Change is a tomato
Change is a hot-house tomato,
hydroponic, vine-ripened,
farmers market, backyard,
supermarket, Walmart
tomato: red, green, juicy, dry.
Change is sliced with salt,
jarred with fresh basil, paired
with cilantro, chilies, onions.
Change is a hybrid; a heirloom
staked, bushed, surrounded
by Walls O’ Water or carpeted
with red plastic and humus.
Change is sun-dried, wrapped
in cellophane pomodoro,
pasted in convenient tubes,
hangs from a basket, self-
seeds in compost, splits in late rain.
Change is cherry, zebra, brown Betty,
beefsteak, Juliette, sungold, early
girl, mortgage lifter. Change is fruit.
Change is a love-apple kin to poison.
Change is a homegrown tomato.
Manjith Kainickara's Tomatoes
* * *
Christine suggested we write about change this week. I was all over that since I have some changes to deal with, too. For other poems about change go here.
Stoney Moss has a lot of (well, 7 or 8) posts about tomatoes, but this might be the first original poem specifically written to them, although you can read Whirling Dervish’s poetry-meme post which includes a favorite poem of hers, Pablo Neruda’s “Ode to a Tomato.” (Good thing I didn’t read it again before I went to the trouble of posting this little poem or I wouldn’t have.)
Ironically, I talked to WD Wednesday, after I had written this poem. Before I remembered she had posted Neruda’s. I did ask beg her to come back to SM & post whatever and whenever she could. I miss my blog-mate! (She said she would. She did.)
Related posts:
I couldn’t resist coming over here to read your poem after seeing the title on readwritepoem. I’m not quite sure that I follow how “change is a tomato” but I love your descriptions.
excellent poem, makes me want to experiment in the kitchen
Very imaginative, Deb! I love:
Change is a love-apple kin to poison.
I just realized that I like you, Deb. Mine are heirloom Cherokee, Arkansas Traveler, and Pineapple, as well as hybrid Bloody Butcher, Fourth of July, Kick, and Better Boy. My wife thinks I am nuts because every morning I sit among the plants talk to them and gently touch their leaves. But, you should see how they respond. I love tomatoes and I loved your poem. Thanks for the change.
Liked the analogies. My mom is gonna love this!
it hurt like dead man’s calling
Those tomato names truly are the stuff of poetry. I love the way you get to the prime language here. There are no extraneous words — great job.
So many changes documented here! Location, heredity, flavor, name. What a delight to read this one!
Hi Catherine, thanks for reading. It’s hard to define what I was trying to say because for me change as a word/concept is a non sequitur. As soon as it is said it changes. And so the variety of ways a simple tomato can be viewed through time, society, evolution, blah, blah, blah is a metaphor.
Thanks CGP: my own are several months out. You & I have a similar growing climate I think. Not quite enough sun early in the spring. My tomatoes won’t be ready until August.
Jo: Glad you liked that line. I wasn’t sure if it went too far.
Ah, Donald. You just realized that? You have some fabulous tomatoes, you do! Some I recognize as available here, but not many. You get to start eating yours in June? Ah, the South.
Gautami: Thanks for reading. I’m glad your mom would like this. :-)
Nathan: Oh, thanks for that. I was inspired, subconsciously by reading Mark Doty’s blog yesterday and he had listed stain names and another series, too. Funny how these things all work together.
Tamra: Thanks for reading. Glad you got the changes I was going for …
Deb, delicious poem.
“Change is sliced with salt,
jarred with fresh basil, paired
with cilantro, chilies, onions.”
Love, love, love.
Oh, Michelle. Thank you!
I agree with Michelle–this is so delicious and sensual.
I like this. I never thought of comparing change to a tomato, but when I read the poem, it made sense.
I’m with Jo. My favourite line is: Change is a love-apple kin to poison.
Good job.
-Nicole
even the non-tomato lover in me found this a refreshing bite. some of the simplest notions of change happen right before us, such as our backyards and communities. the picture plays well with your words.
You end with the homegrown tomato, the very best for last. Wonderful rolling off the tongue poem, Deb.
Thanks, Christine. :-) That was my thought/hope, too (ending w/ perfect).
change….my newly planted tomato plants are …changing very slowly…but nice change