Thursday, July 1, 2010


by Gideon Burton

Bananas, ripened past their mellow hue;
A softened mango, cracked and spilling ooze;
The sponge of grapes, their tissue reddish blue;
Tart grapefruit, wet -- so hard it is to choose
Among the fresh, reviving fruits of earth.
Each calls to me with odored, breathy sweet.
I hunger for what quenches, sharp rebirth,
When lips the fruitskin pierces as they meet.
Perhaps I speak in metaphors of you,
My love, whose garden harvest ever yields.
Yet I withhold from seeing these as true
To you: who are much more than earthy fields.
       I stand with fruit inside a land of flavor,
       Yet hunger more for your forgiving favor.

Feel free to copy, imitate, remix, or redistribute this poem as long as you give proper acknowledgment of authorship. Photo: flickr -

1 comment:

  1. I was going to tell you how hungry you were making me for fresh fruit, but then this sonnet got a little hot.

    Get a room! (just kidding)