The time is right
for blossom now
in June but here
I’m left
to cup my hand
around your wrinkled
curvature
to sense the substance of the seasons
passing
in your sustenance.
I listen for the bumblebee
pollinating apple bloom,
while sensing
in the summer nectar
where you once was born.
I kiss your aging skin
and know how deep within
your flesh is sweeter
than it’s ever been, you the last
the best,
the perfect winter apple
left.
I close my eyes
to let my teeth sink in
and rip your skin,
your flesh indulged;
let the past years juices
fill my mouth,
please, O please miss bumblebee,
sip the orchid’s nectar
again and once again.
Gustave Courbet
Today Kim hosts dVerse with a prompt on fruits inspired by the poem “How to cut a pomegranate” by Imtiaz Dharker. I think as I have grown older there is no fruit I love more than the apples from Sweden. I wish I had an apple tree, but I could actually buy apples until the last few weeks. Now I have to wait for them until the fall.
June 1, 2021
Björn Rudbergs writings 
Very beautiful!
How delicious those apples are. Here is wishing all the bees will sip the nectar for a round of apple blooms and fruits again. Yummy juices Bjorn!
How gorgeous!!!
I love, love, love the line break after “wrinkled.” It makes me see “rink-led,” which of course makes me think of remembering/seeing the skating-rink girl you fell in love with, not the aging lady. I firmly believe we’re all 17 forever inside. ❤
This is a deliciously sensuous poem Björn!
‘I kiss your aging skin
and know how deep within
your flesh is sweeter
than it’s ever been’
– sometimes the apples which last the longest taste the sweetest, just like love!
Great minds again – we’re appling this time! Our apple blossom has gone already and I too have to wait for autumn for the trees to produce fruit. I love the image of the ‘wrinkled curvature’, the internal rhyme of substance/ sustenance, and these evocative lines:
‘I close my eyes
to let my teeth sink in
and rip your skin,
your flesh indulged;
let the past years juices
fill my mouth’.
The apples in the Courbet painting look beautiful and sweet.
This is exquisitely drawn, Bjorn 😀 I especially love; “I kiss your aging skin and know how deep within your flesh is sweeter than it’s ever been, you the last the best, the perfect winter apple left.” Also, the artwork by Gustave Courbet is an excellent accompaniment! 💝💝
Well this is a delectable post! I love your description of the aging apple. And then the passion rises in the final stanza. (Apples are popular today.)
Oh, what an ode to that last, loved, apple
Washington state is apple country, but the largest sweetest apples are single-wrapped and sent to the east coast. The farmers laugh, for our stores sell us the culls they would feed to their livestock. You rocked the prompt, wonderful word-smithing (already noted).
So much to tantalize the senses here, B. Well done.
Very pretty. Somehow, I like your plea to the bumblebee. 🙂
Oh that was wonderful Björn. I wish I had an apple tree, too.
This is a delicious poem filled with sensuality. Hopefully, the bumblebee hears you wish.
My grandmother had an apple tree in her backyard and as a kid, I would hang upside down and walk on the clouds.
I now want to be compared to a winter apple and feel as luscious and earthy as your words.
I *love* your ode to the last apple. My favorite is the 3rd stanza. ::sighing::. I’m sure only the sweetest apples become cider. Raising a glass to you. Cheers.
Actually, Lisa, cider apples are really sour. It’s the alchemy of fermentation that brings out the sweetness.
🙂
Wonderful Bjorn. I love the alliteration of course, and the idea of the old apple is great. I don’t think I’ve had an apple from storage, as such. Certainly not one with wrinkled skin
Cheering on the bees with you! Our apples have been over for a while now – it’s so damp here, it’s hard to store them. Next year’s crop is set, though. I like your description of the winter apple, like a fading lover.
Wonderful. I particular liked; “I kiss your aging skin
and know how deep within
your flesh is sweeter”
I definitely personified those lines.
Sensuous and the way your horde last winter’s batch as if it is irreplaceable and irreproducible as so many memories and experiences are. Wonderful.
gaaaaah. how you froze and delay and lengthen each second with this perfect apple is amazing to me. I love the promise of the next batch, thanks to the bumblebees!
Gorgeous poem! I love the first and third stanza especially 🙂
true story, half way thru this poem i had to go get an apple, thank you. very well written and effective.
Ravishing poem, effectively transcending past, present and future in a sensual amalgam of the taste, beauty, and texture of a winter’s apple. Love too the exquisite self-awareness of the persona, an enjoyment in the composition of the apple climaxing in the poetic artistry,
~🕊Dora
Bjorn, this is exquisite poetry. Lush to the core.
Love the way you created the connection and trace the beginnings with the bees and the end when succulent flesh fills the tummy. Wonderful write Bjorn!
Hank