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Peter Balkus Oct 2018
Let me be patient in Love,
like patient is olive tree,
waiting long years
to bear its first fruits,
and much, much longer,
before they are ready to pick.
sunprincess Sep 2018
One of my most favorite lines I've ever read
"Blessed are the peacemakers"

Peace is all we really ever need
Like sailing on an ark with water covering all the Earth

And then flying from the east a snow white dove

Carrying an olive branch to ease our minds and give us peace

A dove sent with God's message of love
peace be unto you
Salmabanu Hatim Sep 2018
As I sat at the kitchen table,
I saw my daughter- in- law fry an egg,
She discarded the egg yolk,
She was about to put it in the bin,
I took it from her.
Next my son returned from the supermarket,
He had bought olive oil for his pretty wife,
She was a freak on olive oil,
I asked for two tablespoons,
"Mum, what are you up to."
I smiled sweetly.
I had the Vaseline,
I need to put it on my hands and soles,
Honey is in plenty at home.
I steamed the Vaseline till it melted,
Took it off the heat,
Added other ingredients,
Meshed the mixture to a smooth paste,
My face mask for removing wrinkles was ready,
It worked,
Thanks Pinterest.
trf Jun 2018
Sittin' perched upon these trees
I'm an astronaut
In a valley where wings are free
takin' time to connect the dots
Smashing clocks who beckon me
the journey is the plot  

     I'm high
  but I can't decide,
    where the beginning meets the end
  or if they coincide,
    I'm alive,
  but I'm on the fence,
    I can't hide these scars
  from barb wired "friends"

get alone
Let's set the controls for the heart of the sun
be free
Let's mimic the path of the birds and the bees
Let's dance in the streets in our evening gowns
Rid the world of our demons and all its hate.
We are the people with ideas. Our ideas are not monetarily driven, obviously, however with them we can at least plant some seeds so in time, maybe, just maybe: they will make a difference. Plant seeds now, and if nurtured and adopted by the soil, they mature fantastically to be later savored. Please look out for each other. I love you.
Mrs Robota May 2018
We stood together quietly
Staring at the painting of a woman with olive eyes
I hear myself say I wish mine were as beautiful as hers
And find myself engulfed in light-blue skies
He says they’re darker…repeats the word
At times he pauses as if trying to find another word to describe my eyes
….but he doesn’t say it
I’m wondering does he want to say Beautiful
Or is it just that I want him to say beautiful
But he continues to smile as he says
And continues to get closer as he says
I wonder if this would be the part of a movie where the characters kissed
But this isn’t a movie
And I turn to walk past him
Across wooden floors
Towards anything else that catches my eyes
I can feel his stare
And the space between us feels
Charlie Gnarly Apr 2018
My Olive Beef comes from my grief
Up my feet and into my teeth
In my stomach is where is lies,
Until it resides, is when I die.
My analytical exploration into life and death.
aurora kastanias Nov 2017
November first, all saints
Celebrated canonised or not.
Recognition left as beauty
In the eye of the beholder.

For sinners accomplishing
Something worthy of holiness,
Something worthy of humanity,
Its nature, the Universe.

Compassion, aidance, honesty.
Truthfulness, chastity intended
In its purest sense. November first,
Olive picking day for me.

Harvesting season's yield
After the longest drought as I feel,
The warmth of an obstinate sun
Pierce skin through bones

To my very core. The same,
Beams granting abundance
Of golden juice to the gently
Reaped pearls of black and green.

From fingertips runs
An inundating sense
Of blessing, intrinsic unity
Of substance shared.

Only anticipating taste,
Fluidity slithering on tongue,
An exquisite elixir caressing
Palate as globules fall like rain

From branches onto
Sheets meticulously laid.
An event unknowing solitude
For it demands collective efforts,

While the distant village band
Plays hymns to the dead I praise
The living and their worth,
Waiting to imagine hundred

Kilograms render seventeen
Precious litres of ******
Olive oil. Chastity unfolding
In its purest form.
On olive picking
In Seville

My lock is like a wheel
that treasures the land
with strands of sand now an inroad to soul
in times of grain this platitude of health ahead of tides

the salt on shore implores unfinished deeds
as art deplores any nurturing of needs
with stars out this race beyond the chariot again

and proves that this orient has rightly won a gathering if seed roaring in a stream of catchment nigh
where these overtones are songs
and round about the fields along the Guadalquivir.
Sobriquet Sep 2016
Once when we were kids
Mum had fun throwing a dinner party.

I could tell because
there were stains on the tablecloth
but no one was crying,
and the food upgraded from sausage rolls to Sushi and Olives.

I want one-
-You can't, Mum  said they're for adults-
I want a Olives-
     said the back of my 4 year old sister as she went to try the
New Thing.

The Olive was carefully chosen and examined with 4 years of culinary expertise,
swirled around a gummy mouth and
promptly returned to its post.

It was yuck -
she informed me and her breathless twin from the safety of the veranda
after weaving her way through the adult legs strewn around the Good Lounge without even so much as a
'woe betide you child if you're in here again.'

So we sat and thought about parties and Good Lounges and woe betides
drinking juice,  
and watched our Uncle fill his plate with sushi and olives,
singing tonelessly to ABBA
before spilling his beer on the floor .
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