Butleigh - Harvest
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 --

Cider orchards are nice, apples are sweet
Apples being squashed and squished
Underneath the apple press
Beautiful tasting apple juice
That comes from the tree
That grows the apple
That gets squished.
That makes the sweet apple juice
That makes you say mmmmmm.

Apple juice is bought
Then drunk right down
Everyone's happy
-- Emily Corfield --

The apple press is where the apples go
From the tall trees where they grow
The amount of apples get wider and wider
But soon they will not be apples
They will be juice
Dripping down into a glass
Dribbling down the side so fast
Now the time to take a sip
All this from an apple pip.
-- Chloe Cheyne --

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 !
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 --

The rosy red apple hanging waiting for
Its time to fall and lying on the ground.
Some sweet and some not found
The biggest apple on the tree
Soon to be picked by me.

The smallest apple on the tree
Waiting for its time to grow
When its time has come
It will fall. Its fall will seem like forever
It will go through changes
The changes will seem like this
It will fall, go through the green wet dewy grass
When it comes to the bottom it will hit the ground
Waiting so silently, oh so silently to be found.
-- Georgina O'Neill --

Mine's rubbish
As I click my fingers
Dabinett sweet and sour
Apples falling by the hour
Apples swaying side to side
Waves of apples like the tide
That's all
-- Alfie Lee. --

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