Fruit Basket - The Banana

The Banana

It is the banana's perennial wish
To begin a career on the stage
She knows she would quickly discover her niche -
Her slapstick would be all the rage.
She'd start with a tumble, leading into a split
Which would certainly foster a laugh
Then, she'd call for an aide from the orchestra pit,
Who would magically slice her in half.
She would hire a monkey to sit on her knee
And a parrot to perch on her head
With a backdrop resembling a tropical tree,
She would, as they say, "knock 'em dead."

Yes, they'd come by the droves
From the jungles and groves
Just to gasp as she hung upside-down!
She'd stand out from the bunch -
She could tell on a hunch
Her theatrics would make her renowned.

There's only one glitch to her vision of fame,
One small hitch keeps success on the shelf
Though her peel's quite elastic,
And her timing fantastic...
She can't seem to slip on herself.

Broccoli

It's the birthday of my all-time favorite rhymer, Cole Porter. I hope he'd approve of this anti-ode to broccoli.

Broccoli

Many say that broccoli
Looks like a squat and sturdy tree
But it's no place to build a fort -
Its bushy branches are too short.
You cannot rest beneath its shade,
While sipping on your lemonade.
Its trunk won't do for hide-and-seeking;
Its stump's too small for public speaking.
Just try to take its sap in winter -
You're sure to get a broccoli splinter!

No, broccoli's of no use at all
...unless you are two inches tall.

Carrots

Carrots

Carrots help you see at night -
Or, so my mother said.
But in the deepest, darkest woods
I'd like a lamp instead.

The Onion: A Tragicomedy

Time to switch from fruits to veggies.

The Onion: A Tragicomedy

Imagine if Euripides
Had hidden onions up his sleeves -
He could’ve made his patrons bawl,
With practically no work at all.
Medea might have even smiled
Or offered candy to a child.
A cost-effective choice, I think:
Twice the tears for half the ink.

Fruit Basket - The Pear: A Tale of Skewed Proportions

This time, the "WTD" word was BELLYING. How could I resist adding to my poetic fruit basket?

The Pear: A Tale of Skewed Proportions

The bellying frame of the average pear
Is a subject that’s up for debate:
Has his curious swelling always been there,
Or was it just something he ate?
Is he sucking his gut in the hopes of a date
With an enviably skinny banana?
Did a bumbling grocer step on his waist
And cause him to bulge in this manner?
My guess is that clothing’s to blame for this riddle -
He couldn’t find pants that would fit ‘round his middle.
But the belt that he purchased to make him look slimmer
Squeezed him right into a pear-shaped dilemmer!
What can we learn from his mis-fit mistake?
What is the message we’re destined to take?
Don’t fret about fashion – just be self-aware,
And try not to go to the depths of this pear.

The Potato: A Poem About Being Prepared

Another "WTD"-inspired poem - the randomly generated word was PREPARATION.

(Yes, I did spend 30 minutes brainstorming and jotting potato prep techniques before I started rhyming. I came up with 41 total. Still can't figure out what rhymes with "vichyssoise.")

The Potato: A Poem About Being Prepared

There are infinite ways to prepare a potato.
Believe me - both Ireland and Idaho say so!
A quick boil will suit the no-frills spud eater,
Or a microwave zap, if you’re that kind of cheater.
Another fine choice is to peel it and fry it,
Though do this with caution if you’re on a diet.
(Your fries can be French, or, if you prefer, Freedom -
Makes no real difference after you eat ‘em.)
You can mash it with gravy, or throw it in stew
Whip it into a thick, sticky glue,
Cream it or steam it, bake it once – even twice
Stuff it into a samosa with rice.
If you’re constructive, build it into a gratin,
Or turn self-destructive and let it go rotten.
Sweet or unsweetened, bliss red or hash brown,
“Bangers and mash,” like in old London-town.
You might do as the Romans and sample some gnocchi;
For a Slavic approach, make your dumplings “pierogi.”
The flatter the better for a latke or chip
As an ale, it’s supposedly lovely to sip.
Curries, soups, salad – the list could go on
Serve the skins by themselves, when the insides are gone!

It’s fair to say, tater tots live with a curse:
As they grow up, they’re prepared for the worst.
You can look in their eyes...they all know that they’re doomed,
With so many methods for being consumed.
Perhaps, we should treat them – at least for one day,
Invite them to dine at our Sunday buffet.
And when they ask, “What’s the starch with this roast?”
Prepare to reply, “Why, a nice piece of toast!”

Fruit Basket: The Watermelon - Remix

About every two weeks, my co-workers at FableVision challenge themselves to an artistic party game called "What The Doodle" (WTD). The rules are simple: 1. Click on the Random Word Generator; 2. Create multimedia to match.

This week, I joined the fun, with a poem inspired by the word "pelagic" (adj. of or pertaining to the open seas or oceans). My buddy Bob was kind enough to include my verse on FableVision's blog, Creative Juices.

The Watermelon: A Sweet and Sour Tale

The watermelon’s fate is tragic –
Despite its name, it’s not pelagic.
All day it lies with rooted plants,
Dreaming of the sea’s expanse.
It sees itself in sailor gear,
Spitting seeds from ear to ear.
A pirate of the bravest kind,
With parrots perched upon its rind!

When twilight falls, with one swift motion,
It breaks from land and joins the ocean.
With glee, it plunges o’er the dock
…and sinks more swiftly than a rock.

Sad but true, it failed to note:
All that’s “water” does not float.

(Though you might think this tale is gory,
There’s a moral to this story:
As you tear off on life’s pursuits,
It’s never bad to check your roots.)