#peaches
If you don't
want my peaches,
then don't
shake my tree,
If you didn't
want to be
bothered,
then I suggest you
go and flea,
I've moved right on,
You can't even
handle me,
Cos,
I'm the
REAL DEAL, and
I'M THE REAL TEA!!!
You wasn't trying
TO HOLLA,
YOU
JUST DIDN'T SEE!!!
So run along
WITH BIG BERTHA!!! and
the rest of
her
MINI ME'S!!!
YOU WERE
JUST A TOOL,
NOT EVEN A FLEX,
I got rid of
YOU,
and
I was LIKE
WHO'S NEXT!!!
You think that I am cruel, and
what I'm doing is wrong
YOU COULDN'T HANDLE THIS CHICA
It time you
MOSEY ALONG!!!
Just
PROTECTING MY PEACE,
POSITIVE VIBES
IS IN THIS PLACE,
I HAD THE TO CUT THE STRINGS, and
GET YOU OUT OF MY SPACE
You M*R F*R
I AIN'T NO SUCKER
NO PEACHES FOR YOU!!!!
THEY WILL GO TO ANOTHER!!!
IT IS A WONDER,
IT IS SUCH A BLUNDER
YOU MISSED THIS TREAT, AND
IT JUST WENT ASUNDER!!!!
B.R.
Date: 5/10/2026
May 11
May 11, 2026 at 12:07 AM UTC
The house was asleep, the kitchen was bright,
A quiet bad idea beneath the fridge light.
I reached for a peach, soft, golden, and sweet,
The kind of temptation that’s hard to defeat.
Juice on my hands, a laugh I can’t taint,
Life’s far too short to behave like a saint
When peaches are ripe… and restraint really ain’t.
Mar 16
Mar 16, 2026 at 5:35 AM UTC
The first fruit I ever stole
came from an old man I don’t know the name of.
I know he couldn’t move
from his La-Z-Boy by the front window.
I know how his gravelly voice boomed across the yard
as he scolded me for taking peaches from his tree.
I don’t know why he cared.
I know my sister would smile when I brought them home.
And I know my brother had this habit—
biting only one side
until he reached the pit.
I don’t know what happened to the old man,
but I know the peaches started something bigger.
I know I later became a thief—
but also had this habit
of giving people fruit when they’d come over.
I don’t know if the old man knew my name,
or if he just called me the brat who stole his peaches.
I know they cut down that peach tree
when I was in ninth grade.
And I know
I’ve never had a peach so sweet
as the ones from the old man’s tree.
Aug 19, 2025
Aug 19, 2025 at 6:28 PM UTC
Love is a peach,
a sweet and luscious fruit
set high upon a garden wall,
we climb, we taste
we scrape our knees and then we fall,
then through burning embers
one remembers
it was worth it after all
Jan 9, 2025
Jan 9, 2025 at 4:11 AM UTC
Approaching customs, my father slowed the car.
"Time to eat! he said, and pulled us to the side.
He'd bought peaches from a fruit stand,
Forgotten they'd never cross the border.
Never one to waste, his plan unfolded.
We stood beside the car, peach juice
Trickling down our arms,
Falling at our elbows,
Gorging a delicacy turned to glut,
Making memories of forced generosity,
Gluttons of fruit, victims of parsimony.
My mother knew what was coming:
The cramps we kids would have
From smuggling peaches
In stretched bellies
Into Canada.
Dec 6, 2023
Dec 6, 2023 at 9:40 AM UTC
Passion
a taste of peaches
grown upon a wall
through glowing embers
love remembers
how sweet it was to fall
Sep 13, 2023
Sep 13, 2023 at 12:13 PM UTC
I imagine sitting on a porch somewhere humid and calm,
a tall tree, full of hand fruits, providing shade to foot traffic.
In this imagining, the lemonade is almost too sweet but doesn't stick to the table when it dries, and the mesh lining of the patio denies mosquitos all entry.
Their buzzing is drowned by the sound of ice being crushed three or four times with margarita mix and my favorite sin. Here, life has halted so dearly in a way I've always wanted, and in this, there is peace.
My parents would have kept a container of peanuts nearby to have with their Pepsis for days like this--
days where sound and warmth and humidity mingle, and fanning yourself with an old church pamphlet was better than being
bored, comfortable, and air-conditioned.
Apr 15, 2023
Apr 15, 2023 at 12:04 AM UTC
always thought a man was what i needed
thought that there was reason
why, after how hard I tried
love kept declining, defying my expectations
moving in and out of happy places
but i found something
watered my seeds, watched them grow into trees
now i revel in the sweetness of its berries
i dont need a man, i dont even think i want one
art is my soulmate, time is no longer my weakness
bite into life’s big peaches
no need for men in my reach
art is my soulmate, my vibe is Venus
Jun 17, 2022
Jun 17, 2022 at 1:45 PM UTC
Peaches at first bite
Soft skin yellow gold within
Summer on my chin
May 15, 2022
May 15, 2022 at 10:18 AM UTC
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
unexperienced
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.
fear.
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
hissing
against the surface
Solidago and Indian Mallow
smeared across the sky
reflecting against me
until I'm nothing
but the fuzz
of a peach
Dec 13, 2020
Dec 13, 2020 at 6:56 PM UTC
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
Aug 26, 2020
Aug 26, 2020 at 11:21 PM UTC
Peaches
/Tuesday/
Kingdom- Plantae
Genus-Prunus
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?
Aug 11, 2020
Aug 11, 2020 at 5:42 PM UTC
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
Apr 5, 2020
Apr 5, 2020 at 8:34 PM UTC
Warm days
Heavy nights
Lemonade
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
Jul 24, 2019
Jul 24, 2019 at 3:03 PM UTC
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,
or
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
Jun 30, 2019
Jun 30, 2019 at 5:34 PM UTC
Savouring ever
The behoof of cheer
Flying
White crane of hunger
***** the peach bitter
Dropping
The desire went sour
Alleging for better
Flavouring.
©_shade_of_a_lonely_girl
May 7, 2019
May 7, 2019 at 3:24 AM UTC
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.
Apr 30, 2019
Apr 30, 2019 at 10:08 PM UTC
I don’t know why
I love peaches like I do,
perhaps because they're sweet
and remind me of you.
Maybe because they’re messy
and their juice gets my hands sticky,
so I don’t forget the lingering taste.
It could be because the smell
brings me back to past summers
spent with friends just peaceful,
eating peaches and spilling tea.
Peach tea, I guess.
I don’t know why
I love peaches so readily,
Perhaps because they're tender,
and bruise just as easily as me.
Feb 14, 2019
Feb 14, 2019 at 9:30 PM UTC
The sunset girls with warm smiles and sweet laughter. With ice cream, diamond earrings, diaries, romance movies under fluffy blankets, strawberry shortcake, lemonade made slightly too sour with a pink paper straw and perfect ice cubes.
The midnight girls with a wild side and messy hair. With perfect eyeliner, surprising laughs, black sketchbooks, late night ramen runs, stolen oversized sweatshirts, black cherries, fluffy socks under polished black combat boots tied in a neat little bow.
The sunrise girls with addicting voices and perfect high ponytails. With slogan t shirts, velvet scrunchies, red lip gloss, chocolate covered bananas, paintbrushes and easels, early morning hikes, coffee with creamer, foam, and probably too much sugar.
The sunshine girls with bright grins and kind eyes. With light blushes, sweatpants, rainbow sprinkles, nails painted, flower tattoos, peaches and cream, messy bangs, sketchbooks probably covered in stickers and crop tops just short enough to tease, paired with cute bralettes.
Feb 8, 2019
Feb 8, 2019 at 12:04 AM UTC
I’ve got flowers
of all types in my pocket,
stars hung up
in the sky,
a dress
made out of sweetness,
honey, ice-cream, and pie.
I’ve got plans
for some tattoos,
a tiny blue flower,
stolen right from the clouds,
peaches and cream,
and a strawberry,
picked from the sunset,
delicate, pretty, almost a dream.
I’ve got a lifetime left
of laughter,
of tears,
and hearts shattered,
swept up, stored away,
memories clouded by sunshine
and London fog lattes,
talking with friends
in a timeless, gorgeous café.
Oct 14, 2018
Oct 14, 2018 at 10:20 PM UTC