Ode To Pesticide

Hark to thee, O pesticide,

Whose potency does not abide,

Why do the bugs control my garden,

Your deficiency, I cannot pardon,

On your label — a thriving field,

Full of herbs and crops to yield,

A supermarket, I’ll never sought,

Produce abound, I’ll want for naught,

But lo, the truth can now be told,

And all that glitters is not gold,

With futile sprays and scents so strong,

Pests march along — a merry throng!

The way they sit up-on perennials,

My topiary and my fern tendrils,

They chomp and suck at chlorophyll,

I see them on my windowsill,

So bold are they to hang around,

And the way they breed…it does astound,

But still, I spray and spray away,

I spray at night and in the day,

‘Why won’t you work!’ I want to scream,

Surely this is not just a pipe dream,

I specifically chose you from the store,

Your online reviews had a high score,

The shop assistant also said,

‘This one hits the nail on the head’,

But oh, she lied, and I feel betrayed,

And when I think of her, I now feel shade,

She had nice eyes and I wanted her number,

But she’s caused the death of my cucumber,

‘Blast her,’ I think, I’m done with this,

I ball my hand ball into a fist,

I wished to frolic in my own field,

With a trowel and dirt to wield,

Is that really a lot to ask?

Why is that such a difficult task?

This is why I hate consumerism,

It has failed me and caused derision,

I cannot buy another one,

That’s what they want and it is not fun,

I gaze hopelessly at my estate,

A utopia for pests I cannot bait,

They laugh at me behind my back,

Species abound — I can’t keep track,

Aphids, they cover my pruned stems,

Spider mites treat ficus like gems,

White moths turn leaves to Swiss cheese,

While slugs and snails are like a wild disease,

I breath a sigh, my brain feels fried,

And then I see you, O pesticide,

As my tomatoes whither,

And my herbs, they dither,

And I know my crop just won’t deliver,

And I feel…I think I feel a slight shiver…

It is simply not right,

That I endure such trite,

‘Surely this is not my fault’, I say,

‘But rather the fault of a badly-made spray’,

You will not get the best of me,

I must purge myself of this du-ty,

This thankless task,

It was such an ask,

I feel so dumb,

But the time has come,

Toward the shed, I break into a stride,

I will conquer and divide,

For now I know, it is scorched Earth I seek,

A barren wasteland — so flat and sleek,

They will see that I’m not weak,

For too long the bugs have ruled — such cheek!

I find the tool I’m after most,

My fingers slide around the post,

I plug it in and away we go,

‘HAHAHA’ I shriek — a fatal blow,

Across the land red flames do lick,

I see the orchard reduced to stick,

The smell of charcoal comes in quick,

‘Take that! I bellow, the smoke — she’s thikk

I think that this will do the trick,

I actually feel a wee bit sick,

Oh god, I need to shut this off quick,

I kill the furnace with a ‘click’,

And run into the house in a flick,

I slam door and cover the gaps,

And cough and laugh at my burning traps,

From the window I can see it all,

That sound, that sight — it does enthrall,

Take that, you stupid pesky fiends,

Thinking you could eat my greens,

I am the winner of this competition,

O pesticide, was this not your ambition?

Just when it seems the flames are too tall,

The rain comes and douses it all,

Only embers and red coals remain,

And the steam surrounds my domain,

Alas, I feel a pang in my tum,

‘A feast!’ I think, ’I’ll make something yum’,

To the fridge I go with haste,

I will make some fries with salt — to taste,

I open up the crisper draw,

But then I feel my stomach fall,

I see this problem is not small,

For it seems…it seems that I have to go to the store.