Gird your loins and make ready for battle, but be warned, blood may be drawn

The roadside or the parkland, the field or the wood,

Your garden or your neighbour’s, both are just as good.

They scramble over bushes, take footholds, reaching long;

Their roots spread like a virus through the soil and just as strong.


blackberries petalBut summer sees their flowers, so delicate and white

Then soon the petals, like confetti, take to the air in flight;

blackberries greenRevealing small green pellets of undeveloped fruit

Then sun and rain soon swell the clusters of every little drupe.


Until comes time when berries ripe, their plump and darkened flesh,

For creatures feast and birds descend, their beaks and claws do thresh

The berries from their stalks, but humans aren’t so deftblackberries gauze

With skin that rips; the piercing thorns stab hands both right and left.


The gauze, encased with spikes so cruel, envelops every bough,

Then even when you reach the fruit, its own thorns spike you now.

blackberries thornsThey ooze in red from stabbings past, their tips a steely white,

Ready, primed and needle sharp, they’re spoiling for a fight.


And even if you make it through and save your blood and skin,

Beware the hair of trichomes when the nettles burn and sting.

So gird your loins before you go, wear gloves and take a stick,blackberries stinger

Wear boots and coat whatever else protects you from the prick.


But when all’s said and done and you’re home and battle scarred

At least you have your trophy for a crumble or jam jars!


About Sophia Moseley

Freelance Copywriter, Feature Writer and Author. Looking for that illusive job that every working mother craves but surviving, just, on what I can find. My writing and poetry keeps my sane. Watch this space.
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