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Tomato, the Busy Vegetable
They’re still arguing about me. Am I fruit or vegetable? don’t mix me up. I don’t have time for this nonsense, I’m being consumed. Call me whatever, the customer must be satisfied. I’m red, call me red, ripe with juicy freshness. Call me juicy, ready to be sliced into a nice bed of Romaine. Or give me to Aunt Rose, she’ll turn me into a nice spicy sauce Good enough to make love to that sexy linguine or eggplant, the meat no longer attracts me. I’m no longer comfortable with meat, people. Finally, I’m out of the closet but, don’t call me gay. I just don’t like meat anymore, period. Until you decide what I am, let me stew until you do. You can also sun me as a tasty morsel with a shriveled red tan. Just don’t put me in that brine. I refuse to be pickled.
Richard Savadsky |
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Performance Poets Association® |
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Celery What did you expect? A round vegetable like iceberg lettuce? That’s not me. I’m a lean, mean crisp machine. Not bloated with water like iceberg. You know when you’re eating me. When you chomp on me, I’m never quiet. I’m the backbone stalk of the vegetable world and don’t you forget it. I give crunch to your tuna fish salad. You’ll always bite me in moist stuffings. You can always chomp on me in the raw. I’m the perfect shape to scoop your favorite dip. Wherever I am, you can’t miss me. The ends of my stalks are sort of flowery. If you stupidly forgot to buy your girlfriend flowers. Use me as a last resort, give me to her, tell her I’m the flowery gift of mankind. Then she can eat it, look at it, cook it or stuff it. Or, she can throw it at you and end your relationship. Flowers don’t give you these choices.
Richard Savadsky Formalist poet, painter, retired aerospace engineer |
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Rolling My Wheelchair Forward
I just keep rolling my wheelchair forward
Hoping for the ms cure Just get offered band-aids but no cure Can inject myself every other day to reduce the chance of flare-ups Sounds like a poor trade-off for injections
I just keep rolling my wheelchair forward
Thinking of jogging 10 years ago I completed a 10k jog Playing tennis at a tennis court Relaxing and drinking Heineken beer
I just keep rolling my wheelchair forward
I once had a cane then a walker Could walk up and down stairs holding the banister Now I use curb cuts to wheel across the street alone But I can go anywhere on Island buses for wheelchairs
I just keep rolling my wheelchair forward
Winston limo picked me and wheelchair up, took us to LaGuardia Delta flew me to Tampa, used their wheelchair for narrow aisles Those lovely flight attendants and me had a great time Too bad I couldn’t get only one to keep
I just keep rolling my wheelchair forward
Richard Savadsky |
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(Imagine you’re a higher order math function trying to reach your mathematical limit, the asymptote)
THE ASYMPTOTE
The asymptote is in sight, the distance is known When I get there the prize will be mine to own
On the first day of travel, I cut the distance in half It won’t be long until I toast success with a carafe
The second day revelas my attempt is short The distance I’ve covered is half what the first day brought
With the third day, the pattern appears set Despite my best effort, the third day’s result is half the seconds day’s yet
It’s clear to me now, I can’t change the laws of math no way It’s the asymptote, I can’t reach it ins pite of my say
But my math DNA still presses me on to seek my precious to discover If never the asymptote to touch in this world, I’ll be the rejected lover
The asymptote, they tell me even if I’m in the vicinity My love will consummate only when I can touch infinity
Richard Savadsky |