Oh Poor Garlic
About garlic
Oh poor garlic, pungent onion
Purple flower globe rising tall
You are said to ease the bunion
Yet, you make the mouthed greeting stall
When your bulb is whole
Your pale white beauty
Belies your child cloves goal
Of odor which is none too fruity
Garlic, you are ancient too
Enjoyed in biblical locales
We modern folks respect you
Partake of, even on Venice's canals
Copyright 2009 - Mindy Makuta (aka MyFairLadyah)
If you like this poem, please Donate to help the Author keep Writing -->