Blood red seeds in savoured juice.

Stains with pith can get profuse.

The critical point is the bursting through.

Ripeness. Sweetness. Morning dew.

 

Patience is the pomegranate’s pressure.

Waiting forever… to bring forth pleasure.

Never wasted…the pressure of patience.

Ripening sweetness… always voracious.

 

The leather skin holds down fruit force.

The pressure rising to its course.

Free at last, the bloodied seeds.

Fulfilled of sweetness… ripeness bleeds.

 

 

© The Secret Poetess, April 2017

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