October 1-7, 2018: Poetry from E. R. Sanchez and Debra Leissner

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E. R. Sanchez and Debra Leissner

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E. R. Sanchez
friedpotatopress@gmail.com

Bio (auto)

E. R. Sanchez began with reality and chiseled away at it until it became poetry. From a desk in Los Angeles, California, he hopes to create the experience of looking at a painting, a sculpture, an image, or a scene through words. Sanchez has been published online and in print. More information about E. R. is available at FriedPotatoPress.com.

The following work is Copyright © 2018, and owned by E. R. Sanchez. and may not be distributed or reprinted in any form whatsoever without written permission from the author.


When A Leaf Leaves The Tree

When a leaf
falls from a tree,
it tumbles on its way,
pushed by the wind. 

If the leaf
returns to the tree,
they will never
be connected
again.

 


Debra Leissner
dhl1957@aol.com

Bio (auto)

Debra Leissner is originally from Texas, but now lives in Buffalo, MN, and is retired from academia.  She is currently working on a novel and writes poetry as the mood strikes.

The following work is Copyright © 2018, and owned by Debra Leissner and may not be distributed or reprinted in any form whatsoever without written permission from the author.


Don’t Grow Tomatoes

Do not grow tomatoes 
Like the ones they sell
In the grocery store.

Leave off manmade
Compounds designed to speed the process
Or annihilate other living things.
We all gotta eat.

Find a suitable spot in your yard
Or in pots on your porch.
Tomatoes do not travel well.

Help your fledglings as you would your own children,
With good soil, sunshine, and water.  
Play Mozart for them.
Can’t hurt.  

Pay daily homage to their welfare.
Flick the little yellow flowers
To help carry pollen from anthers to stigma.
If you don’t know what that means, 
Look it up.

Be patient.
Try not to interfere too much 
With each tomato’s individual progress 
From seed to fruit.  
Pull one too soon
And you might as well
Have bought it at Piggly-Wiggly.

You will know they’re ready 
When their stems bow their heads
In gratitude at you.

You think you know what a tomato should
Taste like.  But if you’ve never
Grown your own,
You probably don’t.  

Select a ripe one.
Feel its firm soft skin.
Wash it lovingly.
Cup it in your hands.
Contemplate it.
Bite into it.
Flood face with surprise,
Treat mouth to fruit
Of your own labor.  

And no, it’s not a vegetable,
Except by association.
Don’t get hung up on semantics.

Serve with everything.
Share with everyone.

 

 




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