Tomato said, “I will speak for the life of the sauce that finds me squashed or diced and sometimes whole.
Fig said, “I will speak for the jam that sweetens my flavor in a delightful spread on biscuit.
Onion said, “I belong in every garden, in every dish and in your tears.
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NaPoWriMo Day 20 prompt to write a poem that anthropomorphizes food.
When I was ten, I learned to swim. To hold my breath, submerge, and move underwater. Only the torso, legs and arms of other people were visible. No heads. I never timed these underwater adventures but swam about like some kind of fish. Eyes open but no gills; just my expanded lungs, increasing capacity to stay under longer and longer. I became an orca scouting its prey. My feet, the fluke, pounding surface with each new breath. My mouth spewing water into the sunshine.
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NaPoWriMo Day 8 prompt to write your alter ego.
Bloom in sunshine delirious
from deep the ground mysterious
puts on a show for all of us
don’t make a fuss don’t make a fuss
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Before too long it will wither
turn dry and brown when we shiver
time to give thanks to the giver
oh come hither oh come hither
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dVerse prompt to write a monotetra— eight syllables each rhyming line except for the fourth line which is a four count repeat. Of course I had to write about the garden.
Emojiing again
🦩🐓☁️🌊🐚👙
So many times
this nursery rhyme spoken
a tongue twister
with its own history
Pierre Poivre
missionary from France
with an eye on peppers
places to plant and grow
and a recipe for pickling
no refrigeration
so Peter Piper picked
and pickled
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dVerse prompt on stream of consciousness following my first experiment with pickling peppers. This rhyme was a childhood favorite.
great souls in little bodies—- Virgil Book 4
Cicadas hidden
tremor in trees
united in crescendo before ten in the morning
roses need water
blue hydrangeas ready to droop
fig ripens
one on the branch that birds have forgotten
this is a day before the rain
tomorrow will be a deeper watering
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dVerse prompt with a blue quadrille
In spring and summer most of my time is used in the garden
at times I think I have too much garden
Picking and plucking along the ground
weeds are like words in my garden
Time to share with hummingbirds and bees
who bury themselves in plants of the garden
Slugs don’t stand a chance if they climb through my fence
I will murder them if they enter green garden
I could buy a bag of peppers from the grocery store
would rather I harvest from plants in the garden
Joy of seeing a chipmunk or black-capped chickadee
as they pick out seeds from the garden
Now I know why my beans didn’t grow
because of that mole in my garden
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dVerse prompt to write a ghazal
When summer came it was hot with no air conditioning. None in the house or in the car, just midriff top, ponytail and short shorts. I walked barefoot to the pool everyday, my soles grew tough from the concrete. When too hot to walk I rode my bike downhill, arms splayed out, look ma no hands, creating my own current of air all the way to the park and the pool. My legs were strong from the journey home.
I loved butterflies, little green snakes and swimming, but mostly the weekends to churn the homemade ice cream. The kids would turn the crank, add the rock salt and turn the crank more until the egg, cream and sugar mixture thickened. Mom would serve it up after dinner. There was no better way to chill than hand-churned ice cream.
temperature will rise
summer heat pours out memories
time not forgotten
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dVerse Haibun on summer
photo courtesy of Karen McDougal at KarensChicNShabby
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