Poems about blackberries


№ 1156030

Blackberries bursting

You burst blackberries between
Your fingers. blue juices, sweet somehow,
Drip down the curve of your wrist, bleed
Like ink over the soft lines of the palm,
Skin-colored fortune tellers. the spilled
Blackberries leave letters in their ink-paths
Here; perhaps an anagram of my name.
Now sun calls you daughter. she nursed
You in her light-womb, watched history
Unfold on earth like a crane stretching
Its feathers. dropped you like a blessing
And brought the first sunset, beckoning sky's
Cotton-candy pinks, sugar-coated cream,
Freshly-squished blackberry colours. dancing
Down your hands still, sweet, saccharine
Ink; all earth's berry bushes stretch their
Twig-arms toward you. the apple trees
Call you sister, pick you bouquets of
Honeysuckle. sun warmed their blossoms,
They say. their smell is smooth and sugared,
Melting in your rosy-fingered hands,
Like soft slices of daybreak, snippets of
Syrupy dawn. you are eve now, stretching
Bare skin in twilight, opening love-laden palms to
Blooming bushes of roses, plucking them from
Their stems like petal-coated candies; the apex of
Nature, zenith of earth's creatures. a thousand
Years wax and wane; beyond the limits of time,
You are one with sky, all the sweet seconds in
History condensed. you pop a blackberry
Into your mouth, delicate ink-skin bursting.

blackberries,  bursting.

Author: gc
Date: 18/02/2020

№ 1071896

Gathering Blackberries - for Jack

I thought I was in Heaven
When I was just seven.
It was never too late
To stand behind the gate and wait
To gather blackberries.

So I was in desperate pursuit
Of the hidden fruit
Lovely, sweet and ripe
No need to wash or wipe
Gathering blackberries.

Now it was always said
"Why are your books red"
I thought she meant read.
It was the juice
A true excuse
Oh to gather blackberries.

blackberries,  gathering,  jack.

Author: cheryl love
Date: 03/12/2019

№ 1051436

Picking Blackberries

When I was young, my grandmother would tell me stories
About her grandparents.
There were stories about the origins of the universe.
Legends that connected me to my world.
Embedded in the stories were admonitions to live a worthy life.
Sometimes, when I walk out with my daughter to pick berries,
I think about those lessons. . .

Mama, we have to pick all the blackberries so the bugs don't get any. . .

There's plenty of berries for you, me, and the beetles, baby girl.

I don't like the beetles. See that one?

Where? Oh, look how beautiful and shiny his wings are. . . the beetle respects us. We should respect the beetle.

What about the birds? Do we have to share with them?

Plenty of berries for them, too.

But, why, mama?

Because we are supposed to share with others. Don't eat so many, there won't be any left in the bucket.

I only eat the ones I pick. . .

Alright, girl.

Mama. . .?


Do you want to pick blackberries by yourself now?

Are you wanting to go and play? Go on, then, baby girl.

blackberries,  picking.

Author: Emily B
Date: 15/11/2019

№ 1023128

Apples and Blackberries

My mobile screams
Its Taylor Swift " I wished it was me"
Wake up folks its 6 am
Let's face another hectic day
Another day of terror and challenge
Unlike the good old days
When life was even simpler
When mobiles were not a necessity
But communication still exists
In close knit families
Life was even greater
When smartphones and computers
Were gadgets of the future
Still relationships went on smooth and happier
Life was even lovelier
When Apples and Blackberries
Were merely fruits
For juices and desserts.
But still we need to strive
To face another day
In this concrete jungle
And adapt our life...

apples,  blackberries.

Author: Sharina Saad
Date: 20/10/2019

№ 998927

Hidden Blackberries

There was a place where a light wind blew
And swished away the leaves,
Pushing past the great, exposing the new,
Meandering through the trees.
A place where many trod but few could see.
Where all had been and come to pass
But more than often leave.
Considered by none, walked on by many,
This place was no ones first time,
A venue so guilty of mass interception,
Now a place that is momentarily mine.
Fingers sweetly stained, ripe for a licking,
Bushes bow to greet, the artist who is picking.
Carefully placed signs to protect outsider intrusions,
No handprints or footprints in sight.
All access not granted, made more appealing
By the unmasked blanket of night.
Bowed branches hung slightly,
Not tampered, cut or blown.
This dwelling reserved for nobodies pleasure,
Leaving the lost be unknown.

blackberries,  hidden.

Author: Lilly Gibbons
Date: 28/09/2019

№ 751919


I see a path at
The end of a road, hidden by
Thickets of blackberries about
To blossom through the night
Where shadows veil their violet colors,
Those blushing, berry brides.


Author: Sarah Richards
Date: 16/02/2019

№ 733710


Blackberries, fat with summer rays,
Burst sure and true, like ocean waves
Against my tongue they carry too
The scent, the touch, the taste of you.

Each bramble stripped with greedy hands
Felt no qualm from scarlet brands
Those such marks would wash away but
Stains of you will still remain.

The scratches heal, I'll brush away
Those nettle prongs that stick and stay
I'll brush the bracken, soothe the sting
But thoughts of you will always cling.

Those onyx beads, their shiny spheres
Imbued with Sunshine, wet with tears;
The taste is fading from my mouth
Their waves of sweetness drawing out.


Author: Sarah Spang
Date: 31/01/2019

№ 589558


Who let you in
Who let you back
Where've you been

You used to sit around
With your feet in the weeds
I used to love you
Now you're on my hands

You left me for brighter stars
Parties with nothing to do
I'd look away
I wanna be around people like you

I don't think I mind if you don't
You sat in the blackberries
Now you have briers at your throat

I built my shadow up from dirt
So you'd know where I'm from
If I fell and kissed the ground
At least I know you'd still come

I like to sit and wait around
For what you want and what you do
I'm the thorn in your finger
I wanna be with people like you

You stood out on the porch
You let your lungs go wild
I don't eat the fruit since you left
Because you're the prodigal child

If you wanna be replaced
You can
If you wanna be replaced
You can
If you wanna be replaced
You can


Author: bri mylyn
Date: 22/09/2018