the shades of nature's battle.
Cowritten with the amazing kbmw
Do check her page -
https://allpoetry.com/kbmw

Chrysoberyl is a greenish yellow gemstone
Daivik Mar 28
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
Chrysoberyl is a greenish yellow gemstone
Pots, pans and plates
Pots, pans

And the larder
A ghost house
Trembling

The larder
Stocked with oats and rice
Pots

And when it is time to cook
And then the gas stove is lit for
A feast

Pots, pans and plates
- Rows of jars line
The windowsill

Preserves, chutneys, jams
Preserves, chutneys
- and mango atchar

That reminds me
Of India
Oh! Lord Gandhi!
I sailed on a catamaran, and let the wind guide it
I didn’t push against the current but let destiny choose it
I let it choose its people, I let it choose its place
I let it choose its timing, I let it choose its race

First thing I know, we jump off the boat
We swim under sun set and let our bodies float
We put clay on our faces, now looking all white
We laugh about it and talk for a while

The sun is down, so we start heading back
All the sudden, thousands of stars are out
We jump off again, time goes in slow-mo
Water to the hips, I was given a mango

A mango so tender and sweet
It almost swept me off my feet
While sharing laughter and lifelong conversations
These travellers became my constellations

I sailed on a catamaran, and let the wind guide it
It left me with amazing friends and joy wrapped around it
This excruciating happiness was like an oracle
And little did I know, it was my mango miracle
This is set in Mexico, Bacalar, a "seven shades of blue" lagoon.
This poem describes the happiest I've felt, ever. The kind of happiness you feel to the core. It taught me that when you let go of the control you might impose on your life, it can take you such unexpected places where you get to explore new feelings. I call it my mango miracle because that day has, for so many reasons, made me more spiritual, more connected to nature and more in balance with myself.
Kelsey Banerjee Jun 2020
overcast
you sit
**** on mango skin
the juice on your chin
drips on
basil leaves,
your hands already wet
before the rain
we watch the yellow mountains
spring back to life
verdant, almost emerald
green foliage tender at the end of summer,
nourished by the dead roots
beneath softened soil.
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