Tuesday, July 3, 2012

Not Only Tomatoes

  I came across some poems I wrote a few years ago.  I've retitled this one from "Artificial Flowers," to "Loss" which seems more appropriate.  I rearranged words and lines but it's essentially the same -- this is not a new problem I have been dealing with.


 Loss

Artificial flowers are tacky.
Real flowers are available
In the nearby grocery store.
They are not expensive…but
Their vague scent disappoints the nose.
They will soon droop from jet lag
For they have flown from Peru or Chile
Mexico, Florida or Israel, refrigerated.
They have been bred to near artificiality
Like the tomatoes and strawberries—
So pretty, so tasteless, so disappointing
To the tongue’s eager taste buds,
Filling the mouth with the texture
And blandness of cardboard.

I no longer buy so-called fresh flowers
And rarely am tempted by visual
Perfection: the round, red beauty
Of flavorless apples, or the hard as rocks,
So tempting, juiceless, unripe peaches.
I have stopped picking wild flowers.
They are living things,
As yet untainted by commerce.
They deserve to die a natural death
In the fields of their birth.


I crave old fashioned fruits and flowers.
I miss them and, yes, I know
My artificial roses and cyclemen
 Are truly tacky—
At least they are not molded plastic.
They are real silk.
Well…maybe they are…
Polyester?

3 comments:

FOLKWAYS NOTEBOOK said...

June -- don't smell the flowers. They are grown with the use of heavy toxic chemicals in their foreign greenhouses! Go to farmers markets -- they usually have nice fresh flowers for sale. Your post illustrates the stress that our natural fruits, vegetables and flowers are under. -- barbara

June Calender said...

I know there are good,large scale farmer's markets some places. When I lived in NYC Union Square was wonderful on weekends. But here the two nearest are very disappointing: limited produce,a few flowers and then artisan stuff like jams and soaps. It's hard to be early enough for the small quantities of fresh corn or, when they finally arrive,tomatoes (the latter usually the pretty tasteless kind)

Bev Sykes said...

You've said what I've thought for years. So very sad. My grandchildren will not know what a flowers smells like or taste a REAL tomato.