The Watermelon Poem by Shankaran Kutty

Big and heavy and green and round and juicy red inside
My buyer put me in the car and I rolled on the floor inside
His little girl tried to lift me and was scolded till no end
"You drop it on your leg and at the doctor I have to spend "

He carried me home as if I was Olympic shot put ball
And placed me on the bamboo table in the living room hall
Then his mother came and poked me with a knife on my side
And cut me through my stripes of which I did always pride

And then she proudly declared for all in the house to hear
"It is good you bought a water melon but let me make it clear
This melon although big and pretty, has a long way to be ripe
The things they sell in the market nowadays, are nothing but such tripe"

How I wished I could roll off the table and on to her tiny feet
But then I knew I could only dream of such an impossible feat
Don't they know that my life is set, not for me but others
And I have to bear such nonsense from the owners and their mothers

I was cut and served to all as a welcome summer treat
There isn't there a better food to survive the summer heat
Some wanted to crush me and squeeze me and serve me as a fresh cold juice
Grandpa wanted me served in a silver plate, after dinner and nine o clock news

The little girl wanted me as a topping on her scoop of chocolate ice cream
The grandma said I wasn't ripe and so she would have even in her dream
The master came by and cut and carved me with a vegetable carving knife
Then proudly showed his sculpting skills to his young and beautiful wife

Pretty soon all that was left of me was my skin and bright green shell
But knowing I fed so many hungry mouths, I felt so happy and swell
And that last surviving part was fed to their big, red Jersey cow
And so it is from her stomach, that I am telling this story now!

And so you have heard the story of a poor hapless water melon
Of how they treat us worse, than the world's most dangerous felon
But yet you need us as a summer food for your thirsty tribe
Or as a topic to write poems on, for a clueless scribe