It's tomatoes, offered my friend,
No trend or vee eight blend.
Just one will relieve your plight,
A beef steak, jubilee, gardeners delight.
Any red, purple, green or yellow,
Any one, your heart will mellow.
No not diced, baked, or steamy,
Try the red McDreamy.
From the garden or the grocer,
A little salt on top, ok kosher.
If your hearts a disaster, broken,
The fix of course red Hoboken.
Apples keep the doctor away nay nay.
A single Juliet Red your mood will sway
Chase minds chaos off, will make merry,
One handful of bombello cherry.
Fruit or vegetable asked I,
Does not matter his reply.
Is the store the start of my quest,
His answer garden grown the best
His advice so sound so clear.
A solid freind so dear.
Off I went to aisle nine.
Vegetables full simple sublime.
Among other searchers tah mah to.
Searching perfection toe to toe.
Desperate looks serious silly.
There I found a perfect boxcar Willie.
Perfect red and round.
Yes delicious I found
Big bite this cure I tried.
My friend had not lied.
No drugs or visits physician.
No psychiatric technician.
The cure for cloudy heart or mind
Just one single clementine.
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His Haibun
He does not like poetry; I write it anyway and do not tell him. It's true his face is not a poet's face. It is round and open, youthful; too apt to be compared to the sun. His nose is neat. It is impossible to imagine him smoking a cigarette, terse, full of cheekbones and tension. His warmth burns my fingertips. I am here for his fascinating body, the haphazard freckles I touch one by one; he is here for my eyes, just my eyes. A sunbeam sneaks through the curtains and pierces us both, sizzling the spices of his skin. I inhale and wrap myself in him. He kisses my eyes.
By TheSpinstress6 days ago in Poets
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