Beneath the sun's warm embrace, where tropical winds blow,
In lands adorned with beauty, where the mangoes grow,
A sight that paints the senses, a luscious fruit so sweet,
Mangos, golden treasures, a delicacy we eagerly greet.
Oh, mango tree, with branches reaching towards the sky,
Your bountiful offerings, nature's gift, we can't deny,
Amidst the emerald leaves, ripe fruits hang in delight,
A symphony of colors, a tantalizing, mouthwatering sight.
With skins like sunset hues, a radiant blend of gold,
Each mango holds a promise, a story yet untold,
Their fragrance fills the air, a perfume that enchants,
Inviting us to taste the essence, as destiny grants.
In every bite, a burst of flavors, a dance upon the tongue,
Juices dripping down our chins, a moment never unsung,
Sweetness intermingles with a subtle tangy zest,
A sensory explosion, a flavor we attest.
Mangoes, jewels of the tropics, we savor your delight,
In salads, salsas, desserts, or simply pure and bright,
You bring joy to our palates, a taste of paradise,
A fruit so versatile, our love for you will never suffice.
So let us raise a toast to the mango, oh so divine,
A fruit that transcends boundaries, a treasure we enshrine,
In poems and in stories, you'll forever have a place,
Mangos, oh mangos, nature's gift we embrace.
About the Creator
AHSAN
Embark on wild jungle tales, where nature thrives and adventure calls. Explore the untamed wonders, vividly woven through my stories. #JungleLife #Storyteller
Amazon River Is Cursed
I wander through the dark and mysterious night, lost and alone, my heart and soul drained; it was once full of wonder. The world is a dull and faded gray, once so full of beauty, a heart heavy with weariness. But like a beacon shining in the dark, a glimmer of hope appeared. The chance to escape, to break free of my fears. A journey, a quest to return to the magic I once knew. I must reignite the spark. I am once again full of wonder. I find myself in a place full of myth and legend. A place where the Yacuruna roam with their unrelenting power. The guardians of rivers, their secrets, and treasures untold. The place where the unknown lurks and the brave shimmer as gold. I think of the stories of beauty and the might of their ability to lure a victim into their sight. Their power to bring bounty and despair, the capricious figures dreaded beyond compare. I see them as beautiful, alluring beings. As guardians of the rivers, they might be unseeing. I see them use their power and their right. To bring life or to extinguish the darkest night. I think of the rituals and the offerings made. The worship and chant that promise aid. The shamans and healers do them for the respect, the beauty, the curse, and the land.
By Owen Belen3 days ago in Poets
There is a Thin Line Between Tears of Sorrow and Tears of Joy
I remember when my mother passed away. After the tears from the initial shock, our family sat in the living room and shared memories. We talked about her love and compassion toward others, the lessons she taught us about honesty, and how she taught us the importance of respecting ourselves and others. Then we started sharing memories that made us smile and eventually, each of us began to relax and tell stories that made us laugh.
By Brenda Mahler4 days ago in Humor
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