Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Alliesaurus Jun 2010
Green husks burned
Summer sky molds the fruit to hold its passion;
Probed curiosity of a world above
our atmosphere.
What happens that we, the all-powerful humans, couldn't fathom?
Peeled open, a bright yellow star,
Alone in the fruit filled universe
In a forgotten crate at the end of an aisle
Whilst apples and grapes go on parade
the passion, guava, and star are a scandal.
Bruised sides see the glare of the electric light
(Once the bright orange glow of the sun
kissed these green skins)
The sweet flesh of a bitten star
is covered by black holes
once as bright as stars
The apples and grapes fade
in their repetition
May 6, 2004
Zach Gomes Oct 2010
While the sun pours over the early nightmarket
An old woman sits, chewing
Betel seed adrenaline into
Wilting veins sprawled arachnid
Behind her knees

She, the center of all activity, is merely there
A few children lift cinder blocks
And their fathers solder wire
To help put up the gate
Before a white temple

She spits a thick *** of it into
Her ***, a young woman nearby
Pulls starfruit from a stall
Starfruit, whose name should belong
To the most elegant fruit, what a
Pity it has such a wretched tang

By now, the old woman is bobbing around
Her murky mind, a betel juice
Aquarium she can barely perceive the precision
Of the cremation ceremony next door climaxing with
The scattering of jasmine leaves
To indicate mourning and forgiveness
For untimely suicide and when the
Cameraman approaches our old woman
She spreads a numb smile, revealing her
Black oily teeth
Tarred over in betel juice
Josie Stewart Dec 2020
Wither the flowers,
Fade the wood,
Count down the hours
To the hooded winter.

He robs you of daylight—
Sun pass on,
Cloud eat the fruitbright.
End the day with the wind.

Lo! What woman comes
With starfruit.
Sweet child, sweet fruit sums
Summer dress spring.

Sing me the spring song—
Sing, little widow,
Sad tales of winter gone,
Lemonade songs of summer groom.
Written in 2009
The Good Pussy Dec 2014
.
                                  

                   S                S                  S
                        t            t              t
                             a      a       a
               S     t     a       r       S     t     a     r
                                 S   S    S
                            t         t         t
                       a             a              a
                   r                  r                   r
CH Gorrie Jun 2013
There were six horses,
Abaco Barbs - black, white, tan -
enclosed in my Olympus's lense.

The camera reached through deadwind
that whipped the Huey's window,
painted a staggered line where the herd had been.

It was fall 1977,
Abaco's Independence Movement had ended;
Oliver and WerBell were gone,

having run off like photographed horses -
distant, almost ignorant of me (at some point,
they must've assumed there were wildlife

photographers inside Abaco). It was fall
1977:
the ornamental Allamanda still rustled in deadwind;

the starfruit still ripened and fell. It was fall
1977 and that country
was nearly the same as it'd always been.
"The Abaco Barb is an endangered strain of the Spanish Barb horse breed found on Great Abaco Island in the Bahamas. The Abaco Barb is said to be descended from horses that were shipwrecked on the island during the Spanish colonization of the Americas and the Caribbean. The population of wild Abaco Barbs that run free on Great Abaco once numbered over 200 horses. The Abaco Barb is found in different colors than the European/African Barb, including pinto (including the relatively uncommon splashed white), roan, chestnut, black and other colors. They range between 1.32 to 1.47 m (13.0 to 14.2 h)."

"The Abaco Islands lie in the northern Bahamas and comprise the main islands of Great Abaco and Little Abaco, together with the smaller Wood Cay, Elbow Cay, Lubbers Quarters Cay, Green Turtle Cay, Great Guana Cay, Castaway Cay, Man-o-War Cay, Stranger's Cay, Umbrella Cay, Walker's Cay, Little Grand Cay, and Moore's Island. Administratively, the Abaco Islands constitute five of the 31 Districts of the Bahamas: North Abaco, Central Abaco, South Abaco, Moore's Island, and Hope Town. Towns in the islands include Marsh Harbour, Hope Town, Treasure Cay, Coopers Town, and Cornishtown."

"In August 1973, shortly after the Bahamas became independent, the Abaco Independence Movement was formed as a political party whose stated aim was self-determination for the Abaco Islands within a federal Bahamas. In October 1973, AIM published a newsletter to launch it's campagn for 'self-determination through legal and peaceful political action'. AIM proposed that all Crown land on Abaco would be placed in a land trust. Each citizen would receive a one acre home lot from the trust plus shares giving them an income from land sales and leases. The land trust would enter into a joint venture to develop a 60 sq mile free trade zone. When AIM was formed by Chuck Hall and Bert Williams, they contacted an American financier named Michael Oliver, who through his libertarian Phoenix Foundation agreed to support AIM financially. The Phoenix Foundation had previously sought to establish a libertarian enclave in the South Pacific, the Republic of Minerva. AIM's first convention, held on February 23 1974, was addressed by John Hospers, the Libertarian Party's 1972 US presidential candidate. Hospers was later refused entry to the Bahamas. The maverick British MP Colin Campbell Mitchell also visited Abaco to offer support."

"Michael Oliver (born 1930) is a Lithuanian immigrant of Jewish descent, Las Vegas real estate millionaire, and political activist. He was the founder of the micronation project the Republic of Minerva, a failed attempt to create a sovereign state in the South Pacific in 1972. In the following decades, Oliver and his Phoenix Foundation were also involved in similar projects on the Bahamian island of Abaco and in Vanuatu with the New Hebrides Autonomy Movement (MANH) which was done by financing an insurrection. He also published a manifesto of his libertarian beliefs. Oliver is prohibited to enter in Vanuatu and his nation-building projects seem to be on hiatus."

"Mitchell Livingston WerBell III, (1918–1983), was an OSS operative, soldier of fortune, paramilitary trainer, firearms engineer, and arms dealer.In 1972 WerBell was approached by the Abaco Independence Movement (AIM) from the Abaco Islands, a region of the Bahamas, who were worried about the direction the Bahamas were taking and were considering other options, such as independence or remaining a separate Commonwealth nation under the Crown in case of the Bahamas gaining independence (which they did in 1973). AIM was funded by the Phoenix Foundation, a group which aims to help build truly free micronations. The AIM collapsed into internal bickering before a coup by Werbell could be carried out."

^http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Barb_horse
^http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Abacos
^http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Abaco_Independence_Movement
^http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Michael_Oliver_(real_estate)
^http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mitchell_WerBell
Jessica Wong Sep 2012
The faint smell of the watery sugar
is barely noticed. The starfruit's fragrance
swept away into faint nothingness
at the hands of the tropical winds of Hawaii.

Hanging onto the tree, the fruit once sour and bitter
undergoes a seemingly emotional transformation.
The sun's sweet-tempered fingers are secretly and appealingly molding it.
It learns to be sweet instead of sour,
our taste buds tingling with the power to taste,
but being held closely like bloodhounds on a leash.

It brings an exotic originality to the table.
The Vietnamese fable, blah-blah-bitty-blah its unknown.
It's skin kissed by golden rays,
and the once green fades
into a sweet banana yellow.

on the inside, it still knows its roots,
it still knows the sliminess of negativity,
and on the inside it holds tan pellets shaped just like tear drops,
embraced within its boogers of its old bitter soul.

Droplets of water drip-drop down
off the waxy fruit, and it lays silently on a freckled
black marble counter. Sweating sickeningly after a cold shower,
its cool glistening skin signals its execution.
Soon enough the executioner arrives,
the sharp shining blade blinding
with bright lines of reflected light.

No, it wasn't nearly as crisp and sugary as an apple,
nor was it even as sweet and citrusy as an orange,
and yet, it was a little bit of both.
The little stars stuck somewhere in-between,
alone in the galaxy of oranges and apples.
Can you please please please leave a comment? Whether you like my writing or not to help me improve? Thank you :) everything is appreciated!
Sleepy Sigh Dec 2010
Poetry is like electricity,
But without a switch,
And stronger;
Like lightning.
It strikes you, and suddenly
You're a pianist;
You can speak Swahili;
The color green tastes like
Starfruit (only you've never had it
So all you can think
Is, "Man, this forest is delicious!")

Poetry is a zap from nowhere.
It makes your hair stand on end;
It makes you half afraid and
Half eager. You start flying
Kites with keys and fixing the satellite
In storms because it's awful for
A second, but then
You're never the same.

I know.
I've been struck so many times
And each time, I've traded
Gibberish for English,
Sight for insight,
Words for love,
And love for words again.
I have heard voices bellowing
And crying
And laughing.
I have seen smoke and sunlight
And smelled sulfur and
Tasted honey and salt.

Maybe I am not "smart,"
Always leaping into danger,
But I can't think of a better way to die
Than  to be struck by poetry.
uploading from school, haha, wrote it rigth after a test
Pearson Bolt Feb 2017
i make love with Death every night.

during the day, we go our separate
ways, but she's always on my mind.
after work, we meet up.
same routine. dinner, occasionally.
but always drinks.

she downs a bottle
of Cabernet
with no help
from me.
the red compliments
her dress and flushes
her cheeks with pink.
i just take coffee. black.

afterwards, she needs
a lift home. i'm her dd.
the city lights blur
indigo and violet,
blossoming like flowers
in the pavement
of the night sky.

we arrive. she invites
me to come inside,
looks me in the eye,
says, "i love you."

i believe her,
even though i know
it's a lie.

the minutes hang thick.
while she sobers up,
we roll dice
and tell stories.

then, breathless and slick,
it begins in the kitchen.
gasps come in spasms, pulsing
in tandem with our obsessive—
compulsive—desire.
we continue beneath the duvet.
i sample the flesh between her legs.
she tastes like pomegranate
and bruised starfruit. her sweat
is second-hand smoke. my brain buzzes
from Marlboro Lite cigarettes.

afterwards, we lay over the sheets
as the ceiling fan rotates eternally
overhead, humming a tune we both hear
in our dreams but cannot comprehend.  
her head rests on my chest,
she loses herself in the gaps
between each heartbeat.

wordless, we drift.

when i wake, she's always gone.
the space in bed beside me
has grown cool. jealously,
i wish Death had taken me with her.
Fah Jul 2013
Room 14 with the starfruit tree and pink blossoms out front and a Sala perfect for dances
Stargazing and rain dances
In the shadows of mother in the hearts of others
i found the beat , the movements of time and space co - create
I am part of the convoy to welcome in the rains of spiritual nourishment , for myself included

What better place than black sanded temples of resistance and Art Cafe's with deep sea explorers as their musical accompaniment
Searching for secret beaches only to find temple forests ,  vast cliffs of vast air and vast sea playing with the light that rains down in sheets to the ocean floor , refracting into golden hues of deep blue , white froth and aqua

Finally a beach , packed to the brim
lX0st Nov 2018
You kiss me with your native tongue
Between sea salted breaths
Hints of starfruit and filth
Relish saintly dialects
Distant malaise clings to
Gritted teeth, unclenched
Your kaleidoscope soul
Vulnerable, drenched
Dripping liquified gold
Ornate in transcendental air
Upstaging whatever gods
May reside up there
Lucanna Sep 2014
I bathe myself in preparation
Suds of lavender & honey
lathered over my smooth summer skin
I even shave
just for you
Moroccan oil pours over my scalp
exfoliating extra well behind the ears
ah the ears
my favorite spot
Gently dry off
Making sure not to miss any spots
above the knee
where usually a stubble island lingers
make sure the *******
are like starfruit
ready for your suckling
Lather cocoa butter
on elbows and around neckline
sensual, a paradise for you
My argan oil tresses, your palm trees
drown lashes in bat black
curl them upward towards cloudy head
I pinch already flushed cheeks
nice and baby doll pink, just the way you like it
All the while staining lips vamp scarlet
so that you may think their sole purpose
on my face is for
circling around your ****
I tweeze brows into crescent moons
over a Bette Davis eye sky
And I won't dare forget to bleach each pearly tooth
picket fence white
So when I flash my counterfeit grin
a twinkle may appear
and blur the emptiness
lurking between both corners
Now for the *****, bra pairing
of course midnight lace and twin
You, my dear get to unwrap this body of mine
How will you choose what to unravel first?
******* or ****?
Decisions. Decisions.
All of it for your
heartbreaking ***** machismo

I arrive,
just as those perfect hands
of your clock
strike the moment you wanted them to
You dine
licking your fingers after each dish
You breathe cigarette breathe
Your pungent odor wreaks over my body
as yours climbs aboard
Hair, greasy hamburger follicles
Skin, porous with choking chemicals
And there is nothing to unwrap
nothing for me to find
Except an empty chest
The gold had been in my pockets the whole time
I must bathe you off.
can cause seizure              
can lead to  kidney damage
is toxic, starfruit
Cecelia Francis Dec 2014
The nighttree looming
in full bloom -clumps
of ripe starfruit
hanging from
boughs-
drooping
heavily
Elizz Mar 2019
Happiness
Lately it's been tasting like a starfish
Dipped in starfruit

Coating my tongue like fresh strawberries
Chocolate follows after
Spearmint

Because things have been so busy
The main avenue of fifth street in new york
Caramel for slow days

And

Bits of sunshine when you're nearby
But I've managed to do without
The strong flavor of black tea

With a pinch of chai
And a favored glimmer of lemon
I haven't been around much

I'm sorry for that things have been
Hectic to say the least
An enjoyable

Fast paced briskness
But
I think I'm back now for a while at least

Lift that smile
Brighten those eyes

Cheery notes play throughout the skies
Hey its been a while. How ya doing?
Sora Apr 2014
Sora
Sky
Empty

Take me to your sanctuary
For I will
Empty out the skies to keep them within my heart

Falling into the dream
That I've fallen asleep to every night
With Kairi falling higher and higher into those emptied clouds
And I pray that there's still enough left to cushion her fall

Tell her that I'm at the station
My train's come to let me replace
And bleed out the skies so that she can fall asleep to the stars again.

With the starfruit brushing the shores safely before
I wanna line the pieces up, yours and mine.
Ana Habib Apr 2018
Have you heard of them?
Or seen one with your own eyes
I may have found one
During a stroll
He was talking to some one over the phone
When he caught my eye
He stood tall at 5’11
Slim almost lanky
Well dressed
With shiny clear skin
Green eyes, that reminded me of starfruit
Blue-ish black eyes
Pleasant features
He loves to talk
Never has an unkind word to say about anyone
He does not drink
He does not smoke
He does not look at other woman
He does not curse
He does not raise his voice until he is severely provoked
He never shouts
He is very agreeable at times
And then there are night where his stubbornness does not let him sleep
He is very organized
He is very punctual
He cooks like an angel
The children always run to him
He is not afraid to lend a hand
Does not say no to house work
He is friendly so everyone in the neighbourhood love him
He is quiet but never moody
He is thoughtful but needs a lesson or two in romance
He is obedient but needs help with passion
He is practical but unable to be optimistic
He respects all the elder
Calls his mother daily
Loves his grandma
Has sense of humour but it comes at the worst moments

The world agrees that he a good man
One-of-a-kind
Mom says he is perfect
Dad is beaming with pride
But my heart
It feels nothing
There he is!
Twinkle toes
Shining in the garden
dancing over the Surinam cherries
and Starfruit,
Clipping fragrant gardenia blossoms
And voluptuous red roses

My Bright Star of David
I love you!

— The End —