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User Name Thread Name Subject Posted
GUEST,ClaireBear Peas, songs or poems (24) RE: Peas, songs or poems 23 Nov 04


I found three for you.

The first is a prose poem, 1930s advertising style:

As their savory odor drifts upward, a dreamy look will overspread your countenance, and as you taste their rare succulence, their yielding tenderness, their glorious just-off-the-vine flavor, a feeling of blissful satisfaction will literally permeate you.

-- Advertisement for frozen peas in The New Yorker, January 1936

In the second one, peas doesn't come in until the next-to-last line, and I'm pretty sure it's a mistyping of the word "peace" (it's not the only typo, as you'll see) -- but somehow the resulting pun helps rescue the poem from being complete maudlin:

MOTHER'S HANDS

Dear gentle hands have stroked my hair
And cooled my brow,
Soft hands that pressed me close
And seemed to know somehow
Those fleeting moods and erring thoughts
That cloud me day,
Which quickly melt beneath their suffrage
And pass away.

No other balm for earthly pain
Is half so sure,
No sweet caress as filled with love
Nor half so pure.
No other sould so close akin
That understands,
No touch that brings such perfect peas
As Mother's hands.

-- W. Dayton Wedgefarth

The third -- while also a bit on the sappy side -- is, I think, a winner for your needs:

A DINNER OF THANKSGIVING

Marilyn Ferguson Nov. 12, 2002
(found it here)

She was just a bent old lady
Her hair was full of gray
I was just a child of seven
Who had stepped outside to play.

Her dress was worn and tattered
She looked so frail and thin
But her eyes were warm and caring
And she kindly asked me in.

As the morning hours were fading
I recall her gentle plea
"Please stay a little longer
And enjoy a meal with me."

I had no way of knowing
That her shelves were nearly bare
But it didn't really matter
She was glad to have me there.

The meal was small and meager
But I felt like I'd been blessed
When I sat there at the table
And she served to me her best.

In honor of her memory
This moment I will seize
To be thankful for the bounty
When we shared a bowl of peas.

I am humbled by her spirit
Unblemished through the years
She's smiling down from heaven
As I wipe away these tears.

For she, too, still remembers
That warm delightful day
When a little girl of seven
Had stepped outside to play.


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