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Justus May 13
After a satisfying fried catfish
dinner with collards and a sweet potato
I went for a stroll in the nearby plaza
I entered the Publix with a sweet treat
on my mind
And there I saw the watermelon woman
that made my mouth water instead
She was cutting up samples to be
passed out while wearing a sliced
watermelon costume
Long black hair rested on one of her shoulders
A small scar on the side of her mouth
was noticeable, but it was completely
overshadowed by her gaze
Our eyes met, and I was locked in
I smiled softly in reaction to the silliness
of the dichotomy between the woman
and the watermelon
A pineapple would've suited her much better
She responded to me by giving her own
slightly nervous smile
She offered me a sample, which I took
then she began to speak to me with her
chin pointed down towards the table
Her eyes never broke contact with mine
"They're two for one today. Really good too.
You should buy some."
"Have you tried it?"
"No, but I can tell. I can smell it."
How I'd love to try her out
Her body language said that she
was self-conscious, insecure
Yet her eyes told me that she was a lioness
ready to be dominated
I left the store empty handed
A missed opportunity on my part
It's been a while since I've done any farm work
but if I see the watermelon woman again
I'll plant seeds
MNDFL May 8
O
Destined for a noose for living life free;
Maybe that's why I've always been infatuated with death and pirates.
Prophesized to doom as sunrise caresses the land.
Like a sunshine blanket on a fresh corpse,
The innocent cursed creation;
Virgo son of Pisces and Taurus
Will await the tide to rise from beneath the docks.

I celebrate birthdays to commemorate the years passed,
That will never return no matter how many panic attacks
They throw at me through the fabric of reality
Using my psyche as a slingshot to harm me from dead years.

I stopped wondering if I was worthy of life
And lost taste for it like watermelon when I was six
And ate so much of it that I vomited until I passed out.
The idea of existence makes my stomach flip inside out
And scream and shudder for relief
Almost as much
As the image
Of a ripe green watermelon.
Munching on the cold interior,
Every speck of juice running down my chin.
Longing to sit here,
Only me and my watermelon,
Noises all at bay.

Only the crunching
From the tasty treat can be heard.

The sweet taste
Hitting my taste buds,
Ever so slowly.

Whether rain or shine,
Anguish or glee,
The succulentness watermelon brings to me.
Everlasting juicy redness,
Refreshing melon of the water.
Natalie Jun 2018
S-
swelting sun making me sweat
sleeveless shirts are a staple in my closet
skimpy skirts stick closely to my body

U-
urban adventures with underrated friends
unique experiences that are unforgettable
unhappy mother as I arrive home at unfit hours

M-
mainly mall shopping with money i don't have
making my own way, i hate having a job
marking myself down for college courses

M-
muffintops are not part of my bikini body
mornings are the only time it's not blazing hot
math is not in my vocabulary

E-
eating excellent watermelon
easily drifting off to sleep
excited for this evening's events

R-
resting 'round the clock
running from responsibility
rules aren't referring to me
Matthew Chau Apr 2018
taking a substantial bite from the already petite slice,
he smiles and shoves the remainder of the fruit in my face.
“it tastes just like you; innocent and oh-so delicious.”

my skin crawls on every level imaginable submerged in flesh.
turning around as to hide my contorted expression, i just nod.
i absolutely hate him, but they claim he took care of me as a child.

“you don’t have to like him; he just needs acknowledgment.”

he grips my hands and spins me around. just like he used to.
but harder. much harder. i used to feel terror; it’s routine now.
stare at the concrete as spit projects on my face - internal meditation.

they never believe me when i bring it up. i get it, there’s no proof.
these marks around my throat – allergies from the weather.
you’re right, these bruises, they’re from rough housing. tough love.

literally.

he says the easiest way to discipline someone was reinforcing punishment.
you should see the strength he uses to test for ripeness at the market.
now imagine this: the watermelon is your skull, and his fists are knives.

i just avoid eye contact and clench my abdomen; the knees are coming.
“i’m going to spread you open today, boy; like a ******* ****** watermelon”
he loves seeing the liquid run down my chin – perfectly young and seedless.

and i react just how he likes it:

like his ******* watermelon.
from my poetry book, Bravado
instagram: matthew__chau
Sanjali Jan 2018
2
-Watermelon-

I looked around
And no one was there.
Peeked at my mother,
She wasn't aware.
So I ate the watermelon
Like a bear.

A second slice,
Did I dare?
I looked again,
Still no one here.
So I ate the watermelon
Like a bear.

I was still hungry,
That was rare.
My mother called,
I didn’t care.
So I ate the watermelon
Like a bear.

Now I’m done,
The skin lays bare.
Answered my mother
'I'm right here!'
But why did I eat the watermelon
Like a bear?
Josh Nov 2017
As a baby, he'd eat watermelon like it was his last supper.
Mom always said he'd eat a whole watermelon if she'd let him.

He was a happy baby, she'd say. Always had a smile on his face like he knew the answer to happiness.
Dolores L Day Jan 2015
Your first word was "Watermelon"
It's funny because I'm black.
My boyfriend is wonderful and I'm ******* insane. Writing this poem helps.
Daylight 4U2C May 2014
"Grow up tall,
little kid,"
said grandpa Joe.
And so I did.

The watermelon grow tall too.
The sunflowers look to the sky,
keeping their chins up,
raised real high.

So maybe it's silly,
watching grass grow,
but if you never try,
how could you ever know?

So maybe it's crazy,
chanting for the rain,
but if it never comes,
how could I grow the grain?

I'd prefer to stare at clouds,
than sleep forever like a rock,
skidding by life.
Why, that would just ****!

So, if you ask me to leave this here place,
you better shove it,
before you wake up
in an unknown space,
******* with lace,
with a disfigured face,
completely full of mace,
and a strange case
of something poisonous.

— The End —