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J Dec 2020
arms outstretched,
I reach for the stars
I was always told to want
only to find that I'm
tracing myself against
murky, illegal water
in pink nectar.
I'm too rough
nerves get the best and I
dip down ever so slightly
not bothering to take a breath.
as I slip under the fruity grip
the lake of liquid freedom
clouds my vision.
a calm, calloused hand
hardened from time
from life
from love
cups my cheeks and
breathes into me
with her
petal lips
sticky against mine
a reminder.
I float back up
before I get a good taste
I twist and turn against the current
against the surface
Solidago and Indian Mallow
smeared across the sky
reflecting against me
until I'm nothing
but the fuzz
of a peach
i love when women
Carl Miller Aug 2020
Nothing warms My heart more than a summer peach
Sweeter than honey and softer than cashmere
Summer sunflowers to brighten up the old oak shade
Tranquil drawl in a sing-song voice, a lullaby to my ear
You know You love someone when it makes Your heart happy to write a poem about them. I hope You enjoy this one as much as I do.
Tenant Aug 2020
Kingdom- Plantae
Symbolism-softness, tenderness, but grounding in reality- foreboding my fantasy.

Used in prose:  peaches, with her plumpness, with her skin pressed against mine, seperated only by my budding insecurity. When will you go, will I be fine?
    If you are a peach, dangling from a tree, and I am only, A flower or the leaves. When will you drop? When will you plummet and with it, I wither and decay.
   If only I were a willow tree, no ornament linked, or if you could be plucked early, before sour becomes sweet?
tia Apr 2020
multiple weighty peach trees
outlined grief's path
lanceolate, broad, and pinnately veined
leaves cornered my view
of the clashing realities between faint rays
and the celestial dome

my sweet cries and pleads set into the sky
the atmospheric refraction
distorts all that is left of her being
an astronomical twilight will pass
and the dusk will swallow her wavelength

wandering into a new medium
surpassing the earth
and as the sweet color of peaches decomposes
becoming simple matter over time
her sun has set and mine will follow shortly
i dislike the ending line

i've never experienced death, but it certainly feels like your world is ending. i wanted to convey death in a different way and I like sunsets and peaches
so here we have this poem
I do rather like it, but it's not perfect :)
How the career
Of so many
Tell their own
Carry their own
Hold magic in
Chosen over
Telling me stories
Maleficent 2
ALesiach Jul 2019
Warm days
Heavy nights
Mosquito bites

Dancing bees
Delicious honey
Sweet tea,
Yummy, yummy

Swimming pools
Shade trees
Staying cool
Ice cream

Summer showers
Juicy peaches
Budding flowers
Warm beaches

Vacation's over
School begins
Time's slower
Summer ends

ALesiach © 8/2016
no truth login Jun 2019
life choices cast in iron skillets,
presented choices that possess no flexibility

twice, she asks me today

morning fruitage, on offer,
peaches ripe to rip real sweet perfection
from your eyes to the remembering salivating mouth,
sweet but just **** enough
strawberries that will wince your tongue buds
intolerant of either, but perfect together

acorn squash,
over roasted to be the violin section
to your barbecued chicken orchestra serenading,
but which shall be the sweetener,
honey or maple syrup,
similar but different

the kitchen floor explosive shakes,
pans to the floor fall, eyelet unhooked all,
spices from cabinets burst forth,
kitchen mittens slapping each other
in utter disbelief

when I reply,
let us choose both!

for there is no bifurcation,
no line of demarcation
on our taste buds
this a truthful -
our lives a perpetual blending,
both will login lead to a
the right and proper ending
Savouring  ever
The behoof of cheer
White crane of hunger
***** the peach bitter
The desire went sour
Alleging for better
Written in Lai Poetry form.
The lai is another French form. It’s a nine-line poem or stanza that uses an “a” and “b” rhyme following this pattern: aabaabaab. The lines with an “a” rhyme use 5 syllables; the “b” rhyme lines have 2 syllables. It feels kind of like organized skeletonic verse.
Do you not see me sit and consume her?
The ex, the past lover.

I tell you she’s only good on the outside,
That the closer you get to the center
No matter how soft her skin,
How sweet she is just under her flesh,
She could be perfectly in-season, temptations taking months to taste.
you always find a way to that hard, dark, sour core—
Unbreakable by design.

That’s what gets passed on to her next in line,
I tell you.

You nod distracted,
You aren’t paying attention anymore.
I am beyond being seen,
So, I **** her in plain sight.
And in my words, a part of you that still listens understands.

Your subconscious stores her name amongst the other dark things
That turns your stomach inside itself and warps the corners of your mouth, sour.
And you finish reading your article.

I crack her in-half and expose the pit, where sweetness could be
But she refuses to die easy.
She cuts superficially, and no blood falls from my hands.
Does that make me beyond saving,
beyond human?
Or did my body make a pact that there would always be a last time when your name could hurt me?

I eat her until all the soft connecting tissue is gone.  
And next time I ask,
You tell me, oddly enough,
you don’t eat peaches anymore.
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