So Pretty

Collard leaves are so pretty,
On a plate so dandy
Loving soil so sandy,
Much better than candy.

Collard leaves are so pretty
With green tones so bright.
Sleeping during night,
They rise in sunlight.

Collard leaves are so pretty.
No plant likes to lean.
If raw, they are mean
And a bitter green.

Collard leaves are so pretty.
Spread around cow poo.
A little will do.
Wait to eat a few.

Collard leaves are so pretty,
Every morning and night,
Bunched together tight,
Good to the last bite.

Collard leaves are so pretty.
So little they cost.
Ready at first frost,
Without them we’re lost.

Collard leaves are so pretty.
Every plant’s a king.
Eat with chicken wing.
Then praises we’ll sing.

Collard leaves are so pretty,
Far better than kale,
Every fall for sale,
Don’t buy if they’re pale.

Collard leaves are so pretty,
Greener than turnips,
Juices for our sips --
Pot likker to our lips!

Collard leaves are so pretty.
When gone, everyone grieves
And wants more huge leaves
To eat with field peas.

Collard leaves are so pretty.
When stiff, hard to fold,
Quickly they are sold.
They’re worth more than gold.

Collard leaves are so pretty.
Vitamins they pack
Put them in a sack.
Sweeten with fatback.

Collard leaves are so pretty,
Pleasing to the eye.
Without them we might die.
Let’s eat some – oh my!



Note: This poem, prepared for the Sixth Annual Collard Festival in Maxton, NC, that I attended on Nov. 12, 2011, placed first in the collard poetry contest. It's a prize winner!

My First True Love

My first true love --
We met in the field at night.
I kept her warm when it was cold.
She made each day a delight.
With wonder that was so bold.
My first true love was a collard plant.

My first true love --
Always a glorious sight,
A treasure she was to me.
Time together was so right.
Everyone could plainly see.
My first true love was a collard plant.

My first true love --
Worth more than a huge diamond,
Fore’er her praises I could sing.
She loved cold sand and warm sun
And sparkled in early spring.
My first true love was a collard plant.

My first true love --
She always smiled in the rain
And glistened in the bright sun.
Firm she was but oh so plain.
Romance should never be done.
My first true love was a collard plant.

My first true love --
Sometimes coarse and so very green,
She grew up extremely fast.
Then ne’er again was she seen.
But my love forev’r will last.
My first true love was a collard plant.


Note: This poem was prepared in appreciation of the Sixth Annual Collard Festival in Maxton, NC, that I attended on Nov. 12, 2011.

Collards Sprouting

Collards sprouting in old fields
Become green as green can be.
They soak up morning sunshine
As they wake up happily.

Daybreak dew glistens on leaves
That sparkle like priceless stones
As they create nutrients
Needed to strengthen our bones.

Rain storms crash over the fields.
Emerald leaves come to life
And soon soar like eagle wings
But quickly fall by our knife.

Into kitchens we bring them
To wash sand from their thick veins.
We heat our favored kettles
Often filled with captured rains.

Unable to stand the heat,
Leaves wilt like a jailed sinner.
We poke sometimes too often
To see if set for dinner.

To evening table they come
Where they claim a place of pride
Next to pork dishes we crave.
Ready for blessings, they bide.



Note: This poem was prepared in appreciation of the Fifth Annual Collard Festival in Maxton, NC, that I attended on Nov. 13, 2010.

Pot Likker

Feeling so poorly?
Couldn’t be sicker?
You know what to do:
Drink some pot likker.

Something ailing you?
Wanna fight and bicker?
You know what to do:
Drink some pot likker.

Heavy weight troubling?
Too big for the wicker?
You know what to do:
Drink some pot likker.

So lonely and blue?
Get better, quicker.
You know what to do:
Drink some pot likker.

Troubled and worried
About your ticker?
You know what to do:
Drink some pot likker.

You’re OK, but girlfriend
Says you should kick her.
You know what to do:
Give her some pot likker.

Note: This poem, prepared for the Fifth Annual Collard Festival in Maxton, NC, that I attended on Nov. 13, 2010, placed second in the collard poetry contest. It's a prize winner!

Emerald Leaves

Can you imagine
Old plants as they give
Love to families,
Love that surrounds
All our closest kin?
Ripen quickly as
Delicious green sheets
Sandy with our soil.

Keep your watchful
Eye on the plants as
Emerald leaves sprout,
Plentiful for all.

Under the morning
Sun, always growing,

Heavy with daybreak dew,
Every leaf glistens
And shines with delight.
Lusting for sunshine,
They soon deliver
Health and nutrition.
You can’t wait to taste.


Note: This poem is an acrostic (the first letter of each line spells a word or a message), a style popularized in North Carolina among university students by George Moses Horton (1798-1880?), an enslaved African American who taught himself to read and composed in his head a series of stanzas based on the rhythms in Wesley hymns. This poem was prepared in appreciation of the Fifth Annual Collard Festival in Maxton, NC, that I attended on Nov. 13, 2010.