2011 November PAD Chapbook Challenge: Day 22

Good morning, everyone! I have a favor to ask of you beginning with tomorrow morning’s prompt. Could you help spread the word that the prompt is up each morning from November 23 to November 27? I know many of you already do an excellent job of this, but I won’t be able to link to them myself starting tomorrow, because I’ll be spending my first Thanksgiving in years with the Brewer side of my family up in Ohio. Many of them have never met Will or Hannah; some have never even met Tammy–so it’s going to be a great Thanksgiving.

As a result, I’ll also be furiously writing poems today and pre-loading them into the system (so each day through November 27, I’ll be talking to you from the distant past, otherwise known as November 22). Thanks in advance for helping spread the word!


Today is a Tuesday (but not the last one of November), which means there are two prompt. They are:

  1. Pick a fruit, make it the title of your poem, and write the poem. Example titles include: “Banana,” “Kiwi,” “Lemon,” etc.
  2. Pick a vegetable, make it the title of your poem, and write the poem. Example titles include “Pickle,” “Potato,” “Asparagus,” etc.

Here’s my attempt:


Everyone loves a veggie,
but you are just another fruit
sneaking into salad parties.
Everyone loves a veggie,
you know, like carrots, broccoli,
or stringbeans. Though it may sound cute,
everyone loves a veggie,
but you are just a fruit.


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And check out my personal blog: My Name Is Not Bob


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461 thoughts on “2011 November PAD Chapbook Challenge: Day 22

  1. Juanita Lewison-Snyder

    Chocolate: the Other Veg
    by Juanita Lewison-Snyder

    Chocolate comes from cacao beans
    which are of course are both meat
    and veg mid-rung on the foodie pyramid.
    Sugar is from canes and beets
    corn, fruit mash, and stevia (™)
    which last I checked, were all
    still plant-based vegetables.

    Bring me your tired raisins, cherries,
    your orange slices and strawberries,
    your peanuts and pecans, cashews
    almonds and walnuts, macadamias
    cover them with sweet milky chocolateyness
    and meet head-on your daily requirement
    of fruit, veg, and dairy greatness.

    Chocolate contains health benefits of
    dark vegetables such as antioxidants
    endorphins, serotonin, theobromine,
    caffeine and other stimulants but
    let’s not let that not factor in
    too deeply, my young friend.

    Hershey,(™) Nestle,(™) Tobler,(™) Lindt (™)
    Cadbury(™), Snickers,(™) Godiva,(™) Mars (™)
    Ferrero,(™) Kraft,(™) Ghiradelli,(™) Sees (™)
    you make eating our veggies
    white, dark, milk, nut, less hostile!
    Sprouts should be so lucky!

    © 2011 by Juanita Lewison-Snyder

  2. Marian O'Brien Paul


    one of six siblings –
    three boys, three girls
    my German mother
    told this potato tale.

    An older brother chose
    a sister for pantry detail
    snagging six fat potatoes
    from their storage sack.

    A younger brother given
    a glove and told to gather
    hot coals from the hearth
    and the others to get cans.

    Their rendezvous: behind
    the garage near the lilacs,
    ringleader holding tongs
    dropping coals in tin cans.

    Sisters roasting the spuds
    one to a can, brown skins
    turning to ash, the insides
    growing soft when poked.

    The savory smell rivaled
    the taste on their tongues
    until their mother caught
    a redolent whiff of smoke.

    “We called them ‘Mickies’
    for the Irish,” my mom said.
    “In Ireland, the poor folk
    had only potatoes to eat.

    “But then came the blight
    and famine. Irishmen fled
    to America and their taste
    for spuds came with them.”

    My mom wed an Irishman
    when she grew up, so I’m
    an O’Brien but none of us
    roast potatoes in tin cans.

  3. NomiWrites


    I still don’t know
    Whether it’s okay
    To eat grapes
    The fate pf some migrant worker hanging
    On the ingestion of one small green orb
    Each taste laden with guilt and confusion

    I wonder about
    Spinach and Cantaloupes too
    But that’s personal

    I wonder if early Romans
    Bowing to an earlier Caesar
    Stretched languorously on stone couches
    While hennaed nails peeled back
    Taut green skin from each moist oval
    Worried too

    If my eating habits could change the world
    Would I forego chocolate and coffee to save a child?
    Would I eat grasshoppers and worms for world peace?
    Some have no choice
    And still children suffer
    And wars go on
    And yet I wonder – – –
    Would I?

  4. richard-merlin atwater

    Cantaloupe (alias the Musk Melon) or Honeydew
    Rich Atwater Nov22, 2011

    You may think of netted skin or smooth to separate the two,
    Rich orange inner fruit, or light pale green to savor true.
    But when I ponder on these favored fruit what comes to mind:
    You “can’t elope” with musk perfume, so just say: “Honey do”, let’s bind.

    Rich Atwater NOv 22, 2011

    The health food nut will add it to their salad plate,
    For Vitamin K and C and antioxidant control of weight.
    But as for me I feel the swaying dance of tender blooms,
    As Waltz of the Flowers is played, I Call-e-Flower to dance ballrooms.

  5. Lovely Annie


    Round and hard,
    the dull dirty red
    the crimson
    treasure buried deep within.
    The fruit falls open
    red rubies
    swollen with sweet juice
    begging me
    to indulge
    Whispering secrets
    of the mysteries hidden
    in the fiery red realm of Hades,
    a lonely, frightened Persephone,
    I am seduced.

  6. Karen Jane

    The archetypal apple wishes it could be
    A tasty provider of nutrition
    As it rightly ought to be
    But carnal temptation, objects of affection
    And falling not far from the tree
    Is the reputation the apple was given
    Before it was even a seed
    So misunderstood it sits on the shelves
    Scanning our eyes for beliefs
    Longing to be just picked up and eaten
    Without considering Adam and Eve

  7. Judy Roney

    Coordinated Fruit

    I have oranges in the fruit bowl
    October and November,
    shiny red delicious apples
    all December long.

    I know it’s a little strange,
    won’t make sense to those
    who like their seasonal fruit.

    But the oranges match my fall décor
    and apples, well you get the gist.
    Coordinated down to my fruit bowl,
    my way to say I’m with it.

  8. Bruce Niedt

    A late entry that was inspired by the prompt, but didn’t quite follow it – also a nod to the “triolet craze” that seems prevalent around here lately:

    A Day without Sunshine

    I need my morning orange juice,
    it’s like your coffee is to you.
    I will accept no lame excuse;
    I need my morning orange juice.
    Without it, sure as my name’s Bruce,
    I’ll be a grump the whole day through.
    I need my morning orange juice,
    it’s like your coffee is to you.

  9. SaraV


    Tried to deceive
    Me, by being
    A greenish fruit
    In a hairy suit


    A Kernel of Truth

    Broccoli, corn
    String beans, and black
    Peas, brussel sprouts
    Lettuce in a sack
    Carrots, cauliflower
    I’ll eat by the score
    But please don’t make
    Me eat hominy anymore

  10. Tracy Davidson


    little ball
    of goodness
    lying quietly
    in my fruit salad
    and outnumbered
    by your lesser,
    more ordinary,

    How I love
    to savour you
    on my tongue
    as long as possible,
    make the most
    of your succulence,
    until your sweet
    and tender body
    slips down my throat.

    If only
    there were more
    than two of you
    in every can.

  11. zevd2001


    Some things don’t keep well
    in the open air. Little critters land on ripe red tomatoes
    because they are tired and hungry, and
    they decide to set up housekeeping. Once

    I knew a bug that discovered a Romaine lettuce that just
    lay there in the vegetable bin in my uncles supermarket. It
    stepped inside, my mother picked it up, and
    took it home. Then, like she
    always does, stripped the thing into leaves,

    washed them in the sink, removed the dust, She
    placed them over a paper towel, but,
    this bug must have liked being there . . .
    Count on Mom, she saw the thing, and .
    threw it in the dust bin. I guess, if you
    are a bug, the best you can ask for
    is the leftovers in the dustbin. Anyway, it’s like that

    with all the vegetables in our house. Everything
    has to be fresh, and clean. Then there are the jars
    in the pantry. Mom cooks ’em. After that

    she puts them Mason Jars so they are ready to eat
    come winter, Mom says, fresh out of the pantry.

    There are these albums in the library, butterflies that
    Grampa collected. You should see Mom smile. When
    they went around with their nets, catching the things,
    puttin’ ’em in a jar ’til they got home, pullin’ ’em out
    and takin’ a cloth on ’em with formaldehyde
    to make sure they weren’t still alive. After that
    placin’ ’em onto the pages. She had a story about
    every last one. I said in biology before

    they are butterflies, they are bugs.
    They eat vegetables, too, just like us, why do
    you leave the scraps for them.
    Don’t they deserve better, I said. Mom said

    out in the field, they can eat anything
    they want, but people eat food.

    Zev Davis

  12. zevd2001

    Of all groves in my orchard, these
    are child proof. Who wants something sour
    something bitter inside
    the mouth, sharp, medicinal. Racing to the sink to diluting

    the unpleasantness, This yellow fruit among
    the green leaves fill s oft grass with shade. All by itself
    no need to add sweetness . A blanket and
    a cup of tea are sufficient for aquiet afternoon.,
    The leaves flutter, offering a respite
    from the midday sun. Just out of curiousity

    I pluck the fruit. Maybe
    there is more to this moment than meets the eye,
    what I see, what I feel, fools my senses, yes,,
    There is a reason God created knives, to cut through
    the things we have yet
    to discover, like lemons. I know

    they are bitter. I know they are sour. I also know
    when some confection becomes saccharine
    it causes my palate displeasure, a lemon drops
    ever so slightly, and my taste buds thank me
    for the tartness it sends to them. For a lark

    I cut through the thin skin, letting my tongue
    see for itself what it grows. Above me
    after all, reaching down, so close, waiting
    for my lips to tell me, stay and savor

    slowly, I understand, to take
    the bitter edge out of the little pockets
    drawing sweetness that was always there.

    Zev Davis

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  13. Michele Brenton

    Fruits of labor.

    Oranges are lovely except you have to peel them.
    Peaches are tasty but I much prefer to feel them.
    Pomegranates – good for you & yet a lot of work.
    Bananas – vitamins & minerals wrapped up in a smirk.
    Grapefruit shoot you in the eye.
    Cherries make delicious pie.
    Lemons can be worth a try.
    But if you like a grapple
    you’ll have most fun with pineapple.

  14. MiskMask


    She listened
    every Sunday and studied well the lessons
    The Garden of Eden
    The Tree of Knowledge
    Tempting apples
    Adam and Eve, and that nasty snake.
    And so for the apple’s sake
    She took one with her to church
    and set it in the confessional.
    It needed some major forgiveness
    she thought.

  15. iainspapa

    The Root Vegetable Anthem

    Root! Root! Root for root vegetables!
    A wealth of stealthy health beneath the lawn.
    There’s a feast of tasty treats
    Waiting deep beneath your feets
    So hurry! Dig them up before they’re gone!
    Comestibles like vegetables are good for you.
    Except for carrots, mostly they’re benign.
    Turn your tastebuds south,
    Sneak a leek into your mouth
    And presto! ‘Less you vomit, you’ll be fine!
    Root! Root! Root for root vegetables!
    A pirate’s buried treasure in the yarrd:
    Thar be rows and rows of rootsies–
    Food doubloons–below your tootsies!
    Davy Jones’s Larder’s y’arr rewarrd!
    Supra-soilers spoil in the summer sun
    While roots grow plump and lumpy in the loam.
    You’ll love your luncheon-munchin’
    When you’re crunchin’ on an onchion!
    (Be wary of the truncheon-wielding gnome.)
    Root! Root! Root for root vegetables!
    Terrestri-veggies simply can’t compare.
    Cold and mulchy’s much more fun
    Than lying frying in the sun.
    Chow downward! Dig your dinner…if you dare!
    Root! Root! Root for root vegetables!
    Root! Root! Root for root vegetables!
    Root! Root! Root for root vegetables!


  16. Karen H. Phillips

    Day 22 11-22-2011

    Write a fruit-titled poem or write a veggie-titled poem.


    Teardrop rubies weep wine
    when the knife pierces the rind.
    Blood-drops spurt and stain
    as the eater rends fruit without pain.
    At once tart and sweet
    seeds give life to all who eat.

    Brussel Sprouts

    Rachael Ray implied veggie cast-off,
    as often cabbage is,
    condemned to death by boiling.
    If only cowering children could see the green orbs
    decriminalized and simmering
    sizzling in a pool of onions, EVO, and other delights–
    like me, they’d be mourning the lack of smellevision
    and, for that matter, tastevision.

  17. Sara McNulty

    How About a Date?

    Dates are yummy, achingly sweet,
    especially rolled in coconut.
    Date nut bread is a dark dense treat.
    Dates are yummy, achingly sweet.
    A thin coating protects the meat.
    Now I don’t want this poem to get in a rut, but
    dates are yummy, achingly sweet,
    especially rolled in coconut.

  18. Mary Mansfield

    Raspberry-Flavored Wisdom

    Granny’s overgrown raspberry bush lie
    Next to the faded green garage.
    The sprawling canes seemed
    A writhing mass of snakes,
    Poised to bite any who ventured near.
    I would be sent into its midst,
    Deliberately picking my way through the tangled branches
    In search of its gleaming black gems.

    “Sometimes,” Granny would tell me,
    “To find the sweetest fruit,
    You have to be willing to brave the thorns.”

  19. a.paige


    Smushed between two whole
    wheat, or grains, slices of bread,
    dash of salt and lemon drizzle—
    puts the healthy in your lunch.

    Tomato, Potato

    Tomato, Toma-to
    Potato, Pota-to
    Isn’t it a shame
    that they argue about your name?
    Doesn’t matter what they call you
    Love you both just the same.


    Funny how you think me good—
    my golden teeth, sweet and juicy…
    How would you feel if I boiled and grilled
    you and pulled out all your teeth?

  20. pomodoro

    Potato, My Sweet

    Downright Felliniesque,
    your subtlly varied flesh
    reminds me of Maddalena,
    whose dark sunglasses
    concealed a bruised eye.

    Such understated beauty,
    you’re heaven on a fork.
    Like a yam, you may be thinking?
    Mai, not in this dolce vita.
    E cosi ~ another culinary myth, Swiss-cheesed up.

  21. RJ Clarken

    The Jabotacaba

    “You’ve got to go out on a limb sometimes because that’s where the fruit is.” ~Will Rodgers

    “This donut has purple in the middle; purple is a fruit.” ~Dan Castellaneta

    It’s kind of like guava
    Taste one. You’ll say, “Brava!”
    You can eat it or make juice.
    I found this on ‘Livestrong’
    where healthy’s a theme song.
    It’s purplish-black, it’s produce
    and it comes from Brazil
    which might give you a thrill.
    Jabotacaba? My muse.


    Note: This one’s a Balassi Stanza poem. The weirdness continues…

  22. seingraham

    Damson Plums

    See there the ugliest tree
    Bent, twisted and gnarled
    Looking more dead than alive
    Especially come winter
    Leafless and bare
    It appears ready for firewood
    Until the snow kindly covers it

    But in Spring,
    Another of nature’s
    Bountiful charities
    When the crazy tree blooms
    Bridal white tiny blossoms
    And you just know
    That everywhere a blossom
    Grows – there will be fruit

    Oh, and such fruit
    Equal parts sweet and tart
    With skin coloured deep indigo
    And flesh, yellowish-green
    Damson plums for sure
    Neighbourhod experts
    Assured us

    The tree?
    Atypical for
    this fruit
    Our yard’s personal
    Oddity I believe
    But it became beloved
    To us
    And it still bears that
    Wonderful fruit


    Spaghetti Squash

    Of all the gourds
    This is the one
    I discovered most recently
    That makes me laugh
    And tickles my taste-buds

    Why “spaghetti” squash?
    I wondered, until
    The first time I baked one
    Then following the instructions
    I halved it, scooped it
    Then pulled a fork
    Through its flesh

    And sure enough
    Voila! Long strings
    Of tender yellow squash
    Pulled loose to pile
    On a plate

    A pat of butter
    Some salt and pepper
    And mmm-mmm
    Scrumptious –

  23. a.paige


    Peeled banana, blended ice,
    soymilk and
    coffee, or
    espresso, makes
    one of the best monkey flavored
    mocha shake
    healthier than those men’s
    Curious George.

    Bananarama 2.

    Apple of my eye
    Your strawberry smile
    My sweet nectarine
    Your orange appeal
    brightens my sour lemon-ings.

    Apple of my eye
    Your blueberry eyes
    My sweet cherry pie
    Your melon shakes
    brightens my sour grape-ings.

    Apple of my eye
    Your honey dew lips
    My watermelon dream
    Your pear-ly curves
    my bananas go ape-ing.

  24. Bruce Niedt

    Ode to Pumpkin

    O orange globe, harbinger of autumn
    that you signal by the frost on you,
    you luxuriate on the vine, you who have
    come in handy for Peter Peter Pumpkin Eater,
    Cinderella’s fairy godmother,
    and the Headless Horseman of Sleepy Hollow,
    you whom Linus Van Pelt thinks is Great.
    Residing in that gray area between fruit
    and vegetable, you are at least as large
    as a human head, which makes you convenient
    for carving out faces in late October.
    We scoop out your stringy, slimy, seedy innards,
    and you become a bringer of comestibles.
    We salt and bake your flat-teardrop seeds,
    we roast your meaty pulp, mash it, fold in cream
    and spices, pour it in a pie crust, and bake at
    400o for one hour. O humble squash,
    we thank you for your twofold joy,
    the gifts of dessert and decoration.

  25. Janet Rice Carnahan


    For a fruit
    With the name,
    In it,
    You are so
    Delicate and soft!
    You look,
    And feel so feminine,
    Gentle and beautiful,

    So . . .

    One would ask,
    Someone would want to know . . .
    Who’s your “mama” . . .?


  26. Janet Rice Carnahan


    Honey Dew,
    Honey dew you love me?
    If so, open me up,
    To your sweet love,
    Let’s seed the future with pure dazzle.
    Oh, dear,
    I am blushing and gushing,
    A fine ruby red,
    You can’t marry me?
    Then I shall become melancholy,
    I know,
    Why, oh why . . .

    Can’t we elope?
    And make people orange . . .

    With envy!


    I have got a question,
    I hear you have another name,
    Alligator pear!
    I assume it is,
    Because your outer skin,
    Is dark green and scaly,
    Yet you have no bite,
    That might,
    Scare me away.
    You actually appeal,
    To me greatly,
    It is kind of the pits,
    That your pit,
    Is bigger than,
    Your tasty sides,
    Yet how wonderfully,
    Amazing that when we,
    Squish you, mash you and smash you,
    Add some lemon, salt and mayo,
    As well as tomato,
    You go from being one item,
    To a bowlful serving so many,
    Because when the chips are down,
    We really dig you,
    You are our tasty,


  27. PSC in CT


    little apple dumpling
    on the swings, legs pumping,
    precious little sweet pea
    bouncin’ on her mama’s knee,
    plucky pint-size peachy pie
    climbing up so very high,
    itty bitty sugar plum
    cryin’ ‘cause he couldn’t come,
    pumpkin on the monkey bars –
    all are trying to reach the stars

  28. Kit Cooley


    It doesn’t’ take a rhyme
    To describe such pungent
    Sweetness, bright as tropic
    Sun, zest for cakes,
    and marmalade sublime.
    Peeled and sectioned,
    Squeezed into a glass,
    And sliced into crescents,
    Just big enough to make
    A goofy orange smile.


    Green and teenie, wee zucchini,
    Perfect sautéed with linguine,
    Grilled with salmon, garlic butter,
    Tomato, basil—my heart’s a-flutter,
    Prolific vines with darlings laden,
    Soon enthusiasm’s fading,
    Leaves will hide you out of sight
    Grown to giant, what a fright!

  29. DanielAri

    “Prickly pear”

    Dad gets a leather swatch.
    His three sons watch.

    He sets a stool and sidles up
    to pull the read ball from the top.

    It’s no bigger than a plum.
    He gets it in the thumb

    as he uses the leather to break
    the longest spines, then he takes

    the apple peeler and gingerly
    skins the fruit thoroughly.

    He puts the glistening meat
    on a china plate

    and puts the spines and peels
    in the compost pile.

    Then he cuts the fruit in four,
    one bite for each. No more.

    It tastes like a teeny
    slice of warm kiwi.

    It’s a lot of effort for the prize
    divided between the guys,

    but none think dad a fool.
    Eating cactus. Cool.

  30. Jane Shlensky


    I’m heavily rely on crunch
    To exercise my teeth,
    Like I hear toothy rodents do
    To file their ‘dents’ a size or two.

    A baby carrot crunch is pleasing
    Broccoli, cauliflower, or apples
    Cabbage, pears, and artichoke
    Both fruit and vegetables stoke

    My munching, revving me up
    For mixed and matched all tastes sublime,
    Citrus, savory, or mildly munchy
    Fruit or vegetable, I love crunchy.

  31. Jane Shlensky


    A Southeast Asian market is full of surprises,
    Vegetables like purple boulders and ladies’ hats,
    Fruits like stars, Buddha heads, dragon teeth, and human hearts.

    I’m drawn to a table piled high with tiny wiffle balls,
    Pinky red and spiked all over like rubbery fur,
    Beautiful and strange as sunsets reflecting on rice paddies.

    I try a few languages on the sales lady, relying on mime
    And money as the universal communicator, asking what
    This is called and how one should go about eating it.

    She smiles and smiles as I point and shrug. “Rambutan!”
    She says, cracking open the small spiked ball, offering
    The meat inside, white and fleshy as a grape,

    Tasting of citrus, coconut, and pineapple, the seed round
    And black as a monkey’s eye, the sweet juice dripping
    Until I’m sticky and refreshed. Rambutan. I’ll remember that.


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