green or yellow, indeed a treat,

for friends and fellow, to eat and savour

on hot days weather,

today, tomorrow, forever

will always be a watermelon lover

Sometimes sweet, sometimes sour

Just like our life

Sometimes happy, sometimes sad

Why must the apple?

It's making my life so hard

Learn the theory and take the exam

Oh Isaac Newton, why must the apple

Watermelon the two-faced

Juicy and sweet inside

hard and dull outside

Just like all people

Pretend to be good

But actually bad

Hundreds of nails on it

Nails that could pierce you

Oh, you're naive

There's a trunk and there's a star

The star is dim

Oh, you're naive

Pulverize the star

Split the the dimension apart

Oh, you're naive

The treasure

Gold and shiny

Oh, you're naive

Only the king could pierce you

Only the king owns the treasure

You're naive

It's the king that ace others

The apple, round and softly sweet,
A symbol of the wholesome, neat,
Its curve suggests a balanced core,
A shape that we can all adore.

The pear, with its gentle, tapering line,
Speaks of grace, both soft and fine,
Its wider base and slender top,
Show how bodies twist and drop.

The orange, plump and bold with zest,
Embodies joy, it stands the test,
Its sphere reminds of fullness’ cheer,
Embracing shapes both far and near.

The banana, with its gentle curve,
Suggests the ways our forms can swerve,
A shape that bends and finds its grace,
In every turn and every space.

So let us celebrate these fruits,
And find our forms in their pursuits,
For in each shape, both bold and mild,
We see the beauty of the wild.

-qai

A dance of sweet and sour, pure delight.

Grape, smooth and round, with purple skin so clear,

Juicy burst, a crack that I hold dear.

In strawberries and grapes, I find delight,

Both small, yet their sweet impact feels so right.

Their cutesy form, demure in every way,

Holds fruit possession that no words convey.

With a bunch of strawberries,

Assuming they’re all sweet and fresh

Is the biggest mistake I’ve made.

The first bite tastes lovely,

Reminding me of my happy, joyful life.

An upbeat song plays in my head,

I’m dancing and clapping,

Little did I know what would happen next.

My tongue turns numb,

The second one is like a knife,

Slicing my tongue.

The sourness makes me cry—

Oh no…

I stop expecting.

The third strawberry enters my mouth,

I feel grateful.

It was the last one I had.

I feel happy, not overjoyed.

I learn my lesson:

Not to place any expectations on life.

I close my eyes to sleep,

And my day continues.

Of the precious old days, so bright and happy,

The sweetness brings me back to those memories,

Memories that can last me centuries.

A bowl full of mangoes, cold and tender

Brought with two palms, warm and familiar

The comfort it brings, oh I could never

Dad I miss you more than ever.

Banana is love

Bananas are only wanted for their flesh

Banana peels are thrown away because it's trash

Bananas put in smoothies are overpowering

Bananas also help with pooping

Bananas can grow lots from a single tree

Bananas can be ripe faster in an enclosed place

Such is the banana.

Colourful or monocolour

Big, small, medium

Different variations from different genes

Just like humans

Some humans are like cherry

Petite but shiny

Some humans are like durians

Hard to get but sweet inside

Some humans are like watermelon

Big but fragile

Fruits and humans

We are alike

It is what fruit we choose to eat

It is what fruit we became

The small red fruit everyone adores,

I hope I never see it another day,

The small red fruit at the store

Juicy, succulent and so very ripe,

It's burst of colour a memorable sight,

Ive never really understood the hype,

A fruit I find more of a blight

Various desserts,dishes and snacks,

Uses this fruit so disgusting I can't,

I wish I could just smack,

Everything about this damn plant

Why such spite you must wonder,

What did a fruit ever do to you,

With this I give you just one answer,

Strawberries suck without argue.

Oh, Durian, you thorny beast,

Your scent so strong, no need for a feast.

In markets, you sit, a king on a throne,

While passersby wrinkle their noses and groan.

Yet, brave souls who dare to ignore the smell,

Find a flavor of heaven inside your spiky shell.

A paradox fruit, both loved and maligned,

In your contradiction, a fan club we find.

My grandmother's laughter was the sweetest of all.

Her hands, weathered, gently peeled the thorny skin,

Revealing the fruit, soft and white within.

We’d sit together beneath the shade,

Sharing moments in the memories we made.

Her stories flowed like rivers deep,

As we savored the fruit, the love we'd keep.

Now, when I taste that familiar bite,

I feel her presence, warm and bright.

Though she’s gone, her love still grows,

In every rambutan, her memory shows.

Her garden’s gone, but in me it blooms,

In every fruit, her laughter resumes.

A taste of rambutan, a tear, a smile,

Bringing her back to me, if only for a while

He was a jovial joyful teen

He begins his day by eating a mango

He ends his day by dancing a tango

One day he decided to change

He swapped his mango for an orange

His face turned red like a cherry

And then he started to worry

He then seeked an orang utan

To obtain a magical rambutan

Eventhough he was very demure

He bravely ate the rambutan for a cure

He then went back

And the next day, he gave a comeback

He then decided forever

To never swap his mango whenever

Where every day bears fruit from the tree.

Some are sweet, like the joy we hold dear,

Others are bitter, grown out of fear.The apple of youth, so crisp, so bright,

Bites of adventure under morning light.

Peaches of love, with soft, tender skin,

Hide a heart’s pit, where truth lies within.Lemons of hardship, sour and bold,

Teach us that wisdom is worth more than gold.

And grapes of friendship, clustered and close,

Remind us that laughter is what matters most.Life’s a harvest of flavors, both new and old,

Each bite a lesson, each story told.

So gather your fruits, whatever they be,

And savor the orchard, for you hold the key.

Round like the womb of an expecting mother,

Blood spills out of them,

Like the red juice that stained Persephone's hands.

As I pluck your seeds that seem to never end,

One by one,

You might just represent,

God's charity towards his men.

Though while eating you I make a mess,

But your taste I can't resist,

Perhaps that's why even the Goddess of spring,

Could accept being the underworld's queen.

No one even dare to bite

Although both are still spiky

One chooses rose more likely

A knife cuts through the hardened shell,

Revealing gold, a treasure well.

Its scent so strong, some hearts enthrall,

Yet others find no love at all.

Hard its husk, but soft its flesh,

A fragrance bold, so rich, so fresh.

In many places, banned from staying,

Yet still, it reigns—the king, unwavering

Your fragrance is oh strong!

You sit on the table, looking so sweet,

But open you up, and the neighbors retreat!

"Is it a gym sock? A garbage bin?"

Nope—it’s just durian, smelling like sin!

Yet some brave souls, with noses held tight,

Say, "It’s delicious! A creamy delight!"

Just like my dad

He said "You must not eat it with wine."

Why tell me?

It's not like I am going to try :)

From the tree, plucked from my mother

No chance to bid goodbye

No idea where to head

At last, I was given to the teachers by their students

At last, I was bought by a house maker for her daughter as companion during hard studies

At last, I was in the trash

A boy said “This apple is bitter” only after a bite

Not knowing I am sweet all over

So what differ me and fruits?

Still got no chance to bid goodbye

Still got no idea where to head

Would i be given?

Would i be bought?

Would i be trashed?