Apples poems that are original and profound. Explore a brilliant collection of apples poetry that you can’t stop reading. These poems on apples are published by poets from all over the world and are sure to keep you High On Poems!
Raining with unseen apples That the many Eves will feed The many other Adams with… Fertile rain for so many revivals Of wonderful heavens, Haunted, still, by the snake Of the same end… Shut up and listen As apples fall
You can learn a lot about a person watching them eat an apple even watching them in the supermarket give them a five dollar bill and tell them pick out any apple you want, it’s on me those store aisles
Please allow me to introduce myself simply as The Apple Tree supposedly in the Garden of Eden. I do not know why, but for the longest time, it has been assumed that I was in the Garden of Eden. I’ve
I travelled back a mile by the canal in sunshine, sky so fresh that early hour was nourishment and I gulped-down the air. Those path-side plants are nearly at their full, I watched a bristling, bulbous stem unroll, blue dragonflies,
The tree of apple symbolizes; The Adam and beautiful Eve. The tree of orange symbolizes; A true sign, a temptation. The tree of life symbolizes; Immortality, the eternity. The tree of love symbolizes; A Passion, a Salvation. The tree of
People are like apples picked from a tree, The beautiful ones with no imperfections are picked first, but that makes them bitter and unripe. The bruised and dented are picked last, but that makes them sweet and delicious. But beauty
Inspired by my interests, I have thought about my fault and strife. Faults that I would not, until I gave in, take seriously and strives that I fell in but gave in to my own deeds. I tried both compassion
On a day icy-cold, snowy and serene Glancing through the window ebony-framed Stitched a silk scarf a genial queen Prickled when she her slim flat finger Three blood drops fell upon her sewing Gave she birth to a girl ”Snow
Will you celebrate in heaven? Have all your birthdays been and gone? Are you 35 forever? Acting like you’re twenty one! Will Granny give you apples? And Taid build you fort? Will you have a pint with Gavin? Dutch beer,
It was both a complicated and a simpler place and time A very noisy and sometimes uncivil place, but very little crime A place though legally dry, yet filled with moonshine and wine Where peace and freedom were purchased by
Once you witnessed smiles on lovers, heard laughter, the running of feet up and down your sturdy boards. Fisherman cast an anxious rod over your side in anticipation of the beautiful bounty that swam in your shadow. Music from ferris
And there I sat at the table without a thing to eat. We often take the sweetest and most precious things life has to offer for granted. The thought persisted. Of all things I decided to bake a pie. All things
In the beginning of time We sought out a rhyme that would make things begin to shine Each of us has been given a real talent to discover We all must look within deep inside Love is a funny thing
You are peeling me off like a crab. Time has sunk very low. For the hungry kids who was growing crab apples? Creating art, arriving between the pubes. A microfossil roosting within me. I could live without oxygen. Incandescent, the
Our fondest memories sweeten my dreams Like buns, jellies and cakes a child adores, Like pastries, too, that know no other creams, The name remembered most and called is yours; I plan to make confection of a sort, Your smiles
O; happy folk, poetry is the fingers of light, descending at evening like an old farmer with eyes cut from azure. It told me that the sun has two long braids, and goes out at dawn to her grandfather’s flourishing
From the lakes in New Hampshire to the sand dunes of Cape Cod. From the mountains of Vermont to the seaports of Rhode Island. From the rocky seacoast of Maine to the Gold Coast of Connecticut. Winters of snow and
Immenseness of the contrast – from blue eyes to red apples, (we must stop apple picking!) from smashed leg to a stone wall – squanders the soft toys of time. A peach colored queen lies in state from centuries to
I am Lucifer the Prince of daemons which I command like a bunch of minions, for with them I annex realms and subjects who are no more than heavenly rejects, distinct from Saints; the apples of God’s eye. In Eden’s
(1) The door; out of it there is everything; Flags and noise, traffic policemen, temptation apples, toothy eyes, ears calculating breath bangs, tinny moon counting steps, cheeks flowering with love ready to pass to oblivion, flattering choruses, cola tans, gay
Feels cool to be a 21st century haiku. Not bothered with others’ frowns, scoffs and sneers. Only concerned with widening some unseen folded petals of their hearts, lips and thighs. Softening their flowing molecules of love, making them feel their
It’s time now for me to go No more will I see falling snow The Daffodils that decorated the banks And now distance memories for a longing son Saffron and Apples, their fragrance I smell From a scent that once
The Door// By: Fareed Ghanem **** (1) The door; outside there is everything; flags and noise, traffic policemen, temptation apples, toothy eyes, ears calculating breath-bangs, tinny moon counting steps, cheeks which flower with love, ready to pass to oblivion, flattering
Our innocent years and times gone by I remember too well when I was a child. Eating ice cream and playing hide and seek climbing trees and scuffed knees. Apple pie my gran would bake, Toffee apples and strawberry cake.
She is the first and last woman; Her hair is one thousand color waterfalls, nature briefed in her two almond eyes, her eyebrows two gardens riding on astonishment whispers, her cheeks two apples rolling down from Paradise always fleeing away
The Giant Banyan Tree in the country-side, Bunches of thick ropes hanging downward, Full of dark green leaves.Bats hanging from, Its branches with open wings.This ancient Banyan Tree has seen many ups and downs. Our grandmother’s village is calm and
I am in love with that pain That forces me to write The flower that keeps butterflies happy The water that is met by a traveler in a desert I am in love with that ray of Sun That falls
It has been so long So many years That I haven’t seen you My heart craves for your presence, for your love At night I don’t count the stars I just look at them Because they look beautiful and they
From winter to summer and back to winter again I hate these cold and gloomy days, the snow and The icy cold wind in my face that just seems to take My breath away and to make things worse all
I guess the first real cuts were more than they needed to be the number of times I’d twirled the blade constructing stillborn balsa skeletons, stegosauri and plesiosaurs always amputating a rib or femur by accident, preferring to leave them
The evening was cool, dark and heavy, I took the path less trodden by leading into the dense, deep, dark forest; From a distance I could hear the breaking of the waves. Alas!! How fortunate they are…..! I don’t have
Orchard eyes. like a poster on a wall they followed me and now even your empty frame still haunts me. I spent the last seven days trying to convince myself that the couch is not a sinking ship and you
Happy happy is the day When we can run, laugh jump and play Without fear of dying Or losing today No more anger No more hate No more grieving That’s always too late I am not blue And you are
Running scared, Look behind, A crazy man, That look in his eyes. He seems so driven, Is he from the past, Can’t stop to think, Gaining ground fast. Over a fence, Around hidden corners, Pursuing with madness, In the night
Astounding pride some exude, In reflection of exterior Little do beings ever realize That Master is all superior. The creator scrupulously must have Decanted, and created the imperial nature. Altruistically and artistically HE has scattered, A little of self in
Abdicating the shadows; totemic. I return back to dig up the buried- moon from the ruins of poetry. It benumbs. No response was coming from cajoling the black secrets- of time-cast. A storm was raging in a pack of emptiness.
How has history harkened to he? Through time he has become older, And distorted years, too much they see: How a man once real, has become sold, His discovery praised, but his life forgotten. And he’ll pass so silently, In
Fire in the forests Or forests on fire Absolute catastrophe For the flora and fauna Living in there ! It brings untold sufferings To the myriad life forms Ranging from soft green grass To thick bush lines and tough tree
I am consumed with leaving one foot in the door and a portion of my brain the size of a doubled walnut begins to perform calculations how long a stay means eagerness how long obligation how long politeness how long
Who am I? A pure soul who’s supposed to witness slaughtering of dreams and souls but never reveal for the sake of graffiti Who am I? A beauty to be shown off and endure every pain without a single drop
On a dull and dreary day When the sky was overcast With dark and dismal clouds I sat feeling so despondent Absence of warmth and sunshine Slowed down the routine business The day seemed longer than usual As if time
