The Job Of A Tomato Poem by PRIYANKA BHANDARKAR

A problem of choice, the child to be, which gives opportunities
transformation of beauty, the conceit of age
the journey that she lived, a little flute bearing horn
no sound, thoughts which make memories and desires
to complete perfection, as god believed, the ten commandments of love
she would wrap around love to the roots of deconstruction
a child which waits with patience, tears of blessings
the moron who would consider himself perfect, a disgrace he is a moron
the intricate lines of a leaf, a job commitment
the splotches of god's grandeur which may be alive
never our own desires, never a lamp of love

for time man did not create but follows.

the inches missed a bullet
the creature that has fallen
a greater teacher, one of possibilities
the lamp at the round table, an image
the knights and squires who bare the truth

the world eats on a plate or with hands
the world tastes the food all love
the greasy smudge on the plate
to the lonely window naked
a considerartion of the child, a contedness of god

the wonderful rays of the sun, awake, arise.
a host of them flying in victory
they even now grow, between the weeds, the virtues
a fruit that is being eaten, good god

i called it luck, that of which has a bow
my poet, my poet.

that atmosphere which creates seems untitled, unknown
but time man did not create but follows.