ON THE YOUNG MANS BALD
EYES BLACK AS
NIGHT STARED INTO
FRONT OF HIM
PATHS WHERE THE
CHILDREN HAD ROLLED
THREE BALLS OF SNOW MUCH EALIER THAT VERY DAY.
PATCHES OF GREEN GRASS
STUCK THROUGH PACKED
IN THE MIDDLE OF HIS FACE
A CROOKED CARROT POINTED TOWARD
THE HOUSE WHERE CHILDREN SAT LOOKING
OUT THEIR WINDOW AT THEIR NEW FOUND
FRIEND. HIS BUTTON MOUTH SHAPED FOR
HIM TO LOOK HAPPY SEEMED TO SMILE
AT THEM AS THEY STARTED TO BLOW
KISSES AT THEIR WONDERFUL
Written by Brenda Meier-Hans
Copyright © Brenda Meier-Hans | Year Posted 2014
Sparkling snowflakes were falling around
Making a thick blanket on the ground
The lights on the Christmas trees
Twinkling brightly in the breeze
Carol singers sang a Christmas song
People around joined in the throng
Their lanterns casting a golden glow
Their shadows dancing in the snow
Two excited children were ready for bed
Having left food for the reindeer's and Santa to be fed
They’d left their stocking by the tree
Their eager eyes sparkled with glee
Hoping the stockings would be filled with gifts and toys
They put in their letter they’d been good girls and boys
Tommy had asked Santa for a shiny new bike
The red one in the shop was the one he would like
Ella asked for a new doll and a pram that was white
The thought of it made her eyes shine with delight
They sleepily climbed the stairs to their room
Through the curtains they saw the light of the moon
Soon they both were fast asleep
They slept so soundly there was not a peep
In the morning they bounced out of bed
Wondering if Santa and the reindeer's had been fed
Bits of straw and carrot peel lay on the hall floor
Their mouths dropped open in wonder and awe
The living room door was slightly ajar
Santa has visited on his trip from afar
Their stockings bulged with gifts and toys
Santa had kept his promise to these good girls and boys
Copyright © JAN ALLISON | Year Posted 2014
a giant crystal wind chime spread its tone
teeth of icicles consumed a home
misted rain encased fence posts and rail
power lines succumb to winter’s weight and fail
vehicles in free style pirouettes
slide beneath the curtain call of white
taunted by the feigned applause of wind
stinging critic of a dance that will not end
children do the snow day dance of glee
parents know how long this day will be
until the child that lives within them all
makes and throws the season’s first snowball
streets await the toothbrush of the plow
snow men don old hats and carrot nose
angels in the snow cold trumpets blow
to celebrate the day everything froze
John G. Lawless
Copyright © John lawless | Year Posted 2014
Nothing more than a pretty smile - repost
There she was chasing a rabbit
with 1 am coffeecakes and weak tea
She didn’t notice I was watching
from the branches of an olive tree
A lone smile hidden amongst
swirling smoke rings in a foreign accent
To the gazebo she ran
with its straw grass tables
and pleated cushions in hibiscus
print fabric no one would sit on
My eyes followed her as she
darted around manicured boxwoods
and cherub statues spitting water
onto sleeping lily pads,
following the same schedule
as the other…identical
She came upon a dandelion
and asked politely, “Pardon me,
but have you seen a…”
The weed interrupted,
“Didn’t…don’t do drama dreams
dancing deliriously down
donut distracted ditches”
“That’s dumb” she replied
with a giggle and a snort
This must be her fun, I think,
trying to catch a white ball of fur,
big, then small,
then smaller still like a
thimble seeking a thread,
when now she is stopped
in her ziggy zagging tracks
by a June bug singing,
“I see, I see, in front of me
Dessert, dessert, set out for free
A chocolate pie, a chocolate pie
in menus written on the sky”
Perplexed she climbed upon its back
and flew, holding onto
red leather shoulder pads
with black dots changing shapes,
ducking winged arches that
covered the vestibule they
soared through when a sharp turn
pitched her to the opposite side…
Landing with a thud,
her new dress now soiled
between the wrinkles in time
that had ticked away
on a clock faced sun named Ray
She cried carrot tears,
orange sherbet streams
on peach tone cheeks,
and mango miscues
piddling on her patent leather shoes,
ready to give up
When it appeared, hopping happily
Jumping into her lap
and licking her face
She caressed its fur, removing
sticker burs and scratching
just the right spot, as its right rear leg
thumped with joy
Then lifting the bundled bunny
to her face, she kissed it tenderly
with wild cherry gloss lips,
or should I say…kissed me
for you see, all along, it was me
And you thought I was nothing more than a pretty smile…..
Note: This is a repost of a poem I posted on soup when I first arrived. Not many saw it at the time. I read an Alice in Wonderland themed poem by Kim Rodrigues the other day titled “Personalities of Alice” https://www.poetrysoup.com/poem/personalities_of_alice_899442,
which was absolutely wonderful, and it reminded me of this so I thought I would bring it up again and see if you liked it.
Copyright © Chris Green | Year Posted 2017
Cauliflower clouds drift past broccoli trees,
where bright carrot paths lead to vegetable seas.
Tall corn sentries stand straight in a row,
while wild little radishes have no where to go.
Straight stalks of celery spar with asparagus heads,
with an audience of onions and green lettuce beds.
Big juicy tomatoes go look for a thrill,
they stomp on the squash but fall flat on some dill.
Fresh cut potatoes walk boldly around,
quiet cucumbers make barely a sound.
All of them gather; sliced, cut, skinned and pearled,
as I survey my great edible world.
Written in May, 2007
Copyright © Laura Leiser | Year Posted 2014
When Billy Bob Bunny turned one,
his mama said, “Listen up, son.
I’m sure you could get
away from a net,
but beware the guy bearing a gun!
If a gun-toting farmer you see,
you must hip hop away instantly.
If he has good aim,
you might end up lame
or worse yet, rabbit stew you will be.
So do please, Billy Bob, take good care
that you don’t end up being the hare
that loses his life
so Farmer Jack’s wife
has a soft rabbit stole she can wear!”
But it wasn’t Billy Bob’s habit
to listen to his Mama Rabbit.
Without using good sense,
he hopped over the fence,
saw a carrot and started to grab it.
Farmer Jack spied that rascal. Oh, my!
From a gun, bullets started to fly.
When a shot nicked his ear,
Billy fell down from fear.
Then he heard a small sound like a cry.
“Please don’t shoot at the bunny again,”
cried the farmer’s sweet daughter, and then
Billy could feel her
stroking his soft fur,
and at night he was placed in a pen.
Mama came to the pen and she said,
“You are trapped. I’m just glad you’re not dead.”
Though no freedom he had,
Billy Bob was not sad.
“I’m a loved pet,” he said, “and well fed!”
The moral of this story is: You can tolerate any condition as long as you are loved and well fed!
Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2012
I will always hate the colour of orange. Consider:
Last meeting was on promoting sales of necklaces,
The folder given was orange.
Going home was a one lane affair,
An orange sign stated “Works Ahead”.
Orange traffic cones lined the lane on each side.
Arriving home I found my wife had installed orange curtains.
By which time I began to have some shivers.
Dinner began: orange pumpkin soup with orange buffalo wings.
“Come dear have some orange juice laced with orange vitamin pills.”
Opening TV and orange Garfield appeared.
Even the Cheetos and Utz Cheese Balls were orange.
Turning to a book what do I get?
A Clockwork Orange by Anthony Burgess.
That’s when I began to really hate the colour
For even the goldfish had the same colour.
“Is it possible in this world it’s all orange?”
My wife thought about that and said:
“Oh no my dear, there’s salmon, carrot, coral, titian….”
Disgusted I left the house towards a verdant park.
5 March 2016
United colours: ORANGE
A Silent One Contest.
Copyright © Victor Buhagiar | Year Posted 2016
So sensationally super; Sagittarius son of John Spence
Pleasantly personable, and matriarch Maud Spence’s son
Enabling, exquisite, eloquent, evolving and enterprising
Naturally nice, no nonsense, and a nutritionist nobleman
Carrot consumer, constant comrade and cold-war veteran
Equitably enlightened, and just an elegant eggnog taster
Jumping Jupiter, a jubilant sundae lover, and just a jewel
Oppresso de liber, optimistically captivating; oratorical
Saintly passionate, succulent salmon sampler; sweetheart!
Exquisitely enchanting, enchantingly amatorious; éclat!
Playful, painstakingly passionate, pajama wearer, patient
Handsomely helpful handyman, harmonizer of happiness
Sweet as syrup, shining armor off the shelf; savoir-faire!
Red-blooded poetry connoisseur and radioactively lovable!
Won Seventh Place Position
"Tell Me About You Contest"
June 16, 2010
Sponsored by Amy Green
Copyright © Joseph Spence Sr | Year Posted 2010
Oh, give me cake with double chocolate
And strawberry with sweetened cream whipped stiff.
And if you have a cake named butter nut,
I’ll have that too. For just a little whiff
of carrot cake with pineapple thrown in,
I’ll go bananas! Come to think of it,
I might as well go all out in my sin
and also order a banana split!
Each scoop of ice cream different I will take -
one scoop of toffee flavor, one of mint,
and walnut too with slices of my cake!
Let cherries, butterscotch, and caramel drop
onto it all until I say to stop!
written Oct. 25, 2015
For the All This Melts in Your Mouth Poetry Contest of Olive Eloisa Guillermo
Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2015
A giraffe approached
An elephant met me on the jungle path
I stored many thoughts in his trunk
A monkey smiles at me
Now I have no more bananas
A zebra wants to discuss the issues of life
I replied, such things are never black and white
On a boat, an alligator swam by
He offered to sell me an old family briefcase
I have, I confess a gold fish with blonde hair
I named her Donald as bizarre as it seems
I tried to hire a group of rabbits
I said it’s the carrot or the stick
They were hopping mad
Multiplying their demands
I gave in
My coyote lawyer was useless in such matters
Alas as I am older now
So I bought a turtle
He slows me down a little
I slow him down a lot
I now have a great admiration
For Dr Doolittle
Who after all
Did a little and a lot
Although there was that one case never solved
No one though, really gives a quack!
Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2016
For thirty years I’ve been a truckie who has driven far and wide,
Carting goods through day and night all across the countryside…
But hours spent upon the road, do not permit a set routine,
When it comes to dining regular, on healthy style cuisine.
If there’s time I’ll organize an esky, with ice and cans of coke,
Plus a dozen rounds of sandwiches…‘cause this won’t send me broke,
Not like the tucker of roadhouses who all serve a similar trait,
With a big bill like a pelican’s and grease to decorate your plate.
But a truckies life is not habitual; the phone’s his driving sign,
If someone’s sick, or broken down, and the company’s on deadline,
There is no time of thoughts ahead; he must consider first the load,
And it’s on these hauls a truckie must buy meals along the road.
I’d been driving fairly flat out now, for I’d say six weeks or more,
Carting produce down to Adelaide for a distribution store,
Some mornings I would leave at two, and backup a couple of trips,
And live upon that greasy take-away including fish and chips.
But then driving home one evening, I could feel that hunger pain,
Though didn’t feel that I could really cope with roadhouse food again,
For I needed something different, and then this jogged my memory,
There’s a fast food café up ahead that really does cook differently.
I stopped close to the café near the South Australian border,
And walked up to the counter where it says to place your order.
The cook who had his back to me, was making salad rolls to sell,
While dropping chips into the cooker, as he battered fish as well.
And the young girl, who is serving, asked me what I’d like to buy,
But before I gave my answer, one more feature caught my eye,
The cook had gone out to his cool room, and rushed back with a sack,
Then started slicing spuds and onions, while his chips are burning black.
So now by knowing that the backyard chef was well within ear shot,
I nodded, “All right love, well what about, a hamburger with the lot,”
As she was writing down my order, I had some further more to say…
I asked if I could have my burger cooked, in my own special way.
I requested that the bun I get, be very hard and three days old,
The bacon mostly crispy fat, fried onions fatty, burnt and cold,
I want the lettuce limp and bitter, and cucumber piled five high,
A slice of cheese like cardboard. Shredded carrot, brown and dry.
I want my slices of tomato, to be slushy more like juice,
With the egg yolk set like concrete, plus salt and pepper overuse,
I want the meat as black as charcoal, and cooked to a rigid phase,
Then asked her if it’s possible, to drown the lot in mayonnaise.
The cook who had been listening, looked away from boiling fat,
And rudely said, “Fair go mate… I can’t cook, a hamburger like that!”
I raised my eyebrows just a mite and then with tongue in cheek,
I said to him “Why can’t you pal? …You bloody could last week.”
Copyright © Lindsay Laurie | Year Posted 2015
Whatever turns your crank
Whatever tickles your pickle
Whatever dunks your donut
Whatever waxes your dolphin
Whatever buffs your Buddha
Whatever pops your cork
Whatever pets your monkey
Whatever frosts your cookies
Whatever spills your pills
Whatever trips your trigger
Whatever humps your camel
Whatever melts your chocolate
Whatever peels your onion
Whatever chafes your carrot
Whatever flops your mop
Whatever rocks your socks
Whatever teeters your totter
Whatever milks your goat
Whatever pings your pong
Whatever peels your banana
Whatever blows your nozzle
Whatever tips your canoe
Whatever flicks your switch
Whatever zips your zipper
Whatever blows your stack
Whatever... whatever... whatever!
© Jack Ellison 2014
Copyright © Jack Ellison | Year Posted 2014
In Memory of Jimmy Dale Still, Barrel horse rider, KIA, Song Be, Viet Nam, 1/1/70
swaybacked, sand burrs in his mane.
He stands no longer hopefull by the fence up near the house,
but follows the shade around the shed,
Nearby the dented barrels
rust rank and file akimbo,
no longer equadistant prey
of steed and gladiator.
Hay in a self feeder.
The last time Jimmy came to break a bale,
carrot in his pocket, bridle in hand,
they were both young,
Bill's walked a trail, deep,
along the fence to the old arena.
Quiet now; full of weeds.
A place for breaking horses.
Copyright © Wayne Sapp | Year Posted 2010
I look to the skies and I see you,
Your face smiling in the midday sun
The rainbow on a damp day
Reminds me of us having fun
Brings to mind the rides at a fairground
The stalls and the coconut shie
The ghost train, where we would steal a kiss
The hit the hammer stall,
which I knew you would try
The bell rings you've done it
Hit the Highest score
Chest thrust out in achievement
Brings a thought to keep for sure
Rain brings another story I think of us
Huddled up under a brolly to keep dry
The puddles we jumped together
Rain on our faces as though we had cried
Holding hands we didn't notice how wet we were
Sneezing and coughs starting the next day
Is this the price we have to pay
For memories that I hold dear.
Snow wow now these are mega thoughts
Snow ball fights are so much fun
Rolling you over in a snow drift
Putting snow down your neck and run
Then there is the snowman be built together
Carrot for a nose and stones for eyes
Scarf round his beck completes the picture
Tears when the sun shines, it slowly melts
bringing about the snowman's demise.
Autumn with its cold nights
A log fire has been lit
Romantic music playing
On the floor leaning against you
Is where I sit.
Now I sit alone looking into the fire so bright
Imagining I can see you smiling
Saying don't worry, all will be alright.
I think of you, I always think if you
Copyright © Seren Roberts | Year Posted 2015
Ajuga, will be a must, a blue beauty that blows in the wind.
Bellflowers, charming and faithful and lovely, of course I must have
Candy Tufts from gardens of long gone, enchanting. And mother's favourite,
Daylilies, in a rainbow of colors, Delphinium and Daffodils also, so dramatic.
Evening Primrose along the fence will create quite a stir, and on the porch
False Watercress spilling out of a container, and then old dependable,
Geraniums and Glory In The Snow, I love my dreamy dream of spring flowers.
Hyacinths, scented jewels of color sparkle in my garden, along with
Iris Reticulata, an early spring treasure, it will be a wonderful place.
Jacob's Ladder, with blue-purple blooms, mingle with Johnny-Jump-Ups.
Kalmia Latifolia, pure white blooms, related to the laurel family.
Lily-of-the Valley, so sweet and fragrant, how could I forget you and,
Meadow Rue, a lavender wave in the wind, and anther old dependable,
Nasturium, a gardeners dream and it is also edible. Oh my list is long!
Oriental Poppy, was there ever a more heavenly gift from God, except maybe
Pasque Flower, unfolding from beneath the snow, and those Pansies and Petunias!
Queen Anne's Lace, so pretty is her lacework, did you know ishe is a wild carrot?
Rosemary, with a scented pretty flower, like dew in the morning is a must, as is
Sage, that billowy haze of lavender, pushing away the rainbow Snapdragons.
Thrift, delightful vintage touch to my rock garden in the shade, sweet the tulips too.
Umbrella Magnolia growing in the garden corner, with creamy white blooms, and
Vinca Periwinkle with lovely blue flowers, friends to Violet and Viola.
Wall Flowers, who love the sun, drooping with snow cap jewels, oh over there
Xenia's blooming in marine colors, so unique. And here a childhood love,
Yellow Anemone, aka Buttercup, who does not love Buttercup?
Zinnia, friend of Sunflower, elegant and colorful, nods. Must this dream end!
April 13, 2016
Copyright © Broken Wings | Year Posted 2016
Here you are, only twelve, at our kitchen table.
Such a carrot top you were! Strangers used to think
you were our red-head mother’s natural son.
And here’s that photo you took of me at college.
Though you’re not in it, how could I ever forget
it was you in front of me that snapped that shot?
For I’m laughing and so glad you came to see me!
In this one, all ten of us are in the back yard
dressed in our Sunday best - our first big reunion!
I’m nearly 30; just look at my silly perm!
Folks still mistake me for Dori in this picture!
Look how Mom and Thea - for once - are smiling!
You’re standing behind me, in a lovely grey suit,
only 32 and almost out of law school!
Here from more recent pictures, this shows a rare time
we were joined, but sadly, for Dad‘s funeral.
You‘re not in this one, Dale . . . nor in any others.
That picture in our back yard was to be the last.
My dear stepbrother, the best man I ever knew -
Taken from us so young. . . you remain beloved.
Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2013
in a white blanket.
Children whoop with delight
dashing to make a snowman,
with a carrot nose and coal eyes.
Suddenly snowflakes swirl so thickly
they give him a scarf to keep out the cold!
Their snowman stands guard in the white garden
Until the sun appears and warms earth.
Slowly, so slowly the snow melts -
poor snowman, his ‘eyes’ fall out
and his nose is dislodged.
The children are sad,
they wave goodbye
to their old
Double Etheree – syllable count 110
Sponsor: Shadow Hamilton
Copyright © JAN ALLISON | Year Posted 2015
Sponsor: John Hamilton
Bugs bunny was the silliest hare with such a bright future ahead,
he wanted to give Lola something special, but he gave her a carrot instead.
He pondered on a different surprise, and wrote Lola a sweet love letter,
asking her to marry him, because of her his life was much better.
He proof read his proposal and realized he forgot one very special phrase,
so he clicked the caret button to insert a few sentiments then pressed save.
All he had hoped for was that he expressed his love with his honest words,
for he wanted to fill this day with rainbows with sweet songs from Tweety bird.
The day flew by and night time arrived, that silly wabbit was nervous,
he smelled her scent and watched her approach him, boy was he wordless!
“My Lola, from Pensacola, I give you this twenty four karat gold ring,
a three carat princess diamond placed gently above the gold and in between.
Marry me, my sweet, I'll sweep you off your feet, I'd love to play with your hair...."
She said yes, of course...and a few months later there was a family of baby hares.
1. carrot-A vegetable
2. karat-weight of gold
3. carat-size of diamonds
4. caret-a symbol used to indicate the place in writing material which something
is to be inserted.
1. Hare- a rabbit
2. Hair- a growth of filaments forming a coat over the scalp of a humans head
~Date Written: March 18, 2016~
Copyright © Laura Loo | Year Posted 2016
I SHUDDER TO THINK
I shudder to think about the way
Some vegetables are abused every day -
With physical and psychological slights
In gross violation of their vegetable rights.
Handicapped vegetables have no chance to fight back
Like eyeless potatoes - poor blind mites,
And baby carrots , aaw! Or peas-in-a-pod,
Eaten before they’re even born and take a breath.
Imagine those frantic runnerbeans
Desperately trying to escape.
No surprise that peas are strained.
My over-tired mum used to say, “Oh, I’m shredded.”
So I understand how tired shredded-cabbage must feel.
What about the potatoes who diced with death and lost?
Jerusalem Artichokes - “chokes” is horrible!
Why not “Jerusalem Passes Aways” ?
And ”Squash” ! - Please speak more politely:
What a way to go - we should say “Press Lightly”.
No wonder some clean-living veg are angry :
Parsnip - an angry snip from parson or clergy;
Swede resembling a tall blond person, Stockholm based;
With horrid ethnic humour ( bad taste)
Like sauerkraut (also bad taste)
(So-called humour about a surly German).
Look at insults basd on vegetables for a human -
“The IQ of a cabbage.” What ethnicity insults !
I’m sorry for tomatoes - all this veg talk results
In them being called a vegetable dish
It’s like calling Scots people English.
Sheer vegetable racism is the worst. Mixed potato and carrot salad?
Not in apartheid South Africa – their salad had to be pallid.
Oh yes some veg are spoiled like children :
Coddled cauliflower warmed in milk ; then
Brazed egg-plants (please call snobby ones aubergines)
Suntanned slowly at their leisure;
And butter (not margarine) beans cooked with pleasure.
It’s too horrible entirely, the abuse is complete
I’ll stop being vegetarian, and start eating meat.
Copyright © Sidney Beck | Year Posted 2010
Andrea, I am a purblind parrot
I have to borrow your carrot
(Rajat Kanti Chakrabarty)
I’m Andrea, a visitor to earth,
And I'm a Virgo; astrologically,
Stability has ruled me since my birth.
A gentle, mellow earth girl here you see.
...and heart she opened wide
The placid hue her eyes were born
A flirty blue, her eyes
Romantic eyes, with whisper of soft lavender for one
The breeze blew in
She clung to life and pondered soberly
Beyond what they had endeavored yet to do.
Her vision was an eagle's
She could see the roads along the shore
She felt no wrath, but peace engulfed her
She embraced her soul's release.
New snow, beneath the moon and stars, falls with grace
My sweet goddess Andrea
With divine thunder
Rules the poetic world, the cerulean space
WSponsor Judy Konos
rite a Poem - Poetry Contest
Copyright © RAJAT KANTI CHAKRABARTY | Year Posted 2015
Mushroom soup for breakfast,
Carrot soup for lunch,
Noodle soup for dinner,
Onion soup for brunch!
Chow mein soup the next day,
Broccoli soup – Oh Boy,
Barley soup – I’m feeling sick –
But Poetrysoup for joy!
Copyright © Sneha RV The Literature Lover | Year Posted 2015
My daughter's getting married
To a super guy called Tom,
It's really fast approaching,
It won't be very long.
The wedding dress is sorted,
The venue and the flowers,
The music and the fireworks,
But the cake, it took us hours.
We went to do some tasting,
Each sponge was quite divine,
Chocolate orange, vanilla
Pimms, coffee and praline.
The raspberry and the champagne
Made us salivate,
Strawberry and white chocolate
Tasted oh so great.
There was banana and spicy cinnamon,
Ginger and caramel,
All so gratifying,
Oh and Battenberg as well.
The carrot cake with walnuts
Was tasty as can be,
Rhubarb and rose petal
And one flavoured with green tea.
Piña colada with coconut
Like kisses on our lips,
Oh the calories on our hips.
Odd flavours such as beetroot,
Pistachio and courgette
Were actually quite delightful,
A taste we won't forget.
Earl Grey with lavender,
Pumpkin with peanut butter,
They got us all a flutter.
Chocolate fudge with peppermint,
Marshmallow and key lime,
Traditional dried fruit,
They were all sublime.
How could we make our choices
For a three tiered wedding cake,
We just couldn't do it
So we've gone for twenty-eight!
4th March 2017
Copyright © Elizabeth Kinch | Year Posted 2017
Winter arrives and God's sculpture is seen everywhere,
Snow as white as cotton, on the rooftops of the houses.
Trees brushed with snow along their delicate branches,
Spruce and pine trees and boughs, God's Christmas Card.
Snowman white and round with eyes and mouth made of coal,
And a carrot nose, topped with a black hat and winter scarf.
The sounds of the sculpture are silent and reverent,
Only the sounds of the wind can be heard.
Parents and children creating these snow scenes,
Sounds of laughter, enjoying God's sculptures.
Mountains of snow, tall and small,
With smooth and rugged angles.
God's winter sculpture, his portrait of excellence,
To be appreciated by humanity.
Winter weather is a friend and not a foe,
And whereever you go God's beauty reigns.
Author: Gwen Meyer-Erlach Schutz
Copyright © Gwen von Erlach Schutz | Year Posted 2011
The old black man came riding up
On a wagon pulled by a mule
In the wagon he had a plough
And some other old rusty tools
As best I recall it was late in the fall
Of nineteen sixty two
He said hello and told my dad
He was looking for something to do
And for a fee would unhitch Ol' B
They'd plow up the garden out back
The old man smiled as they dickered awhile
Then began to unpack
Ol' B wore blinders as he walked behind her
It only took them a bit
With all of the kids from the neighborhood
The pair had made quite a hit
Put the cash in his pocket gave her a carrot
Hooked up and went on their way
As the old man whistled to the clippity-clop
The old mule loudly brayed
an original poem by the "poemdog" Daniel Turner
Copyright © Daniel Turner | Year Posted 2016
Vegetables have feelings too
Put on her Sunday best
Forgetting it was Saturday
She hadn’t had much rest
Working in the garden
This place she called her home
Tending to her children
She never was alone
Yet something it was missing
She felt it deep inside
So Cauliflower Cathy
Sat on the ground and cried
She had so many children
She tended to with care
No matter what they asked for
Dear Cathy she was there
It mattered not the hour
The weather on that day
For Cauliflower Cathy
Took all their fears away
She made her children happy
So big and green they’d grow
But still she often wondered
If true love she would know
Then sitting in her garden
She heard a different voice
And couldn’t help but listen
She really had no choice
The voice it sounded friendly
Coming from next door
Another person’s garden
Another person’s chore
She glanced in that direction
A man her eyes did see
Waving from his garden
Her heart it went a’ flutter
She fixed her golden hair
Then walked up to the fence line
These gardens they did share
My name is Carrot Charlie
That is what he said
A leaf of green was growing from
The top of Charlie’s head
I’m Cauliflower Cathy
I’ve not seen you before
Out here in this garden
Never, I am sure
He said he understood this
Though he had been around
But mostly every sunny day
He spent them underground
He asked if she remembered
Last spring or there about
When both of them were planted
She was a little sprout
She listened to him talking
Her heart it sure was fed
She found that he was handsome
Then this is what he said
If I may be so forward
I’ve watched you for a while
I’ve dreamed someday to meet you
I really like your smile
And if you wouldn’t mind it
I’d cover the expense
I hope you will agree with me
That we take down this fence
I’ll help you with your children
And you can help with mine
We’ll have the biggest garden
If only you’d be mine
The two they worked together
For they were now in love
They welcomed every rain drop
Each sun beam from above
Now Cauliflower Cathy
With Charlie as her man
Lived happily ever after
Tending to their clan
So tonight while eating dinner
If on your plate you view
These vegetables, remember
That they have feelings too
Hey, Darren White said it is Happy Poem Wednesday. : )
Copyright © Chris Green | Year Posted 2017