Vested in spring blossoms, perfume of passion fills the air
The smell is sweet, prowling creatures greet its fragrance fair
Amorous bees by scent caught are brought to pollinate flowers of beauty
Lovers on wings serenade to persuade for a taste of honey's sweet booty
Fruit droplets grow and drip from branches high and low, heavy laden
Season's yield behind a leaf shield, show in the arms of a tree maiden
Blush of ripening fruit attracts to each shoot hungry birds and worms
Predators and competitors ravage and loot introjecting larva's germs
Damaged fruit fall to rot, all for naught on the ground a discarded waste
In it only fermented memories are found parasitic bound, bitter to the taste
Fruit picked preditor pricked, with time does wrinkle with age
Spring to summer, summer to fall, assuage winter's icy stage of rage
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Author:
sorenbarrett (
Offline) - Published: March 22nd, 2026 03:28
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 36
- Users favorite of this poem: Tristan Robert Lange
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Comments8
Nothing's wasted, nature needs the nutrients, and it all goes back to the earth (one way or another).
Here down under, the authorities went on a bee extermination project, followed by baiting, in a failed attempt to eradicate the varroa mite.
Not sure if it extends to death of Dave's mosquitoes? But who doesn't love a good conspiracy!
Thanks for the review and comment it is most appreciated. Yes nothing is wasted matter can not be destroyed only changed to energy or other forms of matter yet there are consequences and the changes we evoke may not be what we thought or wished. Meddling with nature never turns out well in the long run.
I couldn't agree more.
Beautiful. Vivid and sharp.
Thank you Thomas your words are most appreciated
The symphony starts with Vivaldi and ends with the discordant notes of Hendrix's guitar...
That is when spring is confused with string and putting a t for a p leaves teepee and indigenous dwelling made of hides hardly a fruit tree but maybe the poles were made of applewood
Soren, this moves from sweetness to something far more complicated…spring’s allure giving way to damage, decay, and what’s left behind. Lines like “fermented memories…bitter to the taste” really hold that shift. It’s beauty, but not untouched…full cycle, consequences included. Strong work, my friend. 🌹🖤🙏🕯️🐦⬛
So glad that you picked up on that my friend striking and the very essence of the poem that beauty is often marred over time that nothing remains perfect that there are always predators awaiting the chance to steal and devour. Yet it remains a full cycle and spring will come again. So appreciate your insight my friend
Good write SB. Yes, I give that mouldy fruit to KP! Passion Sunday is today - always 2 weeks before Easter.
Thanks so much Orchi I appreciate the review and comment my friend
Yes, she smells the 'passion' of rotting fruit, served up by me! lol.
That is a sweet smell that is why it attracts flies
I prefer Spring to Autumn. One is Life , Renewal.
The other decay and Death.
Fine Poem.
Thank you so much for the read and comment it is deeply appreciated and valued Kevin
I started out feeling this was just lovely but realized it is filled with your typical hard realizations. I mean, "In it only fermented memories are found parasitic bound, bitter to the taste" just sings to me, and lullaby. Almost amorous images tempered by cold facts. As usual, well done.
Thank you so much Dan for your read and understanding words of comment they are deeply appreciated
Nature is so glorious soren in all its differing ways, I love being with Nature.
Andy
Thanks so much Andy I appreciate your read and comment. Yes nature is a wonderous thing.
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