Poems about pears


є 1157749

Study of Two Pears

Opusculum paedagogum.
The pears are not viols,
Nudes or bottles.
They resemble nothing else.

They are yellow forms
Composed of curves
Bulging toward the base.
They are touched red.

Having curved outlines.
They are round
Tapering toward the top.

In the way they are modelled
There are bits of blue.
A hard dry leaf hangs
From the stem.

The yellow glistens.
It glistens with various yellows,
Citrons, oranges and greens
Flowering over the skin.

The shadows of the pears
Are blobs on the green cloth.
The pears are not seen
As the observer wills.

pears,  study.

Author: Wallace Stevens
Date: 19/02/2020

є 1082623

Cherries and Pears

I don't know when but one day past,
I preserved our love so it would last.
Jars of cherries and pears line the case
Our love hidden in its secret place.

Over time the room grew musty,
I used the pears and cherries thusly,
I left the room dim and quiet
Then soon forgot what I left inside it.

After weeks or months or years,
I find myself searching again in here.
I've forgotten what I lost,
But I will find it at any cost.

In a nook, I spot a single jar
Hidden in dust as thick as tar,
I approach it slowly without fear
Recalling now what I stored here.

I wiped the grunge and twisted the cap
Stopped a moment, taken aback.
Our love escaped and dissipated
I grab the air as if to save it.

I throw the grimy jar to the ground,
Burn it to guarantee it won't be found.
I close the room and turn the lock,
My wooden heart begins to knock.

I light a match and don't look back
Gasoline drowns the past.
The pears and cherries are now homeless
Thrown to the street without notice.

cherries,  pears.

Author: KM
Date: 13/12/2019

є 1080618


It is Thursday
When you go to the store
Declaring your identity in the world again
You have always been hungry
Now your stomach is too

The store is flooded
With white light, except the produce section
Which has dim yellow lights
Wood floors and black tables
Where you squeeze each pear

Remember that Sunday
Your bed was an island
You thought about
Calling out from work,
Thought about the boy
Next to you, still holding
Your hand while he was sleeping

The green pears
Only come in organic
Cost a little more and
Probably taste the same as

Two weeks later he picks you up
To wander around that big apple like worms
Drinking coffee and talking about
How useless is the penny
How you both never need change

The brown pears
That are much cheaper
Because they aren't as bright
But they must be just as juicy as

Drinking vodka infused with mint and cherry
In the theatre parking lot вАУ you
Complain about missing the previews
Laugh about how you would have
Kissed through them anyway

Canned pears
That never rot
Floating in their tin coffin
With their skin already peeled

You take down every photo
T-shirt, sticker, love-letter
But not the driftwood
He found and gave to you
During that first walk together

You don't pick the green, brown, or
Canned вАУ deciding you want
Any other fruit


Author: Amber Melissa Turkin
Date: 11/12/2019

є 944282


I watch my hands wrinkling,
While her fingers gather length.
I have shared my fruit.

I press

The moment won't
Let me stay.
I can only keep the negatives.

There is never enough time is never enough.


Author: Tara Ewer
Date: 10/08/2019

є 906185

If Apples Were Pears

If apples were pears
And peaches were plums
And the rose had a different name.

If tigers were bears
And fingers were thumb,
I'd love you just the same.

apples,  pears.

Author: Anne Krysllene Kho
Date: 06/07/2019

є 886309


When I'm awake, I dream of pears.
I like to think of anjou pears because they remind me of the french word for jewels: bijoux.
I don't have a preference for red or green, I just dream of soft pears.


Author: Jacqueline P
Date: 18/06/2019

є 786953

I eat my pears with a knife instead

Interpersonal relations strewn across the nation,
Across my the country of my bedroom floor.
My sticky palms give me shaky qualms
As I feel too exposed and shudder

Cluttered and muddy, my mumbling mind speaks
In fragile fragments secured by black brackets.
Memories linger, held fast to my fingers
To help me remember what I want to forget

Why, or what, can you do that I can't?
Speaking slowly in a voice with a slant
I'll tear up and down what "it's" "supposed" to be,
If you'll pay for my presence with an bi-weekly fee.

eat,  knife,  pears.

Author: glass can
Date: 20/03/2019

є 623222


We met over 40 years ago. Floating buttocky halves
Spooned into pastel fruit bowls, even drowned in
Del Monte syrup, love at first taste. Your flesh

A luminous hue, hovering on the border of cream
And August skies; your flavor pure as dreamed pleasure
Grazing my waking tongue, a melting sweetness

Streaming down my throat; your name, a single syllable
Promising delight: pear, barely sound, mere parting of lips,
And hint of breath, apple-green p, the sweetest

Diphthong ea, all the air in the world, closed in rounded rrвАШd
Finality. A perfect word, reducing your rumpled, pinnacled
Self, to one gorgeous, Old English syllable: per.

Right now, six of you sit ripening on my windowsill.
A sky-blue towel shields bottoms against further bruising
From the wood even at birth you instinctively flee, hanging

Off trees in swelling green-gold tears, yearning for earth,
Or growing to maturity in bottled, olive-green light, your dying
Breath suffusing aging liqueurs like the oldest I ever drank,

The summer I was 19, a century-old brandy served in snifters
The likes of which this working-class boy had never seen.
I tilted the giant crystal bowl; the fragrant liquid elongated

In mimicry of its remembered self and seeped into my mouth: a pear's
Ghost enveloped in flame lay down to rest on my tongue. We both
Were saved, at least for that night. Pear. Look of women I love

But don't lust after, I want to conjugate you: I pear, you pear,
We pear. Like raspberries, Mozart and love, for me, sufficient proof
Of God's existence. I trust you. Lead me by the tongue to heaven.


Author: Steve Turtell
Date: 22/10/2018