Gino thinks I should toast (Salud!) 'the Salad'.
[Toast, not toss.] So here, for Gino, is a ballad
'bout carrots and lettuce and other bunny fare,
but give ME baked potato, and a big steak, rare!
My Mom pushed salads too, when i was a wee kid.
When she wasn't looking, in my pockets, it I once hid.
But that ruse did not work for very long, no indeed!
The next day I paid; I had to learn the 'Salad Creed'.
Each supper time I had to stand and then recite:
'I believe salads are good for me; I'll eat each bite.
A growing boy like me needs greens and such each day.
I'm grateful for each salad and for more I do pray.'
So, by sheer boy-strength i managed to eat some,
but Mom wasn't totally mean; I ate not each crumb.
I left some lettuce, some carrot, and onion for sure,
but balked at radishes; Mom swore they could 'cure'.
I never found out if radishes were the true 'cure',
or what they would cure. Not Mom, that's for sure.
She, who ate salad twice each day of her short life,
died at age forty. She'd been a GOOD Mom and wife.
Then Dad took over the raising of me and my brother.
We ate fewer salads for sure, and gravy we did smother
on french fries, and onion rings, pot roast and more.
Dad worked, so he got a cook to handle the supper chore.
Now I am married, and I've got a lovely and caring wife.
I only wish she'd get off the salad kick; it causes me strife.
Not only does it remind me of my Mom, whom I did love,
but I have to eat salad before, into my trap, meat i can shove.
(October 14, 2014)
This is cute! Enjoyable read here. What's wrong with eating both? :)
So tasty composition Bri..very nice and concluded with caring care thank u
DEFINITIONS: trap is 'slang', i guess, for mouth. as in: Shut your trap, Bri! , said my wife. ruse is a trick/ploy/etc..
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Salads are so delicious if mixed with a home made salad dressing of olive oil, honey, vinegar, pepper powder and salt! I love them.....much more than your pizzas and ice creams! Instead of struggling to hide it away in your pocket, when your mother served it, you could have parcelled it to me......! Enjoyed the poem Bri!