Apple Children

about an orchard..and children

The fruit trees have not been baptised ;

children`s souls in limbo, in mist

cold green apples hang in the rain

it is a hole in the late afternoon

they have been punished by the battery of the

old priest`s car, hurried steps over wet gravel

Neither heaven nor hell, the rounds of blossom unbroken,

pointless to walk through, should the rain cease.

Reviews

[Ruth]

You have a superb knack of describing in such detail, something I truly admire :)
So well written, I love your work!
xoxo

[quinfinn]

such cryptic and compelling metaphore, sung as a song and well written

[外人 (Gaiji..]

... Original ! Enjoyed it and the original thoughts in this poem, great job !

[Eric Cox]

Nicely created imagery and mysterious feel. Nice pen upon this piece.

[Mark]

Heaven nor hell, rain and blossoms... strong images, I enjoyed the metaphors here. I wonder if it might be stronger to put a ; after 'baptised' in the first line rather than a , ?

Enjoyed it!

[Leslie Philibert]

Thanks Mark, you`re right, I will !

[Ken Simm.]

Insofar as content this is more than about what you say. This is not just another write about mist and mellow fruitfulness. I see many colours in this. So many I think perhaps I could paint it.