Tale Weaver’s Prompt #2 Guessing Game


I taste of the earth

Of damp root cellars

And obsolete wombs

Petrified and crisp

My juice wilts the palate

I appear bedeviled

As a shrunken head

With tufts of red-ribboned leaves

And a root that looks

Like a proboscis

I am hard and maternal

Like the cast of a woman’s breast

I am as common as wine

And can be used to make

A spirit comparable to port

I am a gem in vagabond stitch

Staining fingers and lips claret

As if the aftermath

Of a carnvirous feast

I can summon

Love from hearts

As bitter and laminate

As an unripened pomelo

I am a Goddess

A poor man’s dinner

A selection of mummified testicles

An asymmetrical top

That wobbles and rolls

But cannot fluently spin

I am a crouching Buddha

A farmer’s oyster

A clod of dirt best served

With ham and Dijon mustard

I am the neglected fountain

Of a poorly-expressed youth

I am a runner’s anodyne

I am the celestial pulse

Of a poetical sphere

I am the mighty,

I am the beet


I have never written a poem about a vegetable before lol I fear I’ve not done a very good job of it either. Could you guess which vegetable I was referring too? I refereed to beets as the poor man’s oyster because they also effect the libido and are said to work like Viagra. Beets improve stamina and reduce blood pressure hence the reference to the runner. There is also a myth that says if a man and woman share the same beet they will fall in love. I think I was supposed to write a tale but I wrote a poem. This is not part of the 33 autobiographical poems I wish to write beets do not figure that strongly into my life lol


This was written for

Tale Weaver’s Prompt