Thursday, September 26, 2013

Tomatoes on the vine . . .

Yesterday I brought in these
unripened tomatoes
to save them from frost

but seeing them today
jolted me back to a poem
I wrote and published
(in a small journal)
over thirty years ago

I'm still looking for a copy of the poem
but here are the lines
I can remember so far:

clothes on the line
tomatoes on the vine
summer came and summer went
and no one fed the swine . . .

I didn't say it was a good poem.



  1. Lucky tomatoes; not so for the swine.

    Green tomatoes, they are so worth saving.

    Can the same be said for imperfect writing? (I am not implying that your poem is anything but perfection. :))

    I love to write and then share what I've written but doing so is downright terrifying. Yet—for some insane reason—I continue to do it; this despite the fact that I can't exhale for the remainder of the day.

  2. I think it is a fun & melodic poem that made me smile...Interesting how that one tomato is red, with it's brothers (sisters?) all green...

  3. i love this idea of words coming back, almost as if they're an old friend saying hello.

  4. We have had cold nights but no real frost yet. Did you ever make fried green tomatoes?

  5. I will, "It was a good poem." I say that because I was grinning from ear to ear. I am sure that's listed in the definitions of 'good'.

  6. Mom always put the green ones on sunny window sills. It never works for me though. What's up with that?

  7. I would love to read the rest of that poem!