Poetry Tuesday: Three Poems About Radishes

(Note to Betty fans: By now you can probably tell Betty had a picture-taking spree in the produce department.  In the coming weeks, you'll be seeing more of these pictures.  They have inspired me!  Produce does that!)

Write About a Radish. . .
                         -- Karla Kuskin

Write about a radish
Too many people write about the moon.

The night is black
The stars are small and high
The clock unwinds its ever-ticking tune
Hills gleam dimly
Distant nighthawks cry.
A radish rises in the waiting sky.


 

The Man Pulling Radishes
                            --Kobayashi Issa

The man pulling radishes
pointed my way
with a radish.

Spoon River Vegetables

              Radish

                         --GC aka BB

It is true.

I have squandered my life.

While the frugal celery

strove to tower,

and the conscientious pepper

struggled for dignity,

I was busy admiring the way 

my healthy-rosebud-complexion

spread so evenly over 

my satin polished skin,

taut over my

luscious rotundity.

I loved it there

in my darkness.

I relished the warmth

of the moist lover 

enveloping my swelling belly.

How was I to know

I wore green flags on my head?

But I have never been angry.

I have no regrets.

When they pulled me

from the ground

the earth kissed me goodbye.