Are you blushing or is that just rage?

Gearhead picking wild leeks

Gearhead picking wild leeks

Wife: “I took a picture of you picking wild leeks for my blog”

Gearhead: “What blog? You haven’t written one in months.”

It’s true. How can I explain it? Is it because comedy is born of anger? That I had some incredibly funny things to write? That I know, with keen instinct, that laced up blog posts are not the balm for marital discord [wife edits: more blam really]? [Gearhead edits: It’s because you’re too busy! You’ve taken too much on! Yourimg_5014 poetry course for Christ’s sake!].

Yes, the poetry course. I underestimated the mind time necessary to produce an idea with as few words as possible. And with the few words chosen, one must create a picture of beauty, a painting within the mind’s eye. It required all the extra attention I had. And then some. But I discovered I LOVE it.

Here’s an example of one that, by posting here I forfeit the privilege to publish elsewhere. But as a good friend pointed out, with the tact and skill of the Jedi mind trick, “you wouldn’t want this poem to be part of your professional repertoire.” So, in lieu of a recipe I give you a foodie still life in poetic form:

Your Fruit Salad Makes Me Blush

Rolled lemons

beneath the heel

of the hand

press juice

from flesh


Dangled pear




slicks fingers


Slivers of peach


shiver the

length of my



Grape skin

peeled back


slips off



A capful or two

of rum

shoots heat

to the back

of the throat



the cherry


the stain



Your banana

laid to rest


a spill of pomegranate seeds


If this poem was successful you should all have an erection … or at least aimg_4978 tumescent hint of one [wife edits: women have erectile tissue too ladies! And just as an aside, did you know that the vagina is not so much tube shaped, but really more like a folded up umbrella? They never show you that in the medical drawings.]

[Gearhead edits: Good God. Stop!]

wife: “what do you think of my poem?”

Gearhead: “it makes me want to eat fruit salad.”

[wife edits, wailing: I’ve failed!!!]

It’s spring. A new beginning. Here’s another poem to end this post off:

I pray that my creativity multiplies

As the jaguars, put to winter in the barn

Give birth to greater numbers

By spring

[Gearhead edits: smartass.]




This entry was published on April 11, 2016 at 6:36 am. It’s filed under Uncategorized and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink. Follow any comments here with the RSS feed for this post.

9 thoughts on “Are you blushing or is that just rage?

  1. That was the best fruit salad I have had in a very long time!! Loved the second poem as well. Thank you for sharing, you are so dry creative.


  2. birocrats on said:

    knock down that inukshuk…. it can hurt stupid tourists…. in my poem the grapes were green so it didnt get past broca’s area


  3. Eve Hope on said:

    Love them both Suzanne, I am always very impressed with your writing ability .Poetry wow!. A delicious fruit salad thank you so much for sharing.
    Your second poem really made me smile. X


  4. I feel your destiny is no longer a cookbook, but a poetry cookbook………waiting patiently!


  5. Anita Lanning on said:

    your poetic spring stirrings are strangely reassuring…try saying that outloud 3 times without biting your tongue. 🙂


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