Pure, Pristine Little Pumpkin

Tagged in: Brain Poems

pure pristine little pumpkin

something once just tucked amongst

unsung dirt vines and leaves

it’s hard to believe

the world ever had him in its sleave.

sprouting, growing. existense–

definition of pure.

given a home

rich and secure,

never taken for granted,

a mentor to those newly planted

“drink the water the hose quirts for growth spirts,

eat the earth’s dirt,

and it’ll add to your girth.

little orange orbs.

it’ll build your form–as it absorbs.”

“the freshest grass is over here,

little deer,

Rummage in the umbrage under

my broadest leaf,

to give your hunger

a modest releif.”

“friends of the garden,

let the skin of your limbs harden.

marinate in this spot’s tranquility

and be thankful for this plot’s abilty

to give you such life and wonder

free of strife and plunder.”

and a land of moderate and dull cultivation

profited under the unheralded motivation

to something seldom-sweeter

under a one of a kind melon-leader.

incidious, creeping shrubs intruded

and were drivin back

as grubs un-rooted.

when rain and wind the sky did wield,

the young were behind him–

a pumpkind shield.

then one day,

a man walked through,

bits of hay on muddy shoes.

The pumpkin said,

“welcome to our home,

human friend!

you’re free to roam

without an end.”

And as though the greeting

had found deaf ears

the man came over

and was leaning near.

and from his belt he pulled a hatchet

then he calmly grabbed a stem and hacked it.

onto young fruit’s faces went the splatter,

they froze in silence but it did not matter.

To their horror and livid fright,

the man put their lovable hero in sack

put it over his back,

and then walked out of site.

They would hear only screams the rest of the night.

in the darkness of the human’s place,

the human cut the pumpkins face.

stabbing him over and over, and over again

making brutal wounds that would never mend.

carving out chunks of flesh and throwing them aside

grabbing and plucking at his insides,

he cut the innocent pumpkin while it slowly died…

staring triumphantly at his new, triangled eyes.

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