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Rhubarb and Poetry

As rhubarb season is underway in my garden and many gardens in the Northern Hemisphere, I went in search of poems about rhubarb. I didn’t expect the homely vegetable would have so many poems extolling its virtues.

The source for most of the poems was a contest sponsored by The Merry Dairy, an ice cream shop in Ottawa, Ontario. For last year’s Be A Rhubarb Bard Poetry Contest, over 80 poems were submitted. If you’ve a fondness for rhubarb and/or poetry, you can read them all at The Merry Dairy. I’ve culled my favorites and included below. (They are without the poets’ names on the website).

And BTW, at this time of year, you’ll likely find Roasted Rhubarb and Strawberry-Rhubarb ice cream among the offerings at The Merry Dairy.

Early Riser
Rhubarb, the first to rise this droughtful spring,
struggles up through drowsing ground weeks
before annuals even learn their names.
Driven out of formal gardens, its red periscopes
live rough in lanes, spread to vacant lots,
occupy sketchy alleys.
Rhubarb’s a thriver, her scalloped skirts flap
wider than a road, surpass neighbour weeds.
Desperate to be noticed, she pays her way
in leafage.
The odd gardener relents, chews and spits
a stalk or two, chops and cubes, sugars sauce.
There are never any takers.
Rhubarb the Artefact, housed in Gem jars, waits
in cellars, labels pasted on in a ghost aunt’s hand,
the day, the month, the year of preservation.

A few rhubarb haiku

Spring’s first offering
Stocky, leafy, red and green
Tart, delicious treat!

Paper cups of sugar
Ragged red stalks, sweet and tart
Laughter of children

Oh, ruby stalks!
Under-appreciated; tart.
Rhubarb: heart of spring.

Grandmother rhubarb
Spreads ruby arms to hug clouds
While the worms cuddle dirt.

A final thought on rhubarb
I loved rhubarb, that hardy, underappreciated garden survivor that leafed out just as the worst of winter melted away. Not everyone was a fan, especially of the bitter, mushy, overcooked version. Yet sometimes a little bitterness could bring out the best in other flavors. Bitter rhubarb made sunny-day strawberry face the realities of life—and taste all the better for it. Judith Fertig

Use the search feature in upper right to see other posts I’ve done on rhubarb.
Graphics from The Merry Dairy website.