I, Garlic

A poem

Photo by on

Even though
almost everybody sings my praises
there are very few songs about me.

You could argue I’m everywhere,
even when you don’t get to see me.

I have been diced, crushed,
pureed, and, gasp, pulverized.

They call me versatile but,
what I truly am, is paramount.

If you doubt my words,
devote a few minutes
to imagine a world without me.

Pretty repulsive, huh?

Sadly, there are those
who claim they can’t stand me.

They say I’m too pungent,
that they can sense me from a block away
and that my aroma
brings them pain.

Poor fools!

There’s nothing I can do about it,
and, in fact, I don’t need to;
after all, I’m the king of the spice rack,
and you’ll struggle to find a kitchen
without me.

So, let the naysayers
keep spreading their myths;
I know who I am,
and so do you.

I am the mighty garlic,
coming soon
to a dish near you.

Thanks to

Jupiter Grant

for the tag.