Appletown Poem by Troy Cochran
Appletown
Take me back to Appletown.
I missed a few and now I've found.
I'm on a quest
For the Holy Grail of pommes!
And visions of them pommel down
Around me now!
Golden yellows, delicious reds!
Let them bruise:
I'll drink the cider straight from their own heads!
Are they too ripe for picking now?
All the ladders put to shed?
Let them hang,
I'll SHAKE them down!
Has all been said that can be said?
I'll burrow down into their roots
And feel the ladder-round in their own boots,
And let them pick MY brains instead!
And teach me how the Holy Grail of pommes
May yet be writ:
I am not done with apple picking yet!
Very creatively done, and a joy to read! Yes, words are fun to play with. Children play with toys or their pets; Poets play with words. (From a consistent Scrabble- game winner.)
For a wordsmith, I'm embarrassingly stupid at Scrabble. I was better at apples ~ I grew up in and around orchards, so I have pommeled a lot of pommes, pruned prunes, penned poems, picked peppers, and pecked poor people pretty piss-poorly practicing over-'pinionated poetry, know what I mean, P.P.? So I won't be going back to Scrabbletown anytime soon. Not on purpose, anyway. :)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/25/2024 7:58:48 PM # 1.0.0.1119
Stroke of a genius! ! !
See, I have skills. I have been called many things, but rarely a genius. This is probably a good thing. Because now my head is a balloon. I may be drifting over Nigeria sometime soon. Keep a weather-eye out. :)