They force fashionable
olive and crimson Summer
(avocado
and guacomole are so passe)
into a plastic bag
of ‘bistro style ‘
designated (apparently)
by slivers
of sanitized beetroot;
coriander dominates,
leaves a nasty aftertaste,
he spits out a stem
with contempt
and curling lip
laments the days
when simple garden salad
plucked ten minutes ago
from improvised cloche
and sun warmed earth
garnished home-cured breaded ham,
and village children hand-picked
the strawberry, raspberry and blackcurrant
punnets arrayed on roadside stands
alongside honeycomb wrapped in waxy paper,
cool,lush bunches
of luminous Alresford watercress,
and an honesty box that no one
ever nicked.
Author notes
greens
A contest entry
- Summer Salad by ea.
900 points, ended September 8, 2008, 9 entries
Silver trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Comments
1 - 9 of 9
-
Salad as metaphor.
Welcome to modern life where everything comes in a bag or a can. I know I don't grow a garden anymore, like I did for so many years...life becomes so fast, so complex, you give into ''freeze dried, ready-to-eat in 5 minutes'' life. We of course lose beauty and a measure of honesty, even decency in the process.
I'll create a commune one of these days, I'll send you an invitation. lol
Quite beautiful.
-
Thank you for this, such a wonderful poem with humour and nostalgia I love your style and metaphors. Sweet days of picking up berries in my granny's orchard somewhere in the north east of France, unfortunately my children living in London are not so lucky even if we sometimes go to pick small plums and blackberries near our local park.
-
So true. So beautifully rendered in more human fashion. When simple was the best and unadorned except by its natural goodness.
Perfect ending. A finality of the times where there ain't much left sacred.
You make me hungry for a simple salad life again sans all the garnish.
There's so much I haven't tasted yet I don't in the least feel deprived.
-
Having begun to grow-my-own a couple of years ago I can empathise with this. The horror of modern food production and the distances that food travels is somewhat depressing. You concluding line really is perfect and conjures up a whole social attitude that is increasingly harder to see evidence of.
-
I see so many other poems inside this one.
To capture the essences of past tastes and
memories makes writing worthwhile and helps
bring a smile when needed.
Thank you,
Maria
-
-
-
Oh my lord - a poet after my own heart bringing in "the honesty box"! I totally love this for its succulence and nostalgia and perhaps huge metaphor for what most generic style salads in the bags have run away with: taste.
-
Alresford in Hampshire, England? I remember eating watercress from there. You are right, the food was a lot plainer then though I do find some of these newfangled comestibles are interesting.
I enjoyed your write. -
-
Yes, Alresford in Hampshire. We grew up near there, and we used to visit the watercress beds.
I like to try the new things too, but the issues surrounding them all seem so complicated sometimes.
Thank you very much for reading and commenting.
-
Adding your comment:
1 - 9 of 9
