Butleigh - Harvest
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 --


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 --


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 --


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 fit for all of us to eat
Only eat them when they are ripe
Crunching apples spotted and dappled
Wet grass dewy grass
The dew is just like glass
Rosy red green and striped
Only eat them when they are ripe.
-- Emily Corfield --


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. --


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 --



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