Foodie poetry

Introduction
The following is a set of four interconnected poems. Interconnected poetry is known as a pamphlet (and, in life-writing may be described as having a 'through-line'), though there are usually more than four poems in a pamphlet in my experience.

The four poems are:

1. The Black Plant (five quatrains following a scheme of XAXA, XBXB, etc);
2. Orange Squash (a single quatrain with an ABAB scheme); 
3. The Green Stuff (a sonnet in iambic pentameter - though neither Shaespearean nor Petrachan); and
4. The Crown (a couplet mean to top off the lot).

The through-line is food but there are other themes too. I've used several techniques including slant-rhyme and different rhyming schemas. Comments much appreciated.

1: The Black Plant

It’s still used as currency

for paying the rent

in St George’s, Bermuda

and Sevenoaks, Kent[1]

An industrial machine

that blasts through blockades

and marches through continents;

a Dark Gold parade.

Oh, there's trouble at mill

when the grinding blade breaks,

stealing the soot

away from our plates.

Though once the preserve

of the wealthy upper-classes,

you’re now less to serve

than rich, black, molasses.

Black is the drupe

and white is its seed,

with the Black Plant we spice up

mouths that we feed.

(20 lines)

---

[1] In Bermuda, today, a single peppercorn is paid by the island’s masonic lodge to the island’s governor for the rental of the Old State House as their lodge. In Sevenoaks, Kent, two peppercorns are paid each year to the council by the Vine Cricket Club: one for the rental of the grounds and one for the rental of the clubhouse.

2: Orange Squash

Orange, all hollowed, with Cheshire cat cheeks.

Pulp all the flesh for sweet pies and hot soups.

Cut demonic faces for kids’ trick or treats;

this gourd that lights monsters? A multi seed fruit.

(4 lines)

3: The Green Stuff

Pulled from the ground, all covered in soil,

tear off the leaves and wash in a spinner

then dry all the blades so I don't spoil

chlorophyll fibres served up with my dinner.

Green is the colour that’ll track though my tract;

but green on its own? I need more than that.

Mix in more colours to entice the palate

then garnish with seeds and dark vinaigrette,

to take the edge off the dullness of salad.

A feast incomplete that my fork rejects,

where are the carbs and the protein I crave?

Bare salad alone, today I must brave.

I’m not vegetarian or anything like that

It’s just that I don’t want to remain fat.

(14 lines)

 

4: The Crown

All good food deserves a fine liquid crown.

A glass of Sancerre, to wash the lot down.

(2 lines)

© 2012 Toby Corballis