Guest Poet Ben Copito
The Elusive Pear
As luscious as the shapely pear may seem,
suspended in full ripeness from an orchard tree,
(as if one could view tree-ripe maturity)
within the grocer's stall all lie still-born.
Goose-necked Bosc is iron armor rusts,
as squat d'Anjou of gallic savor hints,
while pallid Barlett false blush applies,
asserting maturity in cunning disguise.
Piled up like stone lie leather-skinned Comice,
patiently resigned to ripeness or decay,
whether one or the other, which customer can say?
The melon, now, when ripe emits sweet fragrance,
a flower tempting honey bee to dine,
unlike the pear, which stints her redolence.
Ben Copito's questions:
Does the tongue-in-cheek quality come through? Does the intermittent rhyming disturb the humor? Thanks.
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