Friday, April 28, 2017

The Fruit Bowl

The Fruit Bowl

Poems by Cameron Goodrich, Colby Cole, and Sarah Cloutier. Edited by Parker Jalbert

A Word From the Editor-

  For this edition of the Mustang Stampede, this group has chosen to write poetry. Not just any poetry, however; this article will focus on fruit related poetry, and poetry of a topic of the author's choice. We hope you enjoy.

by Cameron Goodrich

Cucumbers are fruits,
but are always called veggies.
They grow off a plant,
yet lay on the ground,
Let's plant a seed,
in your brain,
as cucumbers have seeds,
which make them fruit
and not the veggie
that we conceive.

by Sarah Cloutier 

Why does fruit include tomatoes?
They belong more with the potatoes.
It just is not right,
It causes great fright.
Those stupid, stupid tomatoes.

The Perfect Pair of Pears
by Colby Cole

The perfect pair of pears doesn't exist.
The perfect pear doesn't have a second nor third.
The perfect pair of pears is impossible to resist.
The best pair of pears is imperfect to put it in a word.
The pears in the perfect pair of pears are perfect.
Impossible to top their juices, so sweet and pure.
Spending millions on this pair of pears would be truly worth it.
This pair of perfect pears will blow your mind for sure.
This perfect pair of pears has gone extinct.
The pair of pears I'm stuck with is rotten and stinks.

by Cameron Goodrich

Squish squash.
Now it's mush,
ready for pie,
Even though it's a lie.
The yellow fruit
is a grilled delicacy.

by Sarah Cloutier 

Why are poems so hard to write?
It's harder than flying a kite.
Let's just not,
it is a weak spot.
Writing poems is just not alright.

by Cameron Goodrich

The pollen flows
through the air.
Busy bees flying
from bud to bud
of every new flower.
With beds of purple
swaying side to side
in the breeze,
pollen flowing,
bringing new life
to the fields.
The field of fruits.

Happiness in a Mug
by Carrie Phinney

Happiness is a cup of tea in the morning.
It's the sugar and honey you use to sweeten it.
Happiness is the steam that rises above your mug that dances and churns.
It's the color that steeps from the bag as it soaks in the warm water.
Happiness is the warm mug in your hands.
The heat that rushes to your mouth when you take the first sip.
Happiness is a cup of coffee or tea in the morning.

by Carrie Phinney 

You peel back the orange skin,
mist of the citrus squirts in the air.
The happiness sprays like a joyful rain,
the supple fruit making April deluge,
just deep enough to prance in your galoshes.
Happiness fills your citrus filled mind with pure joy.
Oranges like a summer sunset,
the warmth seeping into your skin.
Memories of summer heat,
bumbling like honey bees.
The smell of flowers just coming into blooming colors.
Citrus juice floods your taste buds,
making them sing like a bird.
The sweet song in your ears,
the sweet taste in your mouth.

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