The Heroic Carrot
The floods have ruined the British vegetable growers.
Tough. But
the supermarkets will just buy elsewhere,
we'll hardly notice, apart from TV's brief comment...
This week, what of our organic vegetable bag
whose carrots are usually a joyful memory
of what carrots, pulled yesterday, used to, still can, taste like?
- so this week, just one, huge carrot. The Great Survivor.
Gnarled, a giant among the pretty, washed, and fashionable ones
smiling under the golden light of supermarket shelves -
it looked as if it had fought battles, come through wars
which of course few want to be reminded of
by those old veterans with their tales of times
too testing of mortality for us to think about...
eaten later, it would have a subtler taste -
of gratitude, of praise.
A kitchen; a carrot; a man holding a knife,
on the edge of tears.
poem by Michael Shepherd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
0011 Scrubbing Carrots
Every Friday, a happy smiling man
who says he’s a mixture of Spain, Trinidad and England
delivers a bag of organic vegetables
and a bag of organic fruit, and
it’s a bit like a child’s Christmas bran-tub adventure –
some strange vegetables I’ve never seen before
and would never have dared to buy;
or eat, if I found them growing in the garden…
but it’s worth it for the carrots alone –
they taste, well, OK, like carrots used to taste..
and each week, they come from a different grower, so
they arrive clean and smooth one week,
clotted with earth another, but
as Rilke might say, rich with carrot-ness..
and I clean them with a respect which they
and the sheer living greenness of the greens
and other vegetables naturally demand of me
so that vegetable-cleaning
which used to be a chore done with attention
only at half strength, is now something more -
and in this mood, almost overlooked small great miracles of life
just happen of themselves –
two weeks ago, I watched amazed
as my two hands of themselves
devised a new way of cleaning carrots –
the hands reversed their roles: left hand
now held the scouring pad, diagonally,
and the right hand spiralled the carrot
in the pad… and lo! those etched horizontal lines
of dirt were perfectly removed..
and the isness of the carrot
and the isness of its servant
were together one silent song
where, it seemed,
the forgotten met the remembered
and rejoiced.
poem by Michael Shepherd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
You cook vegetable soup
You cook vegetable soup
and I look at you
while you cut green beans,
carrots, onions, celery, parsley
and tomatoes into two pots.
There are herbs, spices
and pepper that you are scattering
and two types of soup powder
that you throw in
and the pots steam and buzz
while I am washing the dishes
and the smell
makes me hungry
and I wonder
if the soup
are going to taste as good
as it smells.
We drink tee
and there’s medicine
that you give for flu
to me
and it’s great
to be with you
to read the look
in your beautiful eyes.
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
After The County Show
“Hello carrot, my word you do look tasty.”
“Oh, hello knife you too look pretty sharp
a cut above the rest I’d say, but let’s not be too hasty.”
“I say carrot, are you here for today’s county dinner? ”
“No, no not I, I’m a showpiece,
voted best of the show, a gold ribbon winner.”
“I knew you were special, lying next to the sole from Dover,
but surely you must know what you’re doing here
now that the county show is over? ”
“I reckon they want to show me off to all the local villagers.”
“Somehow carrot I think you’d better reckon again,
whilst I slice up the beans and cabbages.”
poem by Orlando Belo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A dish of carrot hastily cooked may still has soil not cleaned off the vegetable.
To offer at no cost
Shown or withdrawn,
The carrot is not eaten.
But only as it is shown
The rabbit is on run
And the carrot, too, is shone.
If you are withdrawn
I would cease to run
And you lose the fun.
Why is this futile act then?
If you shut out
I am done away with.
If you show up
I am enlivened.
In both ways
You’re not broken.
Why not the status quo, then?
27.09.99
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A poor Barber's Rabbit
I have only one carrot
And I feed you little portions.
Please do not get misunderstand me
I am going for an interview now
For a barber's position!
If I get a chance to hold the razor firmly
Definitely I cut all the carrots in Judas's illegal farm
And bring you a lorry load in his wheelbarrow!
*We all make mistakes, but everyone makes different mistakes.
-Ludwig van Beethoven
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Lifestyle - Pressure
i feel unhassled and at ease with myself
the organic pomegranate and purple carrot juice
i just downed have warned my heart to
work without exerting pressure on me
note courtesy of wikipedia;
The pomegranate (Punica granatum) is a fruit-bearing deciduous shrub or small tree growing to between five and eight metres tall. The pomegranate is native to Iran and has been cultivated and naturalized over the whole Mediterranean region and the Caucasus since ancient times. It is widely cultivated throughout Afghanistan, Algeria, Armenia, Azerbaijan, Iran, Iraq, India, Pakistan, Syria, Turkey, the drier parts of southeast Asia, Peninsular Malaysia, the East Indies, and tropical Africa. Introduced into Latin America and California by Spanish settlers in 1769, pomegranate is now cultivated in parts of California and Arizona for juice production.
In the Northern Hemisphere, the fruit is typically in season from September to February.[3] In the Southern Hemisphere, it is in season from March to May.
Purple carrot:
Purple carrots (usually orange inside) have even more beta carotene than their orange cousins, and get their pigment from an entirely different class, the anthocyanins, these pigments act as powerful antioxidants, grabbing and holding on to harmful free radicals in the body. Anthocyanins also help prevent heart disease by slowing blood clotting and and are good anti inflammatory agents. These originate from Turkey, and the Middle and Far East.
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
You Better Spice This With Brown Sugar
Last night...
I whipped up something,
To quench my appetite.
I diced onions and green peppers.
With tomatoes,
Broccoli and carrots too!
Knowing this would be liked.
I added red cabbage, potatos...
Dashed with salt and red pepper.
And other ingredients like curry...
To stimulate the brew.
'Something' said,
'You better spice this with brown sugar.'
So this I did do.
Then I next heated a frying pan.
From slow to medium.
But not hot!
With vegetable oil, butter and a bit of soy.
And all of it simmered in an aromatic splender.
And I ate it.
EVERY drop.
It was great!
And,
I must admit this...
I did lick the plate.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Carrot Top is a nickname that people call me and I thought that it was more marketable.
quote by Carrot Top
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Chicken And Vegetables
it was time to sit down to pleasure eat
the vegetables looked so juicy so good
cut beautifully presented all appealed
to the eye this part of meal all must eat
but oil juice soiled had a taste could not eat
two pieces of chicken drumsticks next appealed
fresh looked crisp brown cooked to perfection
upon first every bite oh how supreme tasty sweet
what was the hand that soiled the vegetable oil?
what was the hand that blessed the tender meat?
when clapping these hands never never meet
taste offering as heart’s condition bitter or sweet
poem by Terence George Craddock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
That First Taste Of Wildness
oh, that first taste of wildness,
danger electric, intoxicating,
walking on the edge,
flapping your arms
...as if you could fly!
the first kiss, the first warm bodied
lover naked in your arms,
the first taste of flesh....
the first whisper of secrets exchanged,
the first tear of parting.
the first battle fought, the first time
knocked down, struggling to your feet,
the first taste of blood,
the first questions why,
the first resolve to endure!
the first bareback ride,
the first motorcycle too fast,
the first spinning out of control....
the first laugh to hide your fear,
the first brush with mortality!
oh, that first taste of wildness,
that never leaves your mouth!
(inspired by a poem written by Shadow Girl)
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
I got a job immediately after leaving high school; I was lucky - three dollars a week and all I could eat, working on a vegetable truck.
quote by Ernest Borgnine
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
I often go on a liquid fast a couple of days a week. I never take just water. Instead, I'll have maybe six glasses of vegetable and fruit juices a day.
quote by Paul Lynde
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Vegetable Man
In yellow shoes I get the blues
Though I walk the streets with my plastic feet
With my blue velvet trousers, make me feel pink
Theres a kind of stink about blue velvet trousers
In my paisley shirt I look a jerk
And my turquoise waistcoat is quite out of sight
But oh oh my haircut looks so bad
Vegetable man how are you?
So Ive changed my dear, and I find my knees,
And I covered them up with the latest cut,
And my pants and socks all point in a box,
They dont make long of my nylon socks,
The watch, black watch
My watch with a black face
And a big pin, a little hole,
And all the lot is what I got,
Its what I wear, its what you see,
It must be me, its what I am,
Vegetable man.
Ive been looking all over the place for a place for me,
But it aint anywhere, it just aint anywhere.
Vegetable man, vegetable man,
Hes the kind of person, you just gonna see him if you can,
Vegetable man.
song performed by by Pink Floyd
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Well, you have your regular classes, like three hours every other day, three times a week. You get twice a week to have an ice practice. Once a week you have weight lifting. It was great.
quote by Peter Forsberg
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
On the weekends, I would go down and play these clubs in Key West or West Palm Beach or surrounding areas of Florida and then I'd go back to school for the week.
quote by Carrot Top
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Everyday Life And Chocolate
Everyday life and Chocolate.
A sweet shop in the middle of nowhere, I had bought a box of chocolate,
but had no money, the owner took my sack of hay given to me by a farmer
to make a mattress, as payment. Now I sleep on top of a big kitchen table
for fear of rats. When I get up at night to drink water, I can hear them
hissing under the floor board. The candy man’s daughter is dying, she has
always been in love with her image and can’t bear the thought of parting.
from her mirror. Last night I fell off the kitchen table, dreamed I was back
at sea and my ship was pitching and rolling, bet it gave the rats a fright.
The phone rang it was my mother, couldn’t hear what she said, bad line
between heaven and earth. Went to the candy man’s daughter’s funeral
the casket was decorated with colourful sweets and expensive chocolate,
the sermon was light hearted the priest looked as he was on a high. I don’t
eat chocolate anymore, but live on raw carrots. So slim you are fat people
tell me; my diet is carrots I say and the rush to the green grocer to buy some,
but they continue to eat sweets. Things are looking up the farmer gave me
another sack of hay and a rat catching terrier, and every morning it puts
the night’s catch on the kitchen table.
poem by Oskar Hansen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Saturday Evening
Safely through another week,
God has brought us on our way;
Let us now a blessing seek,
On th' approaching Sabbath-day:
Day of all the week the best,
Emblem of eternal rest.
Mercies multiply'd each hour
Through the week our praise demand
Guarded by Almighty pow'r,
Fed and guided by his hand:
Though ungrateful we have been,
Only made returns of sin.
While we pray for pard'ning grace,
Through the dear Redeemer's name,
Show thy reconciled face,
Shine away our sin and shame:
From our worldly care set free,
May we rest this night with thee.
When the morn shall bid us rise,
May we feel thy presence near!
May thy glory meet our eyes
When we in thy house appear!
There afford us, Lord, a taste
Of our everlasting feast.
May thy Gospel's joyful sound
Conquer sinners, comfort saints;
Make the fruits of grace abound,
Bring relief for all complaints:
Thus may all our Sabbaths prove,
Till we join the church above!
poem by John Newton
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
My Black Eye Pea Stew
Did I mention,
My black eye pea stew to you?
Well...
This is what you do.
Boil your water,
Add sliced smoked turkey butt.
With seasons you prefer.
I like to mix in olive oil with butter first.
Before adding apple vinegar...
With Old Bay and a bit of salt,
Then soy sauce...
To allow my taste buds to burst.
Add your black eye peas.
Speckled butter lima beans.
Kidney and black beans too!
I also enjoy cooking with onions...
Green peppers, carrots and celery.
For a flavored taste,
You simply can not refuse!
Well...
You can 'try' making attempts.
But licking your lips,
Is not too convincing of a defense.
'May I get some more? '
You sure can!
After I get to taste it myself!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
X Diary 07 Happy Sam And The Magic Horse
A Children's Tale
Once upon a time
There was a little boy called Happy Sam
Happy Sam lived in a house by a forest
With his mother and his father
And his baby brother
Lucky Peter
One day Happy Sam was walking in the forest
Further from home than he had been before
And he saw –
A HORSE
In the horse’s mouth there was –
A KEY
Happy Sam wanted that key
'HORSE'
Said Happy Sam
'GIVE ME THE KEY'
'Neigh'
Said the horse
Without letting go of the key
Well Happy Sam wanted that key really badly
So he thought
And he thought
And he had -
AN IDEA
Then he ran through the forest
And he ran through the garden
And he ran through the kitchen
And he ran to the refrigerator
And he found -
A CARROT
Then he ran back to the horse
And he said
'HERE HORSE
HAVE A CARROT! '
Well the horse wanted that carrot
So he opened his mouth to get it
And -
HE DROPPED THE KEY
Happy Sam caught the key
And he ran through the forest
And he ran through the garden
And he ran to his family
And he noticed for the first time
That in their hearts there were -
KEYHOLES
And he tried his new key
And he found that it -
JUST FITTED
poem by Stewart McKenzie
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!