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A love apple's just a tomato (edit of "Uprooting") (Free verse) by fevriere I have planted your name
in phonebooks, in address lists,
in neat little rows
in places where it will be easy to uproot
(where you can't make love flower,
where no apple grows)
where it won't flower with every look it gets.
I am still drunk on your scent.
I repeat what I know:
(that love blossoms when you tend it)
lust is only fruit,
and love's just potatoes.
Up the ladder:
A naughty strumpet
Down the ladder:
Reconstruction
Votes: (green: user, blue: anonymous)
Arithmetic Mean: 7.6
Posted: January 31, 2005 1:42 PM PST; Last modified: April 20, 2005 12:59 PM PDTWeighted score: 5.3099275 Overall Rank: 3592 Comments:
The apples took me by surprise. Don't know why.
They were late addition. Tempted to cut them to:
where you cannot make love flower or get me drunk on your heady scent. And lose the lust..love's.. lines.
Enjoyable reading
Thanks!
Comma after love in fourth verse I presume. Love's only potatoes made me giggle. Personally I would have put it at the start, dare the narrator to explain herself on the whole love spud thing.
Ah, potatoes! There's a thought. Not sure what's going on with "make love(,) flower".
Not bad. I thing the smart tart bit could be better, but I like the fruit/potatoes lines.
Better how? Ideas, ideas.
The fruit/potatoes stays but I'm going to move it to the beginning of the poem. Deal?
Don't make deals. it's your poem. I don't know about that one part. I'll think on it. I'm just not a big fan of rhyme in free verse.
I liked the apples line very much. It's like one of those delightful, bursting with child-like joy unexepected lines eec was so good at surprising you with.
Thanks. I am surprised though because I'm not sure how much that line means.
I like the spuds at the end. just potatoes/ just desserts. cool.
Ta.
i thought love was just sausages.
That too.
Drop "and" from the last line.
And maybe "just", too.
"love's potatoes" would be too confusing, as if lust/fruit was the potato of love. Get me? "and" needs cutting though, excellent call.
Brackets are irritating, last two lines are delightful.
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"I hate you, you bastard, stabbed me in the heart, I'm stronger, don't need you, you'll regret dumping or cheating on me, blarg, blarg, etc, etc."
I almost gave up the hope that somebody would put some thought into an "uprooting" poem.
Blessed with eight.