Day 58: Write a poem about a tomato

As you may have noticed, poetry is not my forte. In fact, I’m really bad at it. So I can only apologise for what comes next. 

What even are you, tomato, tomato?

No decisions on how to pronounce.

For those who love you, tomato, tomato,

So keenly on salad they pounce.

And yet there are those who, tomato, tomato,

Have no will to go near, not an ounce.

Are you a fruit, tomato, tomato,

as scientists tend to proclaim.

Or possibly veg, tomato, tomato,

From others, always the same.

There is only one choice, tomato, tomato,

To eat you, I fear, is the game.

How do we pronounce you, tomato, tomato?

With an ay or an ah, I’m confused.

Is it ay as in may, tomato, tomato,

As the Americans say, so bemused.

Or ah as in ma, tomato, tomato,

My ideas light bulb has fused.

So now here we are, tomato, tomato,

At the end of the poem, I’m pleased.

Writing poems is hard, tomato, tomato,

But through this one I seem to have breezed.

Ah, now it’s lunchtime, tomato, tomato,

Time to pair you with bread and some cheese.

The Idiot in Tin Foil


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