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 --

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 --

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. --

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

              Orchard            Sounds

        Birds singing     Wind in the trees
      Leaves rustling     Sheep talking
      Birds gossiping     Bees buzzing
        Cows mooing     Drilling 
       Birds cheeping      Soft breeze
         Birds flapping     Pigeon cooing
     People breathing     Calmly 
        A tree yawning     A pencil scraping 
My tummy rumbling    Sheep running
    Branches swaying    An apple falling
-- Denise Powell --

My dad and my mum
They love plums
But my friends and I
Love apple pie.

Apples so sweet
Apples so sour
Apples so easy to devour

First the blossom white
Then the skin that hugs the apple tight
After fall upon the floor
For me to eat good and more.

Fit for grannies, grandad's too
Also fit for me and you
Little children just want more
Because they are in apple galore

When the winter starts to come
We are scrabbling for the last one
But when the apples have gone
At least we have Christmas to come
-- Annabel Dukes --

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