Poetry, Uncategorized
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Just One Bite?

Stop to find the forgotten few

beneath the weeds like hidden jewels.

Red, rose, yellow and green

The most luscious fruits I’ve ever seen.

They look glorious and plump from above.

Fresh tomatoes I do so love.

Stop to gather all the loot

bend down and look to find the shoot

From which to gently pry away

My delectable prize for the day.

Getting closer, drawing near

Whiteflies fluttering around my ears.

I’m so close, I can nearly taste it

That beautiful tomato must not be wasted.

The hunt is over,

I’m ready to strike.

Pruners at the ready,

Grocery bag at my side.

Stop for a moment.

Remember the story

of all it took

to go from seed, to sprout, to flower, to fruit.

So take one last look and remember the story

while you stare at this fruit in all it’s glory.

Mental picture taken.

Pride has been gathered.

There’s no mistakin’

This plant looks quite tattered.

But dammit, we started this thing from a seed

and we got it to make fruit and that fruit is for me!

Enough messing around,

Enough has been spoken,

Pick that mater before it gets broken!

Holy canoli,

You’ve…GOT…TO…BE…JOKIN!

Blood is rising

up into my face.

I cannot believe this big disgrace!

I pluck the fruit from the vine

only to feel as if I’ve been slimed.

My beauty,

my treasure,

my precious jewel,

Has been bitten, one bite

that could not be viewed.

But certainly felt

the juices running and streaming.

Face has gone red and now I am screaming

For the love of Pete! And a choice other few

Why is it that you have to do

this horrible, terrible, awful thing,

to my tomato

my pride,

my reason to sing?

For the love of Pete!  And a choice other few,

Just eat the whole thing,

Is that so hard to do?

If you’d have left no evidence

for me to find,

I would not feel the urge to shoot your behind!

So get that hiney back over here.

Finish your tomato, you stupid deer!

Or Raccoon,

Or squirrel

Whatever you are.

Finish your tomato

or I’ll hunt you with my car!

Now tossing tomatoes

up over the fence.

One, two, three……Ten

My pride has gone humble

my anger subsided.

If they think they have won,

they are misguided.

Critters score one.

But I will not crumble.

There will be a next time,

But I will not fumble.

I WILL get there first,

to the treasure site.

I WILL find the loot.

I WILL take the first bite.

And one other thing…..

I will actually finish my fruit.

Original Poetry by Marie Stephens  Copyright 2013

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