Sunday, 20 August 2017

Vegetable Verse

I have grown, but strangely never eaten, nor written poetry inspired by, courgettes - Cucurbita pepo and known by Americans as Zucchinis - but these culinary and literary omissions are about to be put right.
Yesterday, the staff room of my workplace was briefly subjected to a vegetable invasion, colonized by courgettes, as the contents of an allotment were laid upon a work surface, up for grabs.  I chose the smallest of these ambiguous squashes - like mis-shapen bananas yet too tough and marrowy to be called a fruit in anything other than the strictest botanical sense - and all the way home, wondered what ever I might do with it?

The solution to this Cucurbitous conundrum presented its self by means of words thrown forth by the contemplation of its unique shape and colours - though whether these squashy scribbles merit the title of poetry, I will let you be the judge. For myself, now that I have sharpened the pencil of my literary gaze sufficiently to take in an observation of  Cucurbita pepo, the only course of action left to me is now surely to break another duck with this weird and wonderful vegetable, by eating it.

Crocodilian-coloured carrot,
candle of green wax,
like the ridge-ribbed body
of a glitzy lizard,
your emeraldesque, 
viridian skin,
in a dew of glinting specks,
 you entice the knife
to puncture your facade 
of toughened flesh
and spill the wet,
life-lathered juices
bottled up inside.

Update: Following the heavy rains we have had, I was thrilled to see today that my own courgette plant is now starting to bear fruit:

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