Purple Beans
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The purple beans are ready for harvest
From long vines upon the tired old fence
Of course there’s inspection with a taste test
Please believe the fresh-picked flavor is intense
Have to be sure not to eat the whole lot
Before I can get them into the pot.
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(An English Sestet Poem)
Summer Blackberries
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The fruits of summer in my hand
All sunshine and soil and rain
Sweet purple sugars leave a stain
Exquisite flavors from the land
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(An Envelope Stanza)
Rhubarb
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I don’t know why but I grew it
To figure out now what to do
Bake, roast, mash, sauté, or stew it
To peel or leave as it grew.
So sour to taste when I chew it
These plants – don’t need more than a few
*
Rough green leaves grow to large sizes
Ruby red stalks are the best part
The flavor really surprises
Add sugar to make it less tart
Sweeten when the chance arises
Not eating the leaves is so smart
*
Don’t know if it’s veggie or fruit
All depends on how it’s applied
You ingest neither leaves nor root
Normally you don’t see it fried
To grow is an easy pursuit
To use you may be stupefied
*
I’m thrilled in my garden it grows
Each spring I choose to display it
In sauces and in pies it goes
Season’s end – how to delay it?
The people who enjoy it know
Craving – be sure to obey it.
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(An Inverted Refrain Poem)
Cringe
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Egg
Enormous
Hard to imagine
This emerged from petite hen
Whoa!
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(An Oddquain Poem)
6 Pack
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Opted to take home a six pack
My will power shut down
When I spied them
Then I tried them
For these they are renown
*
Better than any from my town
Lovingly deep-fried them
Each made from scratch
Batch after batch
Some with fruit inside them.
*
The icing identified them
I know there’s no match
Cooling on a rack
Worth a greenback
I’ll put them down the hatch.
*
My buckle I’ll have to detach
Oh please cut me some slack
Not a let down
I smile don’t frown
and know I will be back.
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(A Roundabout Poem)
First Egg of the Season
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Today I found the first egg
Tucked in the pine flakes of the nest.
I am not sure which of the flock
Of colorful happy hens
Decided to lay the harbinger of spring
First.
*
This perfect pale pink egg was first
Hopefully of many an egg
Laid throughout the spring
Deposited into the nest
By the chatty hens
That make up my flock.
*
I’m enamored by my flock
Though they aren’t my first
They are smart and chatty hens
That lay colorful eggs
Blues, pinks, browns fill the nest
Late winter summer fall and spring.
*
Their productions ramps up in spring
And busy stays my flock
Rotating from coop to yard to nest
The same speckled lady comes to the door first
As I let them out and then check for an egg
laid by one of my personable hens.
*
I just love my feathered fluffy hens
Molting in fall, laying in spring
Regularly producing eggs
Chirps and squawks from the flock.
Without a rooster they don’t awaken first
Then after a morning wander they return to their nest.
*
Each day I check for a surprise in the nest
Left not by choice but by instinct by the hens.
I feed them and water them first
And let them roam free on the warm days of spring
They make a friendly boisterous flock
Talking back, starting trouble, announcing an egg.
*
There is nothing like finding eggs tucked safely into the nest
Produced by my flock of happy colorful hens
Though they produce a lot summer fall and spring the best is finding the first.
(A Sestina Poem)
A Picture and a Poem 