My grandmother always peeled an apple
with grandfather’s penknife, careful,
keeping it all in one piece.
I watched it twirl and curl,
with a whiff of sweetness,
pinched between her fingers.
She taught me a rhyme, that we said every time:
apple peel, apple peel, tell me true,
who am I going to get married to?
It landed on the table, always the same letter;
Grandmother sliced the apple flesh
into halves and pointed to the centre:
there was the shape of an apple blossom inside
like the ones blown away on the day she died.
Kim M. Russell, 1st June 2021
Free image from Pixabay
My poem for dVerse Poets Pub, where I am hosting Poetics: How to Cut a Pomegranate
My prompt was inspired by a poem by Imtiaz Dharker, ‘How to Cut a Pomegranate’, a very personal and intimate narrative, about a moment shared with the poet’s father, and how the magical fruit reminds her of the place of her birth. I love the description of the pomegranate.
The challenge is to think of a fruit, how it looks before and after it has been cut open, and how it tastes, where and how it grows, and what it makes us think of. We can write a poem in the style of Imtiaz Dharker or explore the fruit in another way and in any form we, making sure we appeal to the senses.
Apples seem to be a favorite fruit so far. I love how the memory is tied up to your grandmother’s memory – from the peeling to the rhyming and to the day she died. Lovely personal share Kim. Thanks for hosting!
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Thank you so much, Grace. Apples always remind me of my grandparents.
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Oh, we both went for apples, but I love how you brought back that memory of apples and the process of peeling. That last stanza was really poignant…what a closing.
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Thanks very much, Bjorn. My grandmother died in May over 21 years ago. I still miss her. .
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I love the intimacy of the very personal story you tell here Kim. So warm in the telling and sad in the ending. We used to twist the apple stalk whilst saying the alphabet: whatever letter the stalk broke on would be the initial of your true love!
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Thank you, Ingrid. My apple peel always formed a clear ‘D’, so I thought I was going to marry my granddad, whose name was David. I didn’t realise it meant my David!
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🤣 nice that it was the right name anyway 😊
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🙂
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Your poem made me so curious about whom you wound up marrying! This is so sweet.
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This is gorgeously rendered, Kim! 💝 I love how you associate the memory of grandmother to the apples in these lines; “I watched it twirl and curl, with a whiff of sweetness, pinched between her fingers. She taught me a rhyme, that we said every time,”… the poem in its entirety is both elegant and so very moving. Thank you so much for sharing. 💝
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Thankyou so much for your lovely comment, Sanaa!
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I always try to peel mine like that too—after watching Sleepless in Seattle. ❤
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I’ve never seen that film – now I have to watch it!
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Oh what a bitter sweet poem you’ve written. Such a wonderful memory….and description of the connection between you, your grandmother and the apple. And then the sad but also beautiful ending. I can tell you had a very special relationship with her.
(Seems the apple is a very popular fruit today!)
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Thank you so much, Lill. So many memories are tied to my grandparents, which you’ve probably noticed over the years. 😉
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We had a similar experience with my grandparents. My grandfather had a pocket knife with a buckhorn handle that he kept razor sharp. I could never peel one all the way; butter-fingered I guess.
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I can’t keep the peel intact either, Glenn. But I think it depends a lot on the type of apple.
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My Dad, a Kentish man used to do that too, one of many of my childhood memories.
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This was so tender snd bittersweet Kim – beautiful heartfelt writing!
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Thank you, Rob. She has been on my mind lately.
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Beautifully rendered. I don’t think I ever saw someone peel an apple that way. But it does make me recall my first trip to Japan where all the locals peeled their oranges that way (as opposed the US method of tearing it into a dozen or more pieces).
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Thank you, Ron! I thought peeling an apple in one go was a British thing but it seems people from around the world know it. I’ve never come across oranges peeled in that way – that’s some feat!
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Ohhh. Those last lines are so sweetly sad. Perfectly curled, Kim.
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Smiles 😉
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Sweet and bittersweet. A poignant memory. Thank you.
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Thank you, Xan, for your lovely comment.
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You have just brought me back to my mother’s counter, watching her peel apples in one, unbroken peel, then cut and put them into her pie… Thank you!
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That makes me happy, Dale!
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🙂
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I enjoyed the rhyme and I can picture you singing this song. My grandmother had an apple tree in her backyard.
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Thank you, Trudessa. I still haven’t got the hang of peeling an apple all in one go!
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I enjoyed your poem. My mother learned a similar “game” with apples, only it involves the stem not the peels. You twist the stem while going through the alphabet, and the letter you recite as the stem comes off is the initial, supposedly, of the one you will marry. I still play this apple game. 🙂
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Thank you, Susan. Your apple game is similar but one I’d not heard of. I must give it a go. 😉
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🙂
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Your sharing of a cherished memory with your grandma is appreciated. Makes me think of my own grandma ❤
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Thank you, Lisa! Grandmas are special people. I can’t wait to see Lucas on Sunday and be his grandma for a week!
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❤
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A beautiful poem Kim, to both the apple and to your Grandmother!
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Thank you, Dwight. I’ve been thinking about her a lot lately. I’m eating my breakfast right now: banana, kiwi and grapes with yogurt and granola. Not an apple in sight this morning!
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Great memories for sure!
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A touching reminisce. Caught me unprepared in the last line. 💕
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Thank you, Darius. That line caught me unprepared too.
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you got the tears going with the last line remembering my grandmother. well written
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Thanks so much, Rog. I’m delighted my poem had the desired effect.
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Ah, lovely, Kim. Such immediate memories. I think we were in tune on this one…
and now I will see a blossom as well as a star. Thank you.
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Good morning, Sarah, and thank you! We were definitely in tune. When I was a child, there wasn’t as much choice of fruit as there is these days: apples, pears, bananas, grapes, and tangerines at Christmas. I’m just about to read and comment again after reading the final stave of a Pigeonhole book, Two Women in Rome by Elizabeth Buchan, which I enjoyed, As ever, I will feel bereft until the next one starts. I’m taking my Kindle to Ellen’s for bedtime reading.
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The apple blossom shape inside; how lovely. The final image sadness but this ritual, so fun. A tradition to pass down, and remember each time there’s an apple snack.
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Thank you so much. I often think of my grandmother.
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I like the peeling of the apple ritual and the poem that goes along with it. Grandmothers are always special, aren’t they? 🙂
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Thank you! I hope my grand-mothering skills will be as special as my grandmother’s. 🙂
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Oh, Kim. This is sweet and tender as a ripe apple. I love the cascade from the peeling to welcoming the core. The rhymes made my heart smile and your grandma’s rhyme is cheeky.
These lines:
there was the shape of an apple blossom inside
like the ones blown away on the day she died.
They are soft with acceptance but still almost moved me to tears.
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Thank you so much for close reading and such a lovely comment.
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❤
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Very appealing. I hope there’s some healing there too
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She is always with me.
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Beautiful poem and sentiment. There are so many superstitions with apples, that’s what I love about them. I love the second stanza and the “whiff of sweetness.”
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Thank you, Sunra.
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this is very heart felt kim, filled with character and warmth, both moving and in line with the legacy element of the challenge, very well done.
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Thank you so much for reading and commenting, Philliop.
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Those last two lines are so powerful. Love this!
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Thank you very much!
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Kim.
What a tender poem of love remembered! Apple peeling and apple sweetness wrapped around memories that never fade.
~🕊Dora
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Thank you so much, Dora.
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Your poem is beautiful beyond words … sweet memories, oh so sweet. Love that she peeled in one continuous motion. Did the rhyme come true??
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Thank you, Helen. It came true in the end. 😉
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Love the way you connected the goodness of the apple to the grace of her demise. It makes both occasions to be memorable. Thanks for the prompt Kim!
Hank
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Thanks for joining us, Hank, and the kind comment.
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Love this, Kim! I used to watch with fascination, my grandmother peeling an apple with a knife, round and round with one peel.
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Thank you, Sara!
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Finessing apples is as old as Avalon and Eden — cutting and divination old too, descended to nursery rhyme. It’s a great metaphor for crafting poems and a sweet honor to your grandmother. – Brendan
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Thanks Brendan. It’s one of the things only my grandparents did.
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Best friends represent the purest form of friendships. Your best friend is someone who you might have met yesterday, yet you feel as though you have known him/her forever. And the beautiful thing about best friends is: They understand you in a way that no one else can. They are a blessing from heaven.
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The movement, imagery and visible sound all resonated for me in this poem. It reads and sounds like a living memory.
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My grandfather taught us kids this one too. I cast for the initial then (just that once) and got an E. I went on to marry a Don and then a Bill (Willem) so I figured it was nonsense. Then my last and happiest marriage was to Andrew. By then I had no thought of apple peelings in mind anyway. But just now, reading your poem, it hits me that his first name, which in middle age he stopped using but had always been known by before, was Ewart!
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