The 2nd in a series of poems about vegetable growing in my garden. Enjoy!



I’m growing potatoes it’s ever so sweet

They grow underground and taste good to eat

They take up much space as the plant it abounds

You pile up dirt over the tubers in mounds

The plants grow wild, a darkish green color

Purple and white comes the small gentle flower

I am forced to choose between beauty and function

Do I remove the flowers at this early junction?

Doing so now would hurt the aesthetic

But might make the harvest less pathetic

If I am lucky the plants last a while

And potatoes abound throughout the pile

The plants that die early, I now eat their fruit

White, red and purple potatoes as loot

And while I assert these spuds hold great appeal

I quickly tire out potatoes at every meal

So to the potato in all incarnations

And to the people of all different nations

Who eat the potato, fried, baked or boiled

And to the farmer who has worked hard and toiled

To bring us our sustenance, carbohydrates and all

To hold us through winter, spring, summer and fall

With thanks to my soil, the sun and the rain

The cycle will continue and all start again

For the potato itself is a full seed

With everything a new potato might need

To start a new plant and give off new spuds

Which we will enjoy with (veggie) burgers and suds

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