The little tomato wept
She was no longer firm and smooth
She was becoming soft in the middle
And truth be told
A few wrinkles were beginning
To make themselves known.
A big tomato looked down at her and said kindly
"Never mind my dear,
For when you were young and green,
You were no use to anyone
But now you are ripe and delicious."
numer darowizny: SRTF/067/SWD .
1 month ago
23 comments:
That big tomato is such a doll!
There's a sentance I've never uttered before.
Except in the South.
Where they shove fried green tomatoes in their mouth.
I feel bad now. I always look down at any tomato with the slightest wrinkle and despise it. Is there any grace for people like me?
That's nice. Did you write that?
I need to ketchup on my poetry readings.
Cheers to being ripe and delicious. ;)
ah, I know just how she feels. But, I do love me some fried green tomatos.
So...you're saying you want to eat me? Is that what you're saying? You dirty bird.
Cora - Blogging does make you say odd things, doesn't it? : )
Scope - Hahaha, I thought of that after I wrote it and I was like "Dang it!"
Mo - It's people like you that force vegetables into the crisper drawer in a desperate attempt to stave off the aging process.
Trinity - of course! Thanks!
Eric - Hahahaha, beautiful.
Hunter - Right?
Char - Haha, go South!
BeckEye - You (tomato) saucy wench.
Why is there never any love for the artichoke?
I must have been spending too long researching cannibalism. That last line sounds rather unnerving to me.
I always knew Big Tomato was my favorite. Now I know why.
Great poem, lass!
SkyDad - Poor old artichoke. So complicated.
Simon - Yikes. Like when I haven't eaten meat in a while and I start giving my dog the side-eye?
Gwen - Aww. Thanks!
That is pure awesome!
HHH - Thanks!!! : )
This almost makes me like tomatoes.
lol. I liked this! so true!!!!!
WWW - You freak, how can you not like tomatoes? (pot=kettle=black)
CA - Heh, thanks : )
A nice way to look at it. I've often thought of the seasons as a metaphor for age.
The year starts in winter, bare, empty, pure, and then is graced with some minor blossoms as it advances into spring. The flowers that grow then are light and lovely, and the air is still cool.
At summer's peak, the land is covered with verdant, explosive vegetation, vibrant petals of all hues, honey and jasmine bursting from every corner of the earth as animals scurry atop it.
And then in Fall, the land's fertility declines, and it begins its decay. Yet that decay is more beautiful than the greenest peak of July.
Does that tell us something about middle age?
BrightenedBoy - Welcome! Yes, that is a lovely way of looking at it. I guess you could say I must be getting just past my summer years, hopefully I will be as philosophical about the fall when it comes!
Beware of October...trust me!
WWW - October is OVER, sucka! ; )
Are you calling me old?? *rolls up sleeves*
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