Altho' I'm a common or garden potato
a lighter shade of brown
and you're a turnip who
just my luck fell off the truck
on the ride from the other side of town
I only have eyes for you
but when the chips are down
a brussel sprout I can do without
as for lettuce you may forget us
onion always makes me cry
“Goodbye radish” or so say I
garlic is all very well but not the smell
to the pepper bell a fond farewell
yet the root of the problem
is indeed you see
while I think you're the top of the crop
you don't care a swede for me
Planting a seed
Blooming courage indeed
Looking up to the sky
Not considering, time to die
Knowing heavens are there
Protection from the crows who scare
Reading books filled with studies
Asking, how much money?
Trusting powers that be
Truth will see
Sun shining bright
An illuminating sight
When break time arrives
Reason to sigh
Showing a path
Towards the bath
Sweat well spent
Cultivating investment
Heat saying goodbye
Autumn leaves fly
Seasoned to perfection
Ready for collection
Harvest pay received
Graciously, I believe
Joyful thanks
Leaving the bank
No longer fearful and blue
Cash in hand is cool
Barreling pork
Work
Done
Time for fun
Spending
Since holiday season is pending
Intimidation threats are gone
Since courageous honesty is the new dawn
Cornbelt residents rise with the sun,
Seeking geometry in soybeans.
Space aliens zoomed through the galaxy,
Just to crease someone’s corn flakes.
Intelligent life from distant stars
Avoids the formal radio waves.
They use advanced crop wrinkles
To converse with good ol’ Mother Earth.
Galactic wayfarers don’t stop at NASA,
They etch their figures in farrow.
A communication from outer space,
Which could be wiped away by a combine.
Two small-town farmers named Dave and Roy,
Armed with flashlights and sheets of plywood,
Chuckling quietly into their beers,
Designing an entirely new universe.
UFO investigators tote their gear,
Science-ing the folded wheat.
Either the universe is trying to talk to us,
Or the bar kicked them out too early.
Every farmer partners with weather.
A dependency that gauges his very survival.
Rain usually a welcome gift.
Wordku; 5-7-5 words
AP: Honorable Mention 2025
"Flowers fade and decay through wintry hours–waiting for rebirth." Quote by - Constance La France
...........................
Once buried a seed as a child,
As I had seen my father do.
I wished it would decay and feed maggots,
Like meat I once buried.
But nature taught me outside class—
That seeds smile deeper beneath soil.
I soon forgot the tiny grave I'd made,
Till the first sprout appeared.
It looked just like my father's crop—
Green and glistening in the sun.
So I began to tend it as he did,
And watched it grow as mine.
Each day, its smile became wider,
One leaf to two, then to many.
Its stem pushed upward toward the heavens—
A loud joy filled my soul.
It grew like those in my dad's farm,
Stayed a secret just between us.
Its silks grew long and its green leaves spread wide—
My seed became many.
alien armpits
dripping shimmering sweat orbs
on the crop circle
Farmers reaping from their fields
five bees blossom dance...
hovercraft buzz bush roses -
stolen honey dew
~~~~~~~~~
(combing the crop)
“Let the rain kiss you. Let the rain beat upon your head with silver liquid drops. Let the rain sing you a lullaby.”
—Langston Hughes
Cream of Crop Showers
The world seems smaller, inside within quarters, no sun.
But the yellow wonder is like lightning outside, not done.
Inside there is the brightness of the youngest grand.
Consuming all the rays of sunshine, each grain of sand.
The community park would burn within minutes our skin,
so the schoolager finds friends, swings his arms to win.
The VR helps a bit on closeted days that aren’t cooled by rain.
Those greedy clouds won’t spill their shimmering champagne.
With “cream of crop” showers, I imagine us stomping, making pies
with mud, running through the streets, splashing, loving the rise.
Dare the lightning to strike, we’d grab our swords and fight.
We’d reduce its commotion locomotion to a wee little light.
All wet, with flip flops flying like frisbees into puddles deep.
We’d be like fish, who don’t care if they’re slippery, and leap.
The skies today hold promise, covering over the brightness.
Will the heavens lie to us today or do they hold forthrightness.
It’s not okay a heavy make-up
Ahead of a medical check-up
And - please believe me-it’s a up:
If doctor is handsome “a set up!”
It’s a patient’s right: a good make-up
Before a booked medical check-up
But some medic for sweet face “Thumbs up!”
While Mascara could a check-up screw up…
At last, somebody shall be tensed up
The medical check-up time used up!”
We should image what next might crop up:
Perhaps, one’s husband with gun “Hands up!”
Boyfriend “Smart Baby this game is up…”
Smart baby like a bridge to blow up!
.
A
Re
Turn.
Drop
Reward
Trophies
Accolade
Affirmation
Expectation
All applause
Re
Run
Train
To live
To give
In
To
The
Seed
Return
Reward
Accolade
Applause
A dissolve
Stay there
Stray not
return to
Home
drop
In
to
The
Source
The store
Repository
It contains
The seeds
Seasons
and the
Crop.
Please, fancy not stone field:
It assures none crop yield.
From death won't one shield,
When guns one's killers wield...
Only a big name yield:
"A Landlord" owners wield
And causeless questions field
From the press that lands shield!
Then, choose between crop yield
And mere names that lands wield:
From those of a stone field
I shan't fail to self shield
They said we would be rid of our chains
But, they've only grown tighter
They said that welts would heal and fade
But, all I feel is the tenderness of new wounds
We’re always looking up at the stars
Cause our feet never seem to touch the ground
We HANG above the rest!
But not in a way you would expect?
So, this is the sharing of the crop?
They issued us free, right?
But I don’t feel it
That emancipation proclamation of devastation
Of disappointment
The ink is distorted by the tears of decomposed slaves
Waiting to be seen and heard
They laugh at our pain
What pleasure is there to be gained??
You call yourself “sharing?”
Only taking away more from us
Say that we just have "a little more" debt to work off
As the hours turn to days
Days turn to weeks
Weeks turn to years
At the command of God
They lock us behind bars
Whip us with our sins and hatred
Discipline us with our disobedience
The captivity of our sins is too much to bare
I want to die!
I can no longer handle being alive
The muscle falls from the bones
As I become apart of the Earth
Along with the sins of my ancestors
Now he’s going for a treatment
That might swallow much liniment
And lick up copious supplement ;
About this, no long argument …
Watching was I Sir Cecil hop,
Not once, not twice, in real pain stop,
His discharging sweat sadly mop
And his injured feet sometimes drop;
All these in the next street flop,
A watcher to pity The Fop
And arrange A Medic on Top…
And there was to be one stop
To curiously look at some crop
Before in the rain a dared bop,
As though briefly rung Jackson’s Pop…
Cecil to Patients The Cynic
I saw just head for a clinic.
Hey fruity cutie,
I been wondering
Just what’cha gonna do
With your peachy booty.
Mind if I lend a hand,
‘Cause I know what’s pick of the crop,
So come on strawberry blondie,
Just take off your top.
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