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David Lester Young

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Member Since: Nov, 2001

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Books
· The Point Of The Grave

· Sedro Woolley 3 to 5

· Sedro Woolley Chap 1 to 2


Poetry
· MAGA House Keeping Upkeep And Landscaping

· America Politician

· Majestic Aristocrat Governing Autocracy 1 to 6

· See Shore WAKE

· In GOD Bless America

· Heavy HeART

· P O E T R Y

· Dye Destiny

· It IS ALL About YOU

· Carry Thee Home

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Rolling Blueberries

by David Lester Young — Read all 1,103 poems by David Lester Young

Got out of the room, womb, tomb, to get hot dogs and Zero Cherry out of refrig. I went for some more Zero Cherry, and blueberries started dancing all over the floor; left, right, front, back bouncing rolling everywhere blue berry balls.

They were just everywhere, while the raspberries were tipped, they clung, and did not fall, from just bought stacked berry containers, it was that kind of Merry Berry Holiday prancing blues greeting.

So to get over the blues, what do poets dew, but imagine ink stains writing pounding frustrations keyboards into submission.

Have a very Merry Berry Chistmas, alight blue berries dancing around a lively blue melody tune.

Friday, December 10, 2021


Poem Artwork

Rolling Blueberries


Be kind of hum drum - falling blue day
Blue berry balls, running all the floor
Going right, left, under refrig - feet
Well every wear, must watch them blues
Or would be stamping, upon fine whine.

You know dye kind, gurgling numb press bound
Somewhere from heaven, to pure pulp hell ground
Blueberries, blueberries, and raspberries ripe red
Being persnickety, bye staying spilled upon shelve
Oh shelve, oh shelve, why did thee fail me, sew.

Naught is not life, a merry berry, with grapes of wrath
Fruit salad concoctions, adding just bought raspberries
Watching bouncing blueberries float upon cleansing water
What is this, I see hiding from thee eyes, come here darling
 I got a warm bath baptismal, dismal day, rub a dub waiting.

This season for Merry Berry Christmas - bouncing balls
Some pressed dew offer an intoxicating bouquet aromas
Where Lucy, did step on comedy blues, between her toes
Berry, berry; I know you are still there, ready to roll out
Wow, there you are, no that is a passing grape Lucy, -

Somehow left behind, in a Comedy routine comedy. 
So that; here, there, over there, over yonder dale dance
You have a fruit salad, jumping around, a refrig blues day.
Oh prune do not fall, I do not have to go quite yet. 
Butt maybe upon another day’s blueberries deposit.

THS 1966 Poet

 

 



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Reviewed by Ronald Hull
Reviewed on December 11, 2021
A wonderful departure from your usual. A little tragedy that turned into a fine poem, paralleling some of your grievances in a humorous way.

Daily while attempting to eat my lunch of vegetables and fruit, some eventually find their way to the floor. And then I spend the rest of the day trying to keep the wheels of my wheelchair from smashing them. Blueberries are particularly onerous because their blue juice stains so brightly.

This morning I had blueberry pie again from a gift pie that won't go away. It is overly sweet and is going sugary in the refrigerator, crunching like eating raw sugar as I try to get rid of one of my favorite fruit pies. I mourn getting fat and more useless as a result, but don't want it to go to waste while it's going to my waist. ;-)

Ron

Reviewed by T. Wignesan
Reviewed on December 11, 2021
Hi David! You are here having an intoxicating ball with words and imagery, their denotations and connotations - some though cryptic but dancing wildly to the inner rhythm - that would make a Dylan Thomas or even an Ezra Pound (I know you are patriotic enough to scoff at the reference) somewhat envious but nevertheless admirative at the facility with which you roll them out. Me? I wonder to what heights yet you might climb, provided you don't unnecessarily banish some affective or non-intentional purpose from your inebriating lines. Bravo!

ALL THE VERY BEST OF THE SEASON and A MOST REWARDING POETIC YEAR FOR YOU AND YOUR KIN!!! Wignesan


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