Tomato Sprawl Scrawl Poem by Jonathan ROBIN

Tomatoes red, bred, sown together,
dependent on capricious weather
happy-go-lucky hell-for-leather
we spread outwards, wonder whether
we’ll end in bird crop, rot - whatever
providing seeds sprout on forever.

Read facts that human history
recounts for all posterity.
Around five hundred years ago,
learn, inwardly digest, mark, know
cerasiforme, like a cherry,
we once grew on a tiny tree.

Columbus brought us ‘cross the sea
in fourteen hundred ninety three,
Mattioli's Herbal mentionned though
he thought us poison pomi d’oro,
gold apple, red then none could see.
We came through Spain to Italy.

Across Atlantic bravely we
sailed in the fifteenth century,
though there’s some evidence to show
that ‘stout Cortez’ from Mexico
imported us as seeds or tree
that Aztecs called xitomatli.

The latter added salt, chili,
to make their salsa formerly.
As sprawling vine hardy tomato
advances, often wont to grow
up reaching sometimes metres three,
as many yards for backyards’ glee.

Before first cookbook recipe
Time flew with true celerity,
Two hundred years, and why so slow?
Confused with Deadly Nightshade’s glow
or Belladonna’s poison pea:
witch wolf-peach named in Germany.

Book edited in Napoli
began tamed fame, name followed free
after some fifty years or so
by other authors in the know,
by Glass’s ‘Art of Cookery’
to flavour soup, ingredient key.

In Peru six variety
still grow as they were meant to be;
unlike the lowly potato
no vegetable, fruit yellow
to bunch for brunch or sandwich, tea:
ketchup, paste, fortuity
sprawl scrawl hastes good taste poetry.