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.)

Fruit Basket: The Pineapple

The Pineapple

“Pineapple” translates to “puzzlement,”
In some forms of tropical dialect.
For it’s quite hard to know really what is meant
By “pine.” And to “apple,” I must object.
For this lexicon-twisting infraction,
Some fruits might demand legal action.
But the case would dismiss rather quickly,
Since the evidence is clearly too prickly.

Ode To My Boyfriend's New Female Roommate

Jesseanna's note: A little insecurity from May 8, 2007. Epilogue - the "new roommate" was cute, but my boyfriend is now my husband. So, everything worked out.

Ode To My Boyfriend's New Female Roommate

Before you walk upon the rug,
I hope you’ll wipe your feet.
Before you cook, I hope you’ll ask:
“What would you like to eat?”
Before you go to work each day,
I hope you’ll check the lights.
Before you dump your laundry in,
Take your darks from his whites.
Before you watch a DVD,
You’ll see the volume’s low?
Before you split the bills, I hope
You’ll figure what you owe.

Before you sign the lease, I hope
You’ll take this with some salt:
I hope you’re quiet, clean, sincere, and gen’rous to a fault.
But one more wish, permit me, and I will not ask for more --
Those "before and after" photos?
...hope you look like the “before.”

Fruit Basket: The Cantaloupe and The Watermelon

Gotta squeeze in my rhymes about melons before the summer ends! The first one's heavy on the punning - might be better read aloud.

The Cantaloupe

The cantaloupe is solitary –
A melon who will never marry.
He has two tickets to Tahiti,
But simply can’t approach his sweetie.
Meanwhile, she turns a greenish hue:
Whatever will his honeydew?

The Watermelon

The watermelon can’t lay claim
To the “water” in its name.
There is no fruit more ill equip’d
To be the captain of a ship.
It cannot swim, or even float
So, please don’t let it drive your boat.

Ode to My Crawfish Etouffe

Jesseanna's note: Have a NOLA delicacy with your fruit! This poem is straight from a summer's day on the bayou - July 3, 2006.

Ode to My Crawfish Etouffe

O spicy crawfish etouffe!
Such fun to eat -
So tough to say.
Gumbo is not quite so willful
For it lacks the extra syll’ble.
Then, the choice of “cray” and “craw”
Which one to pick? Let’s call a draw.
For, after all, they are both fishes
Which makes them equally delicious.