Butleigh - Harvest
Hi I'm the pip
Called Pippa
Sigh. Nobody likes me
They throw me away
But then again
I am the one who makes the tree
But I'm never used,
Like the tree itself
Sheep's respect it,
Scratch them selves on it
Wait a moment
Someone is pressing
My apple, my house
My beautiful rosy red house
But somehow I'm relieved
I am tasteless
So they won't press me anyway
Pip Pip Hooray
-- Julia Sheills --


Carpets of apples disappear
Our feel of loss is really quite sheer
Love which is lost is loved much more
Each apple is eaten right down to the core
By horses, by cattle by people by sheep
An apple fills my belly before I go to sleep
-- Julia Sheills --


Apples Ouch as the rosy red apple drops on my head
I picked it up and took a bite
Was it from a Stoke Red or maybe a Yarlington Mill
I don't know
Everyday an apple falls ready for someone to eat
The sweet cider smell
Maybe sweet maybe sour
Maybe creamy maybe dry
Green or red spheres
The old manual mixer turning silently
Cox Russet Jona gold
Slowly being squeezed
Slowly being turned into liquid
Get ready for the apple delight
-- Luke Holman --


Group Poems
Different apples on streets of trees
Carpets of apples
Crunching under my feet
Apples red, sour and sweet
Fit for all of us to eat
Rosy red apples
Waiting for its time to fall
Apples tempting, must have more
Falling bouncing once
Blue skies shining, reflecting
Apples cuddling the grass and bedding down
Bitter sweet and sour
Grass littered with apples
Apples red and apples green
Ever so sweet and ever so clean
Waves of apples like the tide
Apples falling like parachutes
I am the seed that grows the tree
That grows the apple
That grows me.
Pip Pip Hooray !
1,000 apples or more
Ready waiting in the store
Waiting for the bag to be
Poured into the machinery

Lying waiting for my death
My life will be from me theft
Then I am cut into little pieces
Its seems the squishing never ceases

Sharp knives stab me
Now I am in a sheep's belly
The path begins to bend
I am out of a sheep's back end

Then after 20 years or so
A nice tree begins to grow
And on this lovely tree
Is a slightly newer me.

Then I am picked by some men
And put in sack to eat again
That is the life of me
An apple from an apple tree.
-- Annabel Dukes. --


Apples are lovely, apples are sweet
Apples dropping at my feet
Alas there is a single sour
In each there is immense power
-- Julia Sheills --


Carpets of apples
In the streets of trees
A city, a town, a village
Full of colour blending with the sky

At Hecks
Varieties of apples
Sinking in the tub
Of modern machinery
Apple foam flushing out
Noises and vibrations now combine
To make to some apple juice of mine
-- Jack Gane --



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