Local food poetry

  1. By Pam Jenkins, from Diamond Creek.
  2. By Matsuo Basho, from Japan.
  3. By Gillian Essex, from Eltham.
  4. By Christina Spry, from Montmorency.

By Pam Jenkins, from Diamond Creek

First poem

There’s an amanita phalloides in my veggie patch,
A coprinus comatus in my drive,
One is out to kill me,
The other helps me thrive.

(posted May 24 2017)

Amanita phalloides
the death cap
Coprinus comatus
the shaggy ink cap
Second poem

The Harvest Feast has come around again.
Where gardeners share tales of joy and pain.
And eat the fruits of their collective labours.
And savour all those wonderous flavours.

There’ll be veggies, fruit and lots of eggs.
But nothing that ever got about on legs.

I’ll take along some peaches in bottles.
Glowing like sunshine on flowers of wattles.
This year the feast will be the best by far.
Especially with my gift of sunshine in a jar.

(posted February 24 2016)

Third poem

There was a lady who wouldn’t watch telly
Got a rumbling sound in her belly
So she took off her red hat
And her purple cravat
And turned apples and mint into jelly.

[Editor’s note: my understanding is that Pam really did wear a red hat whilst making her mint jelly.]

(posted January 27 2016)

By Matsuo Basho, from Japan

Coolness of the melons (a Haiku from the 17th Century)

Coolness of the melons
flecked with mud
in the morning dew.

(posted January 11 2017)

By Gillian Essex, from Eltham

Doctor Google

It’s thanks to Dr Google
That I’m feeling no alarm
Though my symptoms are quite strange
They’re doing me no harm

I type and click and let
Doc G quickly diagnose
My complaints – she lets me know
Why I’m on the nose

I thought that eating home grown veg
Would mean a healthy life
But when I ingest artichokes
My belly’s in such strife

It makes me look quite pregnant
My gut is wracked with pain
In order to obtain relief
I fart and fart again

The trouble is when I grow veg
I eat them to excess
And my digestion cannot cope
In ways I now confess

Although it is embarrassing
To talk of wind and pee
Thanks to Doctor Google
I know it’s not just me!

Doc Google says it’s beetroot
That makes my pee turn pink
And also says asparagus
Gives it that awful stink

I’m missing certain enzymes
To help me cope with this
The evidence is damning
It’s right there in my piss

And eating carrots gives my skin
An obvious orange hue
So tell me Dr Google
What am I to do?

It seems the dietary guidelines
For me are topsy-turvy
I need to eat 5 fruits 2 veg
But at least I won’t get scurvy

(posted January 11 2017)

By Christina Spry, from Montmorency

Recipe for cabbage

Take one large cabbage
Cut in half – slice thinly

We battle the melee of people jostling
At Dad’s favourite vegetable stall
he always chooses the biggest
the best cabbage
thick and heavy –
lots of dark green outside leaves

Take one large cabbage
Cut in half – slice thinly
Bring the water to the boil

At home Dad cuts the cabbage in half
separating the leaves to wash vigorously
shaking in a clean bowl of water
sometimes he’ll find a green
caterpillar nestling among the leaves
I throw it in the bin

Take one large cabbage
Cut in half – slice thinly
Place slice cabbage in water

Dad hands me the big knife
I put the leaves on the wooden board
and cut each one into thin slices
fill the saucepan with cold water
add some salt and bring to the boil
pop the leaves into the boiling water

Take one large cabbage
Cut in half – slice thinly
Add salt boil for twenty minutes

I arrive home from school
and let myself in the front door
the smell is overpowering
this means boiled cabbage for tea
(or maybe it’s Brussels sprouts?)
wonder what delights we’ll have with it?

Take one large cabbage
Cut in half – slice thinly
Eat with potatoes meat and thick gravy

(posted June 13 2018)

  2 Responses to “Local food poetry”

  1. Thanks for the joy of poetry.

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