Entry - MAG Poetry Prize 2010

Tomatoes

by Emma Stott

October's hollows trawled,
I haul tomato shoals
On vines as thick as fishing nets,
They hang in lines like traffic lights
But red on red on red,
I snap their thread and heap them into bowls
Or fill my hands and juggle them like glowing coals,
Until a spill of billiard balls,
They roll likes noses loosed from clowns
But fairer than the rose,
My droll tomatoes aren't all skirts and scent,
I rent their skins with steam,
And after blossoms drift their hearts unsheath,
I sift their flesh for glinting seeds,
And seek as a prospector gleaning gold,
For months they'll hold their fruit like hope,
Until the tropes of red harvest pronounce the time,
My lover's hands will ripen then and in mine
Rhyme.

Added: 29.04.2010

Judges' comments on this poem

06.05.2010

love the poem - great imagery, especially the red on red on red. Not sure if the end word 'rhyme' is necessary though?

25.05.2010

A beautiful original poem that demands to be re-read.

26.05.2010

A wonderful feeling for the sound of words; you really relish them. A pity the rhythm slips at the end.

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