Butleigh - Harvest
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 --

The sweet taste of Spartan in your mouth,
The farmers putting the apples in the tub,
The carpet of pomace in the wheel barrow.

The barrels of cider in the back room
And also the perry calm and still
All the cider eventually goes into the shop
-- Jack Tucker --

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. --

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 !
Trees streaked with cider apples
Some bitter sweet or sour
Some are really horrible
And some we can devour
Apples swinging in the trees
They swing because they are in the bree4ze
Branches falling in the storm
Apple pickers on their knees.
-- Archie Churchill-Moss --

Blue skies shining, reflecting on apples
The sun will occasionally
Hide behind the cloud making everything silent
But when it comes out to shine
You can feel the warmth on your face
And the shine in your hair
Every minute you will see
An odd apple fall onto the long wet grass
Making a rustle until it is picked up.
By a child and eaten
Or turned into cider
-- Eloise Harris --

              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 --

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