Best Cucumbers Poems

Bill’s cucumbers grew long and hard
Nuns queued up for them in his yard
‘Twas their weekly treat…
They were not to eat
I’ll finish here… or I’ll get...

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There once was a Nun who knew Bill
For his cucumbers gave her a thrill
Off to sleep she went, dreamt
Her thoughts heavenly sent
All sweating she woke...

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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...

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You can see him now, dirty as a horse
that slipped in the mud, planting petunias
with that infamous shamrock thumb

(Irish from his Pop   ...

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The old house, built in 1895, was the best of weathered antiques having hugged North Rogers Street from days of horses to days of horse-powered...

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When you have a desire
for something,
You have an intense craving 
that just won’t quit.
For some people 
it’s called a Nicotine Fit.
Desperate people will check 
the...

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The odor of turnips,
of seasoned cabbage water - borscht
flushed through musing kidneys.

Listening to Zhukovsky, Vysotsky, Tyutchev,
not comprehending a word of it.
Working my way backward
through an...

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"Bread and Butter"

Fickle pickles soaked in barrels of brine,
Along with drowned rats in vinegar’s wine,
Public non the wiser,
I am your advisor,
Take Tetanus when on ...

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Apples and Azaleas are always around.
Bright beautiful buds bloom while
crisp cultured cabbage and cucumbers
dot the darkened dirt.
Every edible is excellent.
Fame is so far flung for...

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I hark to freer days of childhood
Life simplicity in itself
days of laughter, of playing in the sand
so so soft and fine
golden white sands from the...

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Food for thought !
Over what has been lost.

Days of long ago - filled with much flavour,
Foods exotic – for the discerning palate to savour.

There was...

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Peter the Pumpkin went walking one night
When Samantha the Squash strolled past
Peter was smitten, it was love at first sight
"Will you marry me now?" He...

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Cucumbers, celery and stem-vine tomatoes
were hobnobbing with my Russett potatoes.
Pears and plums and one Georgian peach
winked at the Wisk and Snuggled the bleach.
Pretzels and popcorn...

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Suicide Salads

I walk along the river banks
Whether is the raven’s moon
Or the midnight sun
Doesn’t change the dimensions
That here I walk alone

When I walk past the...

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Why, do we call it
Something it’s not
If we’re going to name things
Let’s give it, some thought

If it’s called a chilli
Then why is it so hot
And...

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