KOHLRABI GETS NO RESPECT
DEJA VIEW OF VEGGIE PRODUCE PLATTER
“Who threw the overalls in Mrs Murphy’s chowder?”
Nobody answered so she hollered all the louder.
Who put that ugly plant kohlrabi in the veggie dip?
With a deceptive smirking grin, he let it slip.
It’s a long winding story, to which I will attend.
Paranomasia, plays-on-words, but at the very end.
It was put-down, slurs, with contempt and perhaps abuse.
A meeting of the members of the garden produce.
VEGGIE TALK (AND BACK-TALK)
Overheard garden discussion…I did not go near.
The strangest dirt-throwing garden variety tale you’ll hear.
The self-appointed critic gasped, “No flavor Parsnip,
And not a smigeon of character!” a nasty quip!
“Sprouted alfalfa, you’re fluff, with an inflated cost,
You’re tasteless, tangled and jumbled, I wish you’d get lost!”
I cringed. The worst name-calling! We need a truce!
Also…no harmony out in the garden of produce!
SCENTS AND NON-SCENTS IN MELON COLONY
“Now, you of the onion family, your acid flies
I wish you’d decay. You bring moisture to my eyes.
Garlic would you shut your mouth, you and your outlaw breath.
Any way you slice it, I wish an accidental death.
Hide if you try Mrs. Garlic Clove, you can’t, I hear,
Except in the deep recesses of an old sow’s ear!
And that goes without saying, you should be a recluse.
We’ll thank you for staying out of our garden produce.”
LOSING ONE’S HEAD/HOLY SPROUTS, BATMAN
“Now Mr. Bean, you’re HEARD, not seen, dried that way.
No secret, your noisy reputation blows you away!
‘Some heads will roll’, it once was said. “Yes, and enough said,
As she surveyed the cabbage plants without their heads.
Little Miss Carrot Top pleaded, “I’ll ‘see’ my way clear,
I’ll add color to veggie platters, that’s why I’m here.”
The self-appointed snip quipped and allowed, “What the deuce,
You can be the garnish, on our fresh platters of produce.”
“Off to the slicers, you juicy, big, round red tomatoes.
Followed by ‘SPUD’ and his band of peeled potatoes
We question, are there enough to fry some French Fries too?
Guess so, according to Bud, who says this ‘Spud’s for you’.
There’ll be beets for eats and green peas in long happy pods.
Six peas hiding? Empty, flawed or fraud, what are the odds?
Lett-uce not ‘fall off the turnip truck’, through a defect.
Shabby or drabby, we’ll have said good-bye to respect.”
EVERYTHING FOR THE KITCHEN SINK
“Hide them, don’t put them on the plate, those cauliflower!
They think they’re like the white horse, the hero of the hour.
Please do not squirt, you wet pickle! Not in their eye!”
“Where are those proverbial sour grapes?” the fox did cry.
“Oh, here’s another prickly, green slicing cucumber,
He’s been recently picked, from lying in his slumber.
And Leek, with tongue in cheek, and with aroma indirect,
Like Brussels sprouts, with doubts, and hoping for some respect.”
PLEASE DON’T ‘PUT-DOWN’ MY KOHLRABI
“Hold, it, there’s a distinct briny scent, that lingers still;
Wind driven, it comes wafting slowly from stalks of dill.
Corn, you were born to adorn, with an ear or a cob.
You stalk racoons, then raise an ‘inside job’, a con job!
Celery, of upright fame, you’re called a shade of paint.
Kohlrabi, you are drab, grow above ground, and so quaint!
Your silly looking leaves sprout all around, so bedecked.
A hopeless case if you seek and expect, real respect!”
FORBIDDEN KOHLRABI SAMPLED
[It was at that moment, the annoyed kohlrabi spoke
And that from my night-long reverie, that I awoke.]
I hope…the statute of limitations…has run out,
While I divulge what brought that distorted dream about.
CHASE THE COW.BOY*, start your circuitous route,
Plucked kohlrabi, peeled with my teeth, and savored no doubt.
Too young to ride a horse, so chase on foot, with my quest,
And the moral: Forbidden Kohlrabi…tasted the best.
Perhaps it was misadventure…maybe some defect?
I loved that nature mistake. Yes, KOHLRABI, sans respect.
(c) Copyright 1993, rewrite 2014 by Orv Alveshere, Fargo, ND
* title of my youth book of Cowboy Poetry