Botanically speaking, tomatoes are the fruit of a vine, just as are cucumbers, squashes, beans and peas.
quote by Horace Gray
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[...] Read more
poem by Caasder Fronds
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Home Grown Tomatoes
There aint nothin in the world that I like better than bacon n lettuce n
Home grown tomatoes up in the mornin, out in the garden
Get you a ripe one, dont pick a hard un plant em in the spring, eat em in
The summer all winter without em is a culinary bummer I forget all about the
Sweatinand the digginevery time I go out and pick me a big un home grown
Tomatoes, home grown tomatoes what would life be like without home grown
Tomatoes only two things that money cant buy
Thats true love and home grown tomatoes you can go out to eat an thats for
Sure but theres nothina home grown tomatoe wont cure put em in a salad, put
em in a stew
You can make your own tomatoe juice
You can eat em with eggs, eat em with gravy you can eat em with beans, pinto
Or navy put em on the side, put em in the middle home grown tomatoes on a hot
Cake griddle home grown tomatoes, home grown tomatoes what would life be like
Without home grown tomatoes only two things that money cant buy
Thats true love and home grown tomatoes if is to change this life I lead
You could call me johnny tomatoe seed
cause I know what this country needs
Home grown tomatoes in every yard you see when I die dont bury me
In a box in a cold dark cemetery
Out in the garden would be much better
cause I could be pushin up a home grown tomatoe home grown tomatoes, home
Grown tomatoes what would life be like without home grown tomatoes only two
Things that money cant buy
Thats true love and home grown tomatoes
Words and music by guy clark
song performed by John Denver
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The Georgics
GEORGIC I
What makes the cornfield smile; beneath what star
Maecenas, it is meet to turn the sod
Or marry elm with vine; how tend the steer;
What pains for cattle-keeping, or what proof
Of patient trial serves for thrifty bees;-
Such are my themes.
O universal lights
Most glorious! ye that lead the gliding year
Along the sky, Liber and Ceres mild,
If by your bounty holpen earth once changed
Chaonian acorn for the plump wheat-ear,
And mingled with the grape, your new-found gift,
The draughts of Achelous; and ye Fauns
To rustics ever kind, come foot it, Fauns
And Dryad-maids together; your gifts I sing.
And thou, for whose delight the war-horse first
Sprang from earth's womb at thy great trident's stroke,
Neptune; and haunter of the groves, for whom
Three hundred snow-white heifers browse the brakes,
The fertile brakes of Ceos; and clothed in power,
Thy native forest and Lycean lawns,
Pan, shepherd-god, forsaking, as the love
Of thine own Maenalus constrains thee, hear
And help, O lord of Tegea! And thou, too,
Minerva, from whose hand the olive sprung;
And boy-discoverer of the curved plough;
And, bearing a young cypress root-uptorn,
Silvanus, and Gods all and Goddesses,
Who make the fields your care, both ye who nurse
The tender unsown increase, and from heaven
Shed on man's sowing the riches of your rain:
And thou, even thou, of whom we know not yet
What mansion of the skies shall hold thee soon,
Whether to watch o'er cities be thy will,
Great Caesar, and to take the earth in charge,
That so the mighty world may welcome thee
Lord of her increase, master of her times,
Binding thy mother's myrtle round thy brow,
Or as the boundless ocean's God thou come,
Sole dread of seamen, till far Thule bow
Before thee, and Tethys win thee to her son
With all her waves for dower; or as a star
Lend thy fresh beams our lagging months to cheer,
Where 'twixt the Maid and those pursuing Claws
A space is opening; see! red Scorpio's self
His arms draws in, yea, and hath left thee more
Than thy full meed of heaven: be what thou wilt-
For neither Tartarus hopes to call thee king,
[...] Read more
Paradise Lost: Book 09
No more of talk where God or Angel guest
With Man, as with his friend, familiar us'd,
To sit indulgent, and with him partake
Rural repast; permitting him the while
Venial discourse unblam'd. I now must change
Those notes to tragick; foul distrust, and breach
Disloyal on the part of Man, revolt,
And disobedience: on the part of Heaven
Now alienated, distance and distaste,
Anger and just rebuke, and judgement given,
That brought into this world a world of woe,
Sin and her shadow Death, and Misery
Death's harbinger: Sad talk!yet argument
Not less but more heroick than the wrath
Of stern Achilles on his foe pursued
Thrice fugitive about Troy wall; or rage
Of Turnus for Lavinia disespous'd;
Or Neptune's ire, or Juno's, that so long
Perplexed the Greek, and Cytherea's son:
If answerable style I can obtain
Of my celestial patroness, who deigns
Her nightly visitation unimplor'd,
And dictates to me slumbering; or inspires
Easy my unpremeditated verse:
Since first this subject for heroick song
Pleas'd me long choosing, and beginning late;
Not sedulous by nature to indite
Wars, hitherto the only argument
Heroick deem'd chief mastery to dissect
With long and tedious havock fabled knights
In battles feign'd; the better fortitude
Of patience and heroick martyrdom
Unsung; or to describe races and games,
Or tilting furniture, imblazon'd shields,
Impresses quaint, caparisons and steeds,
Bases and tinsel trappings, gorgeous knights
At joust and tournament; then marshall'd feast
Serv'd up in hall with sewers and seneshals;
The skill of artifice or office mean,
Not that which justly gives heroick name
To person, or to poem. Me, of these
Nor skill'd nor studious, higher argument
Remains; sufficient of itself to raise
That name, unless an age too late, or cold
Climate, or years, damp my intended wing
Depress'd; and much they may, if all be mine,
Not hers, who brings it nightly to my ear.
The sun was sunk, and after him the star
Of Hesperus, whose office is to bring
[...] Read more
poem by John Milton
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Georgic 2
Thus far the tilth of fields and stars of heaven;
Now will I sing thee, Bacchus, and, with thee,
The forest's young plantations and the fruit
Of slow-maturing olive. Hither haste,
O Father of the wine-press; all things here
Teem with the bounties of thy hand; for thee
With viny autumn laden blooms the field,
And foams the vintage high with brimming vats;
Hither, O Father of the wine-press, come,
And stripped of buskin stain thy bared limbs
In the new must with me.
First, nature's law
For generating trees is manifold;
For some of their own force spontaneous spring,
No hand of man compelling, and possess
The plains and river-windings far and wide,
As pliant osier and the bending broom,
Poplar, and willows in wan companies
With green leaf glimmering gray; and some there be
From chance-dropped seed that rear them, as the tall
Chestnuts, and, mightiest of the branching wood,
Jove's Aesculus, and oaks, oracular
Deemed by the Greeks of old. With some sprouts forth
A forest of dense suckers from the root,
As elms and cherries; so, too, a pigmy plant,
Beneath its mother's mighty shade upshoots
The bay-tree of Parnassus. Such the modes
Nature imparted first; hence all the race
Of forest-trees and shrubs and sacred groves
Springs into verdure.
Other means there are,
Which use by method for itself acquired.
One, sliving suckers from the tender frame
Of the tree-mother, plants them in the trench;
One buries the bare stumps within his field,
Truncheons cleft four-wise, or sharp-pointed stakes;
Some forest-trees the layer's bent arch await,
And slips yet quick within the parent-soil;
No root need others, nor doth the pruner's hand
Shrink to restore the topmost shoot to earth
That gave it being. Nay, marvellous to tell,
Lopped of its limbs, the olive, a mere stock,
Still thrusts its root out from the sapless wood,
And oft the branches of one kind we see
Change to another's with no loss to rue,
Pear-tree transformed the ingrafted apple yield,
And stony cornels on the plum-tree blush.
Come then, and learn what tilth to each belongs
According to their kinds, ye husbandmen,
And tame with culture the wild fruits, lest earth
[...] Read more
poem by Publius Vergilius Maro
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Two Peas In a Pod
Two peas in a pod.
Each other needed.
To feed a wish...
To be together,
And not mystified!
Two peas in a pod.
Each other needed.
To feed a wish...
To be together,
And not mystified!
Two peas in a pod.
Each other needed.
To feed a wish...
To be together,
And not mystified!
Panting...
And rushing out of breath.
To be in step,
And in sync with thought!
Never ones to rant,
Neither of them can't.
They have chosen a life for them that works.
Baggage free and deserted of jerks!
And those who have totally gone berserk,
With degrees to academically define...
An absence of common sense,
In their densed state of minds!
Trying to explain...
A dimming light in their brains!
Two peas in a pod.
Each other needed.
To feed a wish...
To be together,
And not mystified!
Two peas in a pod.
Each other needed.
To feed a wish...
To be together,
And not mystified!
Two peas in a pod.
Each other needed.
To feed a wish...
To be together,
And not mystified!
They don't try to meet
Expectations that defeat
[...] Read more
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Beans
Beans, beans, beans
Jessie had some beans
He was happy, happy, happy
And he ate some beans
Naked, naked, naked
Sitting cross-legged
Naked, naked, naked
And he was happy, happy, happy
And he ate some beans
Wine, wine, wine
Jessie had some wine
He was happy, happy, happy
And he ate some wine
Beans, beans, beans
Daddy ate some beans
And he drank some wine
And he was happy, happy, happy
As he drank some beans
song performed by Nirvana
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Screaming of The Corn
The summer was long
The summer was hot
The summer was dry
Days passed with
Not a cloud in the sky
And we had to water.
Everything that didn’t get water died.
The lawn dried up and blew away.
But the tomatoes grew and grew
And gave wave after wave
Of ruby red fruit.
We ate tomatoes until our gums were sore
Than gave the rest away
Only to find,
come morning yet more.
The pumpkin vines grew across the yard
When the cat walked by
The tendrils rose up
Like snakes and hissed menacingly.
We ate corn every day for a week
until the snap beans over powered
the corn stalks
breaking them down
Under the weight
Of fruit
And then we ate beans
And beans
And beans.
And the zucchini! ! !
The fruit grew right in front of our eyes
Not even waiting for the decency of night.
To veil it’s obscene, priapic swelling.
At night we prayed of the coming frost
And an end to this riotous fecundity.
But our dreams were filled with
feverish images of
Zucchini as big as zeppelins
Tomatoes the size of houses
And the screaming of the corn.
poem by Allan Thorne
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Beans Taste Fine
Now a friend of mine, way back in Chicago
You know, he finally made his pile.
Well he got himself a mansion on Butler and Sheff
An' he was livin' in the latest style;
But I run into him, he was eatin' in a greasy spoon
While parkled in front was his big limousine.
I said, 'Buddy, you've got so much money
How come youre in here, eatin' beans?'
An' he said
'After you've been havin' steak for a long time,
Beans, beans taste fine.
An' after you've been drinkin' champagne and brandy
You gonna settle for wine.'
He said 'The world is funny, and people are strange,
And man is a creature of constant change, and
After you've been havin' steak for a long time
Beans, beans taste fine.'
Now, you know I ran into another friend of mine
In a rowdy old Clark Street Bar.
I said, 'Friend, is it true what I heard about you?
I heard you married a beautiful 18-year-old shapely movie star,
Yet here you sit, tryin' to make out with some barfly
Who's too old and ugly to be true.'
He said, 'Shelley, you're still a very young man
So sit down. I'll explain it all to you.
He said
'After you've been havin' steak for a long time
Beans, beans taste fine.
An' after you've been drinkin' champagne and Chivas Regal
You gonna settle for Thunderbird wine.'
He said 'The world is funny, and people are strange,
And man is a creature of constant change, and
After you've been havin' steak for a long time
Beans, beans taste fine.'
poem by Sheldon Allan Silverstein
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The Helot
I.
Low the sun beat on the land,
Red on vine and plain and wood;
With the wine-cup in his hand,
Vast the Helot herdsman stood.
II.
Quench'd the fierce Achean gaze,
Dorian foemen paus'd before,
Where cold Sparta snatch'd her bays
At Achaea's stubborn door.
III.
Still with thews of iron bound,
Vastly the Achean rose,
Godward from the brazen ground,
High before his Spartan foes.
IV.
Still the strength his fathers knew
(Dauntless when the foe they fac'd)
Vein and muscle bounded through,
Tense his Helot sinews brac'd.
V.
Still the constant womb of Earth,
Blindly moulded all her part;
As, when to a lordly birth,
Achean freemen left her heart.
VI.
Still, insensate mother, bore
Goodly sons for Helot graves;
Iron necks that meekly wore
Sparta's yoke as Sparta's slaves.
VII.
[...] Read more
poem by Isabella Valancy Crawford
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Love On The Vine
I came home yesterday
To the love that I left behind
It seems Ive been far away, yeah
But I know that the berrys ripe on the vine
And I know that the grapes will soon turn to wine
Yes I know Ill be there just in time to love you
I guess I just ran away (I just ran away)
Tried to see what I could not find (what I could not find)
Its been a one act play, yeah
But I know that the berrys ripe on the vine
And I know that the grapes will soon turn to wine
And I know Ill be there just in time to love you
Ive been wasting time (wasting time)
With this old heart of mine (this old heart of mine)
Working it overtime, ah, ah, ah, ah
Just another blue day
Like the ones that I left behind
I know its easy to say, yeah
But I know that the berrys ripe on the vine
And I know that the grapes will soon turn to wine
Yes I know Ill be there just in time to love you
Oh and I know that the berrys ripe on the vine
And I know that the grapes will soon turn to wine
Yes I know Ill be there just in time to love you
Love you on the vine, oh on the vine
Love you on the vine, oh on the vine
I love you on the vine, oh on the vine, ah
On the vine, oh on the vine ...
song performed by America
Added by Lucian Velea
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Seasonable Retour-Knell
SEASONABLE RETOUR KNELL
Variations on a theme...
SEASONABLE ROUND ROBIN ROLE REVERSALS
Author notes
A mirrored Retourne may not only be read either from first line to last or from last to first as seen in the mirrors, but also by inverting the first and second phrase of each line, either rhyming AAAA or ABAB for each verse. thus the number of variations could be multiplied several times.- two variations on the theme have been included here but could have been extended as in SEASONABLE ROUND ROBIN ROLE REVERSALS robi03_0069_robi03_0000
In respect of SEASONABLE ROUND ROBIN ROLE REVERSALS
This composition has sought to explore linguistic potential. Notes and the initial version are placed before rather than after the poem.
Six variations on a theme have been selected out of a significant number of mathematical possibilities using THE SAME TEXT and a reverse mirror for each version. Mirrors repeat the seasons with the lines in reverse order.
For the second roll the first four syllables of each line are reversed, and sense is retained both in the normal order of seasons and the reversed order as well... The 3rd and 4th variations offer ABAB rhyme schemes retaining the original text. The 5th and 6th variations modify the text into rhyming couplets.
Given the linguistical structure of this symphonic composition the score could be read in inversing each and every line and each and every hemistitch. There are minor punctuation differences between versions.
One could probably attain sonnet status for each of the four seasons and through partioning in 3 groups of 4 syllables extend the possibilites ad vitam.
Seasonable Round Robin Roll Reversals
robi03_0069_robi03_0000 QXX_DNZ
Seasonable Retour-Knell
robi03_0070_robi03_0069 QXX_NXX
26 March 1975 rewritten 20070123
lllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllll lllllllllllllllllll
For previous version see below
_______________________________________
SPRING SUMMER
Life is at ease Young lovers long
Land under plough; To hold their dear;
Whispering trees, Dewdrops among,
Answering cow. Bold, know no fear.
Blossom, the bees, Life full of song,
Burgeoning bough; Cloudless and clear;
Soft-scented breeze, Days fair and long,
Spring warms life now. Summer sends cheer.
AUTUMN WINTER
Each leaf decays, Harvested sheaves
Each life must bow; And honeyed hives;
Our salad days Trees stripped of leaves,
Are ending now. Jack Frost has knives.
Fruit heavy lays Time, Prince of thieves,
Bending the bough, - Onward he drives,
[...] Read more
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Adam: A Sacred Drama. Act 2.
SCENE I. -- CHORUS OF ANGELS Singing.
Now let us garlands weave
Of all the fairest flowers,
Now at this early dawn,
For new-made man, and his companion dear;
Let all with festive joy,
And with melodious song,
Of the great Architect
Applaud this noblest work,
And speak the joyous sound,
Man is the wonder both of Earth and Heaven.
FIRST Angel.
Your warbling now suspend,
You pure angelic progeny of God,
Behold the labour emulous of Heaven!
Behold the woody scene,
Decked with a thousand flowers of grace divine;
Here man resides, here ought he to enjoy
In his fair mate eternity of bliss.
SECOND Angel.
How exquisitely sweet
This rich display of flowers,
This airy wild of fragrance,
So lovely to the eye,
And to the sense so sweet.
THIRD Angel.
O the sublime Creator,
How marvellous his works, and more his power!
Such is the sacred flame
Of his celestial love,
Not able to confine it in himself,
He breathed, as fruitful sparks
From his creative breast,
The Angels, Heaven, Man, Woman, and the World.
FOURTH Angel.
Yes, mighty Lord! yes, hallowed love divine!
Who, ever in thyself completely blest,
Unconscious of a want,
Who from thyself alone, and at thy will,
Bright with beignant flames,
Without the aid of matter or of form,
[...] Read more
poem by William Cowper
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Adam: A Sacred Drama. Act 3.
SCENE I.-- Adam and Eve.
Oh, my beloved companion!
Oh thou of my existence,
The very heart and soul!
Hast thou, with such excess of tender haste,
With ceaseless pilgrimage,
To find again thy Adam,
Thus solitary wandered?
Behold him! Speak! what are thy gentle orders?
Why dost thou pause? what ask of God? what dost thou?
Eve. Adam, my best beloved!
My guardian and my guide!
Thou source of all my comfort, all my joy!
Thee, thee alone I wish,
And in these pleasing shades
Thee only have I sought.
Adam. Since thou hast called thy Adam,
(Most beautiful companion),
The source and happy fountain of thy joy;
Eve, if to walk with me
It now may please thee, I will show thee love,
A sight thou hast not seen;
A sight so lovely, that in wonder thou
Wilt arch thy graceful brow.
Look thou, my gentle bride, towards that path,
Of this so intricate and verdant grove,
Where sit the birds embowered;
Just there, where now, with soft and snowy plumes,
Two social doves have spread their wings for flight,
Just there, thou shalt behold, (oh pleasing wonder),
Springing amid the flowers,
A living stream, that with a winding course
Flies rapidly away;
And as it flies, allures
And tempts you to exclaim, sweet river, stay!
Hence eager in pursuit
You follow, and the stream, as it it had
Desire to sport with you,
Through many a florid, many a grassy way,
Well known to him, in soft concealment flies:
But when at length he hears,
You are afflicted to have lost his sight,
He rears his watery locks, and seems to say,
Gay with a gurgling smile,
'Follow! ah, follow still my placid course!
If thou art pleased with me, with thee I sport.
And thus with sweet deceit he leads you on
[...] Read more
poem by William Cowper
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What Smith Knew About Farming
There wasn't two purtier farms in the state
Than the couple of which I'm about to relate;--
Jinin' each other--belongin' to Brown,
And jest at the edge of a flourishin' town.
Brown was a man, as I understand,
That allus had handled a good 'eal o' land,
And was sharp as a tack in drivin' a trade--
For that's the way most of his money was made.
And all the grounds and the orchards about
His two pet farms was all tricked out
With poppies and posies
And sweet-smellin' rosies;
And hundreds o' kinds
Of all sorts o' vines,
To tickle the most horticultural minds
And little dwarf trees not as thick as your wrist
With ripe apples on 'em as big as your fist:
And peaches,--Siberian crabs and pears,
And quinces--Well! ANY fruit ANY tree bears;
And th purtiest stream--jest a-swimmin' with fish,
And--JEST O'MOST EVERYTHING HEART COULD WISH!
The purtiest orch'rds--I wish you could see
How purty they was, fer I know it 'ud be
A regular treat!--but I'll go ahead with
My story! A man by the name o' Smith--
(A bad name to rhyme,
But I reckon that I'm
Not goin' back on a Smith! nary time!)
'At hadn't a soul of kin nor kith,
And more money than he knowed what to do with,--
So he comes a-ridin' along one day,
And HE says to Brown, in his offhand way--
Who was trainin' some newfangled vines round a bay-
Winder--'Howdy-do--look-a-here--say:
W hat'll you take fer this property here?--
I'm talkin' o' leavin' the city this year,
And I want to be
Where the air is free,
And I'll BUY this place, if it ain't too dear!'--
Well--they grumbled and jawed aroun'--
'I don't like to part with the place,' says Brown;
'Well,' says Smith, a-jerkin' his head,
'That house yonder--bricks painted red--
Jest like this'n--a PURTIER VIEW--
Who is it owns it?' 'That's mine too,'
Says Brown, as he winked at a hole in his shoe,
'But I'll tell you right here jest what I KIN do:--
If you'll pay the figgers I'll sell IT to you.,'
Smith went over and looked at the place--
Badgered with Brown, and argied the case--
[...] Read more
poem by James Whitcomb Riley
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In a Manner of Speaking
In a manner of speaking, I want to kill you,
said the drunk redneck to his wife,
In a manner of speaking, I don't love you,
said my ex (turned vegan) to me,
as I returned from a psych ward, hoping for
some sort of reconciliation,
And in a manner of speaking, the whole
world has gone to shit, that no mentally
unbalanced poet can improve upon,
In a manner of speaking, I was just a haiku
before I birthed an epic poem in 2008
and it went something like:
In a manner of speaking…
In a manner of speaking, there is plenty of
beer and loose women,
In a manner of speaking, there is plenty of
internet journals with useless information,
In a manner of speaking, there are plenty of
assholes writing about getting laid and anal sex
on MySpace,
In a manner of speaking, my friend got raped
a few years ago and now has occasional herpes
outbreaks, which are quite disturbing
to her husband,
In a manner of speaking, I'm losing faith in humanity
and love at times,
In a manner of speaking, we just go through the motions,
hoping for something to change or something
spectacular to happen.
But I don't really know any more,
trying to make sense of it all, screaming for some sort of
sanity that eludes me,
In a manner of speaking, I feel alone here,
unable to connect to what's around me-
I just told some guy at a bar that I was a Dallas Cowboys
fan and I don't even watch football,
and he told me to come in my 'gear' on Sunday,
In a manner of speaking, I feel somewhat liberated
because I have no clue as to what I'm doing,
knowing that there is really no escape.
January 8,2008
-Alexander Shaumyan
poem by Alexander Shaumyan
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Dogtown
Okay.
The towns dawning, Im the only one awake.
The streets are whistling, I light my fourth cigarette.
I think of my friends, they were once not so dead.
What are they thinking now?
One day Ill be just a little stone,
Nobodyll know that the stone had such emotions.
Anyway, Im always on the run.
Someday Ill be remembered for the phone calls I never made,
Letters I never mailed,
And stories I never finished telling anyone.
The towns yawning, I let my dog walk me around.
He took a shoot and people smiled,
I tried the same and people frowned.
Yes, its a dog, dogtown.
One day lets be a pair of trees,
Nobodyll know that the trees had such a history.
Anyway, wed never be this lonely.
Someday Ill be remembered for the fine words I meant to keep,
A warm smile I meant to leave,
And a true song I meant to finish writing all my life.
Yes, its a dogtown, its a dogtown,
Yes, its a dogtown, its a dogtown.
Dog, dog, dog, dog, dog, dog, dog, dog, dogtown.
Peas porridge luck, peas porridge stuck,
Peas porridge in the pot nine years old.
Some gets paid, some gets grades,
Some stays in the pot nine years old.
Yes, its a dogtown, its a dogtown,
Yes, its a dogtown, its a dogtown.
Dog, dog, dog, dog, dog, dog, dog, dog, dogtown.
Peas porridge loved, peas porridge spoiled,
Peas porridge in the pot nine years old.
Some gets laid, some gets slayed,
Some stays in the pot nine years old.
Yes, its a dogtown, its a dogtown,
Yes, its a dogtown, its a dogtown.
Dog, dog, dog, dog, dog, dog, dog, dog, dogtown.
Dogtown, dogtown, dogtown, dogtown,
Dogtown, dogtown, dogtown -.
song performed by Yoko Ono
Added by Lucian Velea
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Dogtown
Okay.
The towns dawning, Im the only one awake.
The streets are whistling, I light my fourth cigarette.
I think of my friends, they were once not so dead.
What are they thinking now?
One day Ill be just a little stone,
Nobodyll know that the stone had such emotions.
Anyway, Im always on the run.
Someday Ill be remembered for the phone calls I never made,
Letters I never mailed,
And stories I never finished telling anyone.
The towns yawning, I let my dog walk me around.
He took a shoot and people smiled,
I tried the same and people frowned.
Yes, its a dog, dogtown.
One day lets be a pair of trees,
Nobodyll know that the trees had such a history.
Anyway, wed never be this lonely.
Someday Ill be remembered for the fine words I meant to keep,
A warm smile I meant to leave,
And a true song I meant to finish writing all my life.
Yes, its a dogtown, its a dogtown,
Yes, its a dogtown, its a dogtown.
Dog, dog, dog, dog, dog, dog, dog, dog, dogtown.
Peas porridge luck, peas porridge stuck,
Peas porridge in the pot nine years old.
Some gets paid, some gets grades,
Some stays in the pot nine years old.
Yes, its a dogtown, its a dogtown,
Yes, its a dogtown, its a dogtown.
Dog, dog, dog, dog, dog, dog, dog, dog, dogtown.
Peas porridge loved, peas porridge spoiled,
Peas porridge in the pot nine years old.
Some gets laid, some gets slayed,
Some stays in the pot nine years old.
Yes, its a dogtown, its a dogtown,
Yes, its a dogtown, its a dogtown.
Dog, dog, dog, dog, dog, dog, dog, dog, dogtown.
Dogtown, dogtown, dogtown, dogtown,
Dogtown, dogtown, dogtown -.
song performed by Yoko Ono
Added by Lucian Velea
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Small Tomato Sprawl Scrawl
SMALL TOMATO SPRAWL SCRAWL
Kindly refer to notes
We’re tomatoes [b]red together,
dependant on capricious weather
happy-go-lucky hell-for-leather
advancing, never asking whether
we’ll end in bird crop, rot, - whatever
providing seeds sprout on forever.
* * * * *
Read of the facts that history
recounts for all posterity.
Around five hundred years ago,
learn, inwardly digest, and know
cerasiforme – like a cherry –
appearance then, as tiny tree.
Columbus brought us ‘cross the sea
in fourteen hundred ninety three,
Mattioli's Herbal mentionned though
he thought us poison pomi d’oro –
gold apple – red then none could see.
We came through Spain to Italy.
Across Atlantic bravely we
sailed in the fifteenth century,
though there’s some evidence to show
that ‘stout Cortez’ from Mexico
imported us as seeds or tree
the Aztecs called xitomatli.
The Aztecs added salt, chili,
to make their salsa formerly,
as sprawling vine the tomato
advances and is wont to grow
up reaching sometimes metres three –
as many yards for backyards’ glee.
Before first cookbook recipe
Time flew with true celerity –
Two hundred years - and why so slow?
Confused with Deadly Nightshade’s glow
or Belladonna’s poison pea -
witch wolf-peach named in Germany
Book edited in Napoli
began tamed famed name followed free
[...] Read more
poem by Jonathan Robin
Added by Poetry Lover
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Goblin Market
MORNING and evening
Maids heard the goblins cry:
"Come buy our orchard fruits,
Come buy, come buy:
Apples and quinces,
Lemons and oranges,
Plump unpecked cherries-
Melons and raspberries,
Bloom-down-cheeked peaches,
Swart-headed mulberries,
Wild free-born cranberries,
Crab-apples, dewberries,
Pine-apples, blackberries,
Apricots, strawberries--
All ripe together
In summer weather--
Morns that pass by,
Fair eves that fly;
Come buy, come buy;
Our grapes fresh from the vine,
Pomegranates full and fine,
Dates and sharp bullaces,
Rare pears and greengages,
Damsons and bilberries,
Taste them and try:
Currants and gooseberries,
Bright-fire-like barberries,
Figs to fill your mouth,
Citrons from the South,
Sweet to tongue and sound to eye,
Come buy, come buy."
Evening by evening
Among the brookside rushes,
Laura bowed her head to hear,
Lizzie veiled her blushes:
Crouching close together
In the cooling weather,
With clasping arms and cautioning lips,
With tingling cheeks and finger-tips.
"Lie close," Laura said,
Pricking up her golden head:
We must not look at goblin men,
We must not buy their fruits:
Who knows upon what soil they fed
Their hungry thirsty roots?"
"Come buy," call the goblins
Hobbling down the glen.
"O! cried Lizzie, Laura, Laura,
You should not peep at goblin men."
[...] Read more
poem by Christina Georgina Rossetti
Added by Poetry Lover
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