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Salmabanu Hatim Jun 2018
What a surprise!
A single bud on a rose tree,
Blushing to open,
As glistening dew bathe it.
I moved down the orchard,
Ah! The Rose Family (Rosaceae),
Apples (malus),
Raspberries (rubus),
Strawberries (fragaria).
Having a morning chat,
In awe to see the blooming of their cousin,the rose,
Their leaves trembling with joy.
Roses are red my love,
So are their cousins Prunus,
Plums and cherries,
Red as fresh blood,
Nodding in the gleaming sun.
What a get-together!
Druzzayne Rika May 2018
Cherries and poppies
raspberries and strawberries
and fallen red leaves,
a burning memory.
Kevin Mar 2017
scorning sun bursts into the aisles of graying curly waves,
punching yellow teeth and candied sweets with the
green of loving laughter that i've not heard in years.

you taught our fingers to bleed of bramble dew.
so sticky in our attempts to keep Genevieve's crystal filled but,
clear of improper pounds. collected ounces that rudely
overflow, are picked with mudded, forested feet.

consumed so clean and sweet, from thorns
between the brush, the aisles buzzed of summers paths
that only lead us where we knew.

through the scales and passed the cords
where drying life would heat our warmth,
nights would drop with echoing sounds like trains
slowly passing through our country's vacant crossing.

you voluminous sap of unaccounted ooze.
you sweet maple so never barren or dull.
you flame of northern light.

take me back to the path we passed
where cords are dried to burn
where frogs croak in Côté's creek
where my memories live and yearn
These are the memories I have of my lovely French Canadian Grandparents. My grandfather died when I was three, my only memory of him is collecting sap from maple trees and making maple syrup. The memories of my grandmother are her Crystal Candy jars always full, her yellow teeth stained from cigarettes, going blueberry and raspberry picking barefoot in the summer at our log cabin, her undeniably infectious laugh, and snoring so loud at night it could keep the dead awake.
Maple Mathers Feb 2016
As a footnote, I’ve always held a certain regard for those plentiful fruits. Raspberries. Small and juicy and sweet. Quick and easy.

Now, it’s apples on the other hand I heavily despise.

To eat an apple is to make a commitment. Society generally frowns upon those who eat half an apple, just to toss out the rest. And most people are not exactly bargaining for your leftovers once they’re brown and teeth marked. Apple eating is a long and rigorous ordeal. Halfway through, the raw parts begin to stain or dry and when you’re finally finished, you’ve still got to deal with that core and the skin that’s stuck in your teeth. Herein, apples and commitments become synonymous. Convenience, the antonym.

Raspberries, however, are miniature, and zesty, and only last for a matter of seconds.

**Not unlike ideal high school relationships.
An excerpt from my novel - Pretense.

(All poems original Copyright of Eva Denali Will © 2015, 2016.)

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