light verse

“Brussels sprouts are misunderstood — probably because most people don’t know how to cook them properly.” ~ Todd English

*M.T. Ross (Mother Earth’s Children: The Frolics of the Fruits and Vegetables, 1914).*

Love ‘em or hate ‘em? Only a small majority of people feel so-so about these spunky green orbs, sometimes fondly referred to as baby cabbages (so cute!).

Perhaps no other vegetable elicits such a strong reaction in kids as well as adults. Despite all the debate, Brussels sprouts continue to inspire artists and poets.

Did you like them when you were little? Does this poem sound like you?

I HATE BRUSSELS SPROUTS!
by Cynthia C. Naspinski

I know that stink! I have no doubts
That Mom has cooked up some Brussels sprouts.
Of all the things that I despise,
The Brussels sprout would take first prize.

I've blocked my nose and tried to swallow,
Guzzled lots of milk to follow,
But I can tell you nothing works
'Cause in my mouth the taste still lurks.

Once I slipped one in my pocket,
But after dinner I forgot it.
Next day I shoved my hand in there
And gave myself a nasty scare.

In Mom's pot plant I used to hide
A sprout or two, but then IT DIED!
And now my sister's learned to count,
I can't add to her sprout amount.

My dog won't even help me out.
He will not eat a Brussels sprout.
He'll lick his butt, eat possum poop,
But to eat sprouts he will not stoop.

Maybe it is just as well
Because his farts already smell.
He does not need a Brussels sprout
to turbocharge what's coming out!

Please Mom, can we work out a deal
That gets me out of this here meal?
I'd clear the table, do the dishes,
Be your genie, grant you wishes.

I'd clean my room a little later
And feed the dog (that little traitor!).
I'd pull weeds till my hands blister,
I'd even play nice with my sister.

But Mom, it would be best all around
If other veggies could be found,
So we could all just go without
The gross, revolting Brussels sprout!

~ as published by Family Friend Poems (2020).

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#52 in an ongoing series of posts celebrating the alphabet.

Foreword

A chowder is a robust goop
That’s more akin to stew than soup.
It can be brackish or divine.
Sit down and take a taste of mine.

So begins Alpha Beta Chowder, a wry, witty, and deliciously wicked ABC poetry book by husband and wife team Jeanne Steig and William Steig. This classic 26-verse feast of wacky wordplay was originally published by HarperCollins in 1992 and reissued by Atheneum/Caitlyn Dlouhy Books last month.

I admit this title has been on my radar for years but I only recently had the chance to read it. Of course I’m a longtime William Steig fan — I still sigh and swoon over Brave Irene and Dr. DeSoto, especially — but I wasn’t familiar with Jeanne Steig’s work, and boy, have I been missing out!

*Nasty numbskull Naomi and her nitwit Ma and Pa*

Goodbye, boring “A is for Apple” and “Z is for Zoo” — Jeanne’s cheeky alliterative rhyming poems feature a motley crew of odd and quirky mock heroes, many you’d rather read about than meet in person. God forbid you get stuck in a room with Noisome Naomi, a nervy newtish nightmare whose “voice is like a needle,” or come within hearing distance of Coaxing Carrotina and her blister inducing shrill cadenzas on the concertina. *covers ears*

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