"vegies" poems
There's trouble growing in the garden
As the carrots make fun of those that are green
The potatoes are keeping their eyes out
Staring down those bleeding heart beets
Leaves of spinach are flexing their muscles
And of course the corn are all ears
Broccoli is green with envy
With the onions always in tears
The rhubarb has a thing for the strawberries
Can't seem to get along with anyone else
New to the winter garden which has the vegies talking
Not sure this frost will ever melt
The asparagus has been here forever
And the pole beans are always vaulting the fence
The lima's are out searching for the wisdom of the succotash
As the lettuce wonders where its head went
Yes there's trouble growing in the garden
Like we haven't all seen this before
The only time they get along is flash frozen and packaged
Chilling behind the grocer's freezer door
Oct 29, 2013
Oct 29, 2013 at 8:41 AM UTC
I haven't seen a passenger train roll on through town
for near two year now.
Plenty of freight moves, stopping traffic at intervals.
They carry illegal art on their exterior
for-all-to-see. Even for those who never look.
Christmas this year is cool, green and sunny. The freezer is full and times have been worse. I walked this morn crossing paths with a couple of dog owners out doing what dogs do.
The gifts have been given and the race to the table will be around six. Smoked, baked ham and vegies. You are what you eat or something along that line.
A starry night is forecast and I will venture out and about and around this tiny train town. I'm sure to don winter-wear and crunch the salt that be liberally applied to the concrete walk-way.
Dec 25, 2021
Dec 25, 2021 at 1:45 PM UTC
Set foot, stand on ground
Wakes up early before kickdawn
Rich in culture, filled with bask
Thanks god, for every grain, for
every rain,for every ray and another day.
Back to fields , growing seeds
Plucking the mist of irrational deeds
Running the treadmill of ounce dearth.
okay,let's count
when no rain, an unreasonable pain
Unseasonable rain, yet it flood the drains
Glimmering sun, adhesive air,
verdant emerald of vegies and corn
Filled with sweat of one's brow
They live life in a dense mess
Farmers are in complete distress
Apparantly with no fruitful harvest
The whammy bankers further oppress.
Their light erades like a blaze
They in darkness try to elope
But whirls in deep evil-twin
And find life hard to cope
then they pick up a rope
And hang-up all their hopes!
With this, one less counts the population
And this is how it will end,
the population count will decrease
No doubt with cost of an earnest gem!
Mar 26, 2018
Mar 26, 2018 at 1:08 PM UTC
a new piece to my mothers
puzzle....
rather frank and bewildering conversations.
this one regarding ***
one will admit....
very disconcerting over a breakfast of muesli and cheerio's
her " your father enjoyed *** me not as much, i often
just lay there and let him get on with it...it was over quickly enough"
me reeling internally,
you must understand my mother, the epitome of the straitlaced woman,
sent me to the doctor,
with a group of my peers for 'the talk'.
"oh, um...did you see the whales"
her " he never forced me tho, he was polite not just any good at it all fumbling and grunting...i don't think
i orgasmed once"
me ** dumbstruck**
her " after he left, i only had *** once more,
it was so much better...
it was as much about me,
as him.
i orgasmed then...
it was nice.....
but he was married."
me .... who?
her " i suppose it doesn't matter now.
mr clement, bob,
he used to bring the rabbits
and vegies from the farm.
me "oh.... him" remembering a short statured, swarthy man
with a kind nature...
and big hands
her "after that...
i did for myself,
much easier allround..
*** is important in a marriage....good for communicating.
you and ben,
seem to do alright .......
me " thanks for breakky
mum must get on."
i am so very sure,
i don't want to discuss
my sexlife, as good and rich as it may be.....
with my up till now, prudish
85 year old mother...
even if she,
finally,
wants to talk to me,
about ***
just way too....disconcerting.
May 21, 2014
May 21, 2014 at 7:56 PM UTC
I tightened the circle
let the lines loosen,
then in my state of confusion
pulled them tightly.
I subtracted loved ones nightly,
despite my social media
connections
my real-life affections
became whispers in
the distance from
previous family members
and friends I’ve loved.
With a noose I constricted
till it was too perfect.
Then I ****** it.
It was like when
I was biting
my tongue
just hard enough to hurt
but not enough to cut
that slippery tool off.
I choked and cough
felt the loss
as I tried to break
my own neck.
I signed my own check,
by happily self-secluding,
and the excuse I was using
was the best scape goat.
As grief scraped my throat,
I tried to cleanse my palate
stirred my mind like a salad
all vegies and greens mixing,
lying and saying it was healthy
but really just tricking
myself into doing what
I was always going to do.
Death by a thousand losses,
each cut cost me
a fraction of my identity
and hopeful personality.
Until my corpse
swung from the rafters
and tears sprung from
melancholic laughter.
Then nothing came
happily, ever after.
Sep 29, 2021
Sep 29, 2021 at 9:41 AM UTC