Flesh of an apple
A drop of red; stains earth; proves gravity;
grows up as a sprawled tree; bears alluring,
glistening fruits I have brought for you at this
sickbed. Tell me, what you think of this
harvest; tell me, if it reminds you of
Eden, of a boulevard winding down.
The white flesh, the fruitiness fills your mouth.
The crème of memories, good times, galas
we have gone to till I become a drop
of red and fall and reincarnated.
© 2009-Copyright reserved Kushal Poddar (reprinting is absolutely prohibited, without permission)
Apple of a killer
Poison in an apple
was his style.
We knew it.
We knew wherefrom
he has bought those fruits.
We never knew
how hate was born.
© 2009-Copyright reserved Kushal Poddar (reprinting is absolutely prohibited, without permission)
haiku apple
the smell of apple
a shaft of dry winter sun
falls across the swing
© 2009-Copyright reserved Kushal Poddar (reprinting is absolutely prohibited, without permission)
Apple afterthought
After all these things said and done he dreamed of a sandy beach which became the flesh of an apple and it ate him and spitted his skull as the seed.
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Comments: 111
A drop of red; it falls; proves gravity;
grows up an apple tree; bears alluring
glistening fruits I have brought for you at this
sickbed. Tell me, what you think of this
harvest; tell me, if it reminds you of
Eden, of a long road winding downwards.
The white flesh of the fruit fills your mouth.
The crème of memories, good times, galas
we have gone to till I become a drop
of red and fall and reincarnated.
I like the beginning becoming the end, extending the metaphor, the flesh of the Apple, the flesh of Man is the same in the eye of creation.
Nicely penned.
I am amending them. Thank you Karl. We must leave the cliche.
Again, nicely penned.
The goal of writing should be to express an idea, which other people can understand. If someone merely writes for himself, that's akin to masturbation, not that there's anything wrong with that.
Just a different goal.
That's to say self-pleasuring or as I put it: masturbation.
Of course change is needed. Or it will become a dogma.
look, I am too
I have changed the first poem of this post in a subtle way. Do you like it?
No, I should be writing, but I'm not! I have a bunch of lovely random lines that are unconnected, that should meet each other somewhere! Your poems are inspiration, of course!
Cold Geese Sunset
Sunset of Cold Geese
:+)
These apples are a corruption. Excreted from humanity in blood, they are the curse, our dark side, outer manifestations of our darker energies.
Eaten by your own beach. Spiritual quicksand?
I think of the apple orchard as well. I think that the apple on my head had a purpose. Now I will find another pasttime more productive.
Mar~
I like the seed, skull overlap since the 'seed' is the genetic bridge [part of it] and the skull houses the seat of the psyche/soul/ re-linked consciousness/reincarnation.
thought by pointing to sand engineers destruction of the carnal, providing the pathway for renewal. If I have distorted your vision do forgive me.
flesh of an apple
Life is, indeed, a cycle, or even a "cycle of cycles" as I wrote in a poem once. You have captured that so well, and the red of the apple from the "blood" of the earth is such an appropriate and powerful symbol. The poisoned apple is itself a potent symbol, worthy to carry in its lusciousness and alluring appearance to serve as a vehicle for the poison of hatred.
APPLE OF MY I
“Today’s forbidden fruit
Is tomorrow’s health food,”
She said, taking an enormous bite
From an organically grown apple.
She settled back against the bole of a tree
And stared off into space.
“What does that mean?” he inquired,
Raising his head up from the grass
And resting it on one fist.
“Oh, I don’t know, Adam.
It’s just that I want to see the world.
I want to know the meaning of life.
There has to be more to it than this.
Besides, the neighborhood has been
Going downhill for years.
Have you noticed those snakes
That have been hanging around here lately?”
Chris Brockman (1989)
Thank you Chris.
We never knew
how hate was born.
Then felt a calmness and safety and warmth with the haiku
the smell of apple
a shaft of dry winter sun
falls across the swing
Good poems.
And the writer's craft conversation...views on the line to head from heart and the return... intelligently passionate. Those exchanges are why I Gather.
http://www.gather.com/viewArticle.action?articleId=281474977891565
tiny words
Featured at Grass Roots Writing
with many thanks Kushal
Mark
Featured in the Triple Name Club.
Thanks for posting to my group, Anythingwriting