“You can’t cut into an apple
without shining it a bit.”
Grandpa pulled his handkerchief,
polished the heart-shaped fruit
then gave it to me to twist the stem;
our walk along the river’s rim.
He’d grown up by an orchard
hauling carts of seasonal bins.
The golden delicious harvesting season
meant he’d be late for school again.
He’d then take out his pocket knife
and cut us each a perfect slice.
The cool cheesecake flesh,
and the perfect smiling wedge
my teeth could etch-a-sketch.
I’d eat mine like a watermelon,
tossing out the rosy rind.
Poison from our family’s grounds
made Grandpa lose his mind.
He taught me silence
somewhere beneath the apple trees that
will outlive us both.
Patient planter, wisdom-speaker,
thank you, for tending me while I grew.
© khartless 2021, All Rights Reserved
D’Verse’s Tuesday Poetics is hosted by Kim. The challenge this evening is to think of a fruit, how it looks before and after it has been cut open, and how it tastes. Join us.
This poem is about my grandfather who grew up on his family’s apple orchards. He loved apples and sharing wisdom with his grandkids.
Yard Sale of Thoughts 
Well penned. Nice job.
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Thank you. Apples are still a favorite around here, as you know.
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I absolutely loved this piece, K. Excellent! I have an apple orchid right up the road. This poem makes me want to go for a visit. ❤️
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Thank you, Grace. The orchards are lovely year round. A great place to pen some new poetry.
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Absolutely! Thanks for the inspiration.❤️
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What lovely bitter sweet memories.
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Thank you. I never slice an apple without thinking of my grandpa and our walks.
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So fresh and tender and juicy. Just like its subject.
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Glad to have found your blog as well.
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Thank you, kindly. I had a long day yesterday but decided that I still wanted to write to this prompt. I’m so glad I did.
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Yes. It was a fruitful effort…
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🙂
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This is simply lovely. Loved the rhythm and the tender story evoked in the poem AND that photo. All precious. Glad I read. Thanks for sharing.
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Thank you kindly, Selma. It was an easy one as it came straight from the heart. My grandfather had a wonderfully calm presence that I always try to emulate with my own children. He was patient and gentle.
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Apples can be so satisfying to eat. Sorry your grandpa suffered from poison in the land. Your final stanza is poignant and wise.
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Thank you, Lisa. He had inner peace and joy that he found from working the land. I also find this peace when I am in nature. The pomegranate piece made me think of him instantly.
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You’re welcome.
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I love this, especially ‘my teeth could etch-a-sketch’ and the delicate way you describe your relationship with your Grandpa. Sorry to learn of his fate though.
On a technical note, the link to dVerse which you posted in Mr Linky doesn’t link to your poem – I had to click through to your site.
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Thank you, he had Alzheimer’s/dementia. Never fully linked to growing up on the orchard but pesticides were used and remained in the land.
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Grandparents have such an influence on us, don’t they? I love that the grandpa in your poem shines the apple first – mine did that too – and that you included the stem twist – I’m going to try that later! I also love the ‘cool cheesecake flesh, and the perfect smiling wedge’, so tempting, and that your grandpa taught you ‘silence somewhere beneath the apple trees’, something not many children know these days.
I too, had to clcik onto your site to find the poem, Would you like to link up again? I can delete the erroneous one.
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Hi Kim, sorry, I was so exhausted yesterday when I posted this. I must have added the wrong link. Yes, I will add the direct link, If you could please delete the erroneous one. Thank you so much for hosting; I saw the prompt and had to write despite the long day.
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No problem! i’ll check that your new link is up before I delete the old one.
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Simply gorgeous!
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Thanks, Hobbo. Great memories. He was a patient grandfather.
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A lovely tribute to your granddad. I love these lines :-
Patient planter, wisdom-speaker,
thank you, for tending me while I grew.
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Thank you. 🙂
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A heartwarming tale/tribute.
I especially love the imagery of your teeth etch-a-sketch-ing a wedge – cute!
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a delightful poem — the last thing I read before ‘hitting the sack’ — and a loving tribute to granddad 🙂
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Thank you, John. Was tired last pm, but thought, this fruit prompt was just too perfect for this memory that recently surfaced when I saw my son with a handkerchief. I still try to be more like my grandfather-kind and wise.
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Such a heartfelt tribute this is, K. Love the differences on how to eat apple but rounds up to the memories made possible by apples.
the profoundness of your ending is so so good:
He taught me silence
somewhere beneath the apple trees that
will outlive us both.
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Wonderful write!
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I love the tribute… the process of slicing an apple is so different from how I normally eat an apple, but sometimes I like to do it, just to feel the difference.
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Thanks, Björn. There’s something about sliced fruit that feels different, maybe the delay or the delicate cuts. My grandfather had a lot of respect for the apples and enjoyed this ritual.
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This is such a nice tribute to your grandfather and his love for apples!
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Thank you, Dwight. We lived near apple orchards in Virginia. The May blossom and then the harvest. Always lots of apple treats to go around.
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Such great fruit grown in VA. We lived in Harrisonburg many years ago and would go to the orchard to get apples! Sooo good!
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True. Lots of variety in VA and delicious, fresh apples. Miss those home tastes while abroad.
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Yes! for sure!
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Lovely memories, K. Hartless. And a very moving last stanza <3. Kind of an elegy and an ode rolled into one. An elegode 🙂
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Thank you, Sunra. It was good to reminisce and remember these strolls through the orchard.
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I called my grandfather “Pong” … your poem made me cry (in a good way) just the way he did the apple.
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What a delightful nickname for your grandfather. I’m glad you found this poem moving as it was a personal one for me. Felt good to write it and honor him in this small way.
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This is a wonderful and heartfelt write. A memory shared is always sweeter.
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Thank you, Dale.
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🙂
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I love this, especially “the cool cheesecake flesh, and the perfect smiling wedge, my teeth could etch-a-sketch,” and the poignant manner in which you have described the relationship with your Grandpa. I am sorry to learn about his fate though.
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