Best Vegetable Poems
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.
Grandpa’s a gem in the garden,
tending his sprouts and his peas,
tomatoes and onions and cabbage,
his ‘caulies’ and his broccoli’s.
I have seen plenty of gardens,
chocked full of bountiful greens,
but none the standard of grandpa’s,
with his chili’s ‘n chocko’s 'n beans.
So I believed grandpa was blessed,
with an artistic green thumb,
by his artichokes, pumpkin and corn,
and his wonderful red capsicum.
At first I mentioned to grandpa
“His garden’s as good as can be.”
Then asked him “How does it grow?”
This is how he answered me.
“I ‘foller’ chooks, horses 'n cows,
with a big shovel an’ ‘barra’,
puttin’ load after load of manure,
on silver beet, spinach and ‘marra.”
Manure! I said “Loads of manure,
that really makes plenty of sense,”
then the old ‘biddy’ from next door,
stuck her head over the fence.
“I have been listening you know,
your language belongs in the sewer,
the word that you should be using,
is fertilizer, and not manure!”
I put me hands over me ears,
expecting grandpa to ‘explete’,
with a barrage of verbal manure,
on zucchini’s and over red beet.
But before grandpa could answer,
grandma called out with a plea.
“What in the world are you saying?
Madge you just listen to me.”
“I have cajoled and pleaded and prayed.
I’m telling you there’s nothing truer,
its taken me ‘round forty years,
just to get him to call it manure.”
Last night I dreamed I was weeding my vegetable garden in the Drive-in theater, while people wandered back and forth from snack bar to their cars.
While pulling weeds, I saw a banana slug and was about to squish it when I realized it had legs. It was an eight foot monitor lizard! I chased it around the grounds and finally caught it and put it in the car. Then I went back to my garden to see if that huge tiger salamander was still there. It was!
I decided to go home with the monitor and the salamander when I realized, oh no, my little dog Daigoro was in the car! I got all frightened the monitor ate him, but he was perfectly all right. The rest of the dream was trying to drive home with Daigoro under one arm so the monitor wouldn't get him.
Got an ice cream cone in one hand
While typing with the other
Why does ice cream make us seniors
Beg for another and another!
Isn't ice cream only for kiddies?
Wow! That's surely not the case
Old folks can down a chocolate sundae
Beg for more with a messy face!
Maybe it makes us feel younger
Or it's simply just a treat
As we lick away like happy spaniels
A sensation that can't be beat!
Really not shy about our craving
We'd fight for another scoop
There's many other ways to try it
Imagine ice cream in vegetable soup?
So stay away from old folks
When they're lining up for some
They'll push and shove and step on your face
For a scoop of butterscotch rum!
© Jack Ellison 2015
Sweet peas,
Sweet corn,
Sweet the clue,
That does adorn,
The sweetest thing
I've ever seen,
Since I was born...
Like "Casablanca"
Embracing at an airport,
But not for "Goodbye"
But here to "court"
No way, but
A short while ago,
Would I ever,
Dare to believe,
This could ever be so...
Life carries some surprises,
Some are awful sweet,
Not every one,
Ends in some
horrible defeat...
I'll ask no more,
Of my God above,
Because he has returned
Your precious love.
She sat on her front porch swing,
Moving backwards and forwards,
As a heavy bag of cornfield beans
Sat next to her, awaiting stringing
I sat on the floor, engrossed in words
That colored her a soft blue and purple
Colors of whispers that linger inside
Smiling from their wise hues of insight
She began to string the beans, dropping
First the string into the trashcan, then
The broke bean into the massive bowl
That sat there, filling to the brim with beans
I listened to her words of kindness drifting
Through the breeze that cooled the warm
Summer air with breaths of compassion,
An embrace from the sweetness of her grin
She gradually filled the bowl and emptied
The weighty bag so that it was collapsed
And slowly pulled long puffs from a Winston
Her favorite cigarette, her one and only addiction
I sang a silly tune of some sort to her as she
Worked, compelling her to place her hands up
Covering her ears in amusement and truth
As my voice was definitely lacking any rhythm
She labored with her garden the way I might
With some poem that seems to long for my touch
Whispering freshness into the heart and soul
As she graced us all with fresh vegetables
Panic In the Vegetable Garden
By Elton Camp
The carrot turn from yellow to pale
“Danger!” it called out to the kale
The tomato gaped in great fear
“Caution broccoli, they’re here.”
Mushroom whispered to the squash,
“Beware for they’re here to nosh.”
Pumpkin felt of his hard shell
“If they touch me, I’ll yell.”
“Oh horrors!” said the peas
“How we hate such as these.”
Why did the veggies begin to shout?
Because vegans were roving about!
The Vegetable Garden
The garden beckons in the newness of the morning –
Soft earth giving up the evening chill
As long sunbeams kiss the soil good morning.
Straight lines of carrots with curly tops
Dig deep into the daylight hours
Reaching down to be, at last, raised up.
Radishes and lettuce rows sway in the breath
Of foggy summer dawns leaving
Glistening dew before the sun appears.
Along the fence green pole beans scramble up
On lattice twined with tendrils
Climbing first to glimpse the garden growing.
Hummingbirds and butterflies come each day
To gaze and measure growth unseen
Just the day before.
The season ends with tall tomato plants
Filling harvest baskets with their scarlet bounty
As September bids seeds renew in sleep.
The garden beckons, no longer filled
With radish rows or carrot tops
But promises of newly planted apple trees.
In Indian cuisine, potato is favourite.
People make variety of dishes and they eat.
Boiled, fried or in dosa.
Love too, filled in samosa.
On day of fast, consume one kg. at least.
Indians like potato, fries and finger chips.
In many other vegetables, they do mix.
No worry, if takes;
body, potato shape.
They are brave not afraid even of diabetes.
(C) S. D. Tiwari
dosa, samosa = names of Indian dishes
Beef Vegetable Soup
with carrots, crisp cabbage and sweet peas fresh from the garden, not soup... Soul Food!
11/05/15
I don’t like to eat my veggies
No carrots, beans, or peas.
And I don’t like to eat any salad
It’s full of gross green leaves.
I just don’t like the dirt
And all the bugs they’re carryin’.
All this wouldn’t matter….
But I’m a vegetarian!
Purple conical blooms lure bumblebee
Foxglove trumpet flowers scent that please
Vegetable garden doesn't make smiles for me
Weeping Willow with grace lures so artsy
Under which lies Butterfly Bush which tease
Purple conical blooms lure bumblebee
But in the vegetable garden foresee
Sweat, toil in heat but food that heals disease
Vegetable garden doesn't make smiles for me
On trellis adjacent pale pink rose see
Just a dewdrop, but not on Butterfly Bush with base
Purple Conical blooms that lure bumblebee
In the vegetable garden no Sweet Pea
More flowers for me and food plants decrease
Vegetable garden doesn't make smiles for me
All I see toil, sweat no trip to the sea
Please do not let the flower garden cease
Let purple conical blooms lure bumblebee
Vegetable garden doesn't make smiles for me
Contest:"Villanelle Me"
Sponsor:Catie Lindsay
S oup
W ith
E very garden vegetable
E ntertained by man
T aste and see that it is good!
No one likes dead lettuce
It must be crisp and cool
And dousing wounds with vinegar
Is certainly not cruel!
For Vegans can not see
Why lettuce choose to be
On a different frequency
Than Donald Trump might be
A salad will pass away
Shivering with cold today
Disgusted Vegans will say,
"I never heard lettuce pray"
Oh!! greenish vegetable
Thou has watched you grow
Like a chick being watched by its mother hen
Daily you are being watered
Just to allow your continuity.
You grow faster in a twinkle of an eye
And your green continue glowing
But it pains me so much that-
You'll end up in an unpalatable place
Which will make you whither away.
In a confined environment will you be placed
So as to lose your source of energy
Cos the people of the world doesn't want your longevity
For the fear of being greener than other plants.