A photo of turnips.‘Ode to the Turnip’: A Poem by Paul A. Freeman The Society May 9, 2023 Beauty, Humor, Poetry 31 Comments . Ode to the Turnip Oh, turnip! You’re a vegetable maligned, suggestive of a drunk’s empurpled nose. Baked, or boiled, or steamed, on you I’ve dined, then revelled in a peaceful night’s repose. Your sweet and nutty earthiness when cooked __belies a dull repute— __though you’re the favourite root on which my taste buds stubbornly are hooked. Your calorific value makes you sound for folk on diets tallying their carbs. With vitamins and minerals you’re crowned the King of Veg, despite detractors’ barbs. Unsexy globe enduring temperate climes; __of all crops farmers boast __you’re more robust than most— a bar of gold, a gem for gruelling times. . . Paul A. Freeman is the author of Rumours of Ophir, a crime novel which was taught in Zimbabwean high schools and has been translated into German. In addition to having two novels, a children’s book and an 18,000-word narrative poem (Robin Hood and Friar Tuck: Zombie Killers!) commercially published, Paul is the author of hundreds of published short stories, poems and articles. NOTE TO READERS: If you enjoyed this poem or other content, please consider making a donation to the Society of Classical Poets. The Society of Classical Poets does not endorse any views expressed in individual poems or commentary. CODEC Stories:Share this:Click to share on Twitter (Opens in new window)Click to share on Facebook (Opens in new window)Click to print (Opens in new window)Click to share on LinkedIn (Opens in new window)Click to share on WhatsApp (Opens in new window)Click to email a link to a friend (Opens in new window)Click to share on Pinterest (Opens in new window) 31 Responses Jeremiah Johnson May 9, 2023 Love that “drunk’s empurpled nose” This has the feel of a classic of culinary poesy! Reply Paul Freeman May 9, 2023 Thanks for reading, Jeremiah. Originally, this was a competition entry to write about one of our humbler vegetables. Since the turnip gets a bad rep, I chose it. Reply Cheryl Corey May 9, 2023 But how did you place in that contest? Paul Freeman May 9, 2023 Alas, the competition was very stiff. On the positive side, the poem was a bit of an experiment and has given me more confidence in tackling nature poems that focus on a particular animal or plant. Margaret Coats May 9, 2023 I too enjoy simple turnips, but baked or boiled or steamed with apples they make a festive dish (even more of a “gem for gruelling times”). Reply Paul Freeman May 9, 2023 I’ll have to try a recipe with apples now you’ve mentioned it, Margaret. Reply Cynthia Erlandson May 9, 2023 So much fun! Love the form, and the humor. “Calorific” is great! Reply Paul Freeman May 9, 2023 Glad you enjoyed it, Cynthia. Odes are great for using a less popular or made up, or experimental form. Reply Mary Gardner May 9, 2023 Paul, your apostrophe is well-crafted, with perfect rhyme, and not a superfluous word to be found in it. You have earned my “rispetto.” Reply Paul Freeman May 9, 2023 Thanks, Mary. Sometimes writing a poem can be frustrating, sometimes joyful and fun. This was the latter. Reply Mary Gardner May 9, 2023 Another way to enjoy turnips: O Turnip Greens! We live down South Therefore that means You please our mouth. Though roots taste keen The real boss Is your leaves green With pepper sauce. Paul Freeman May 9, 2023 Even more culinary suggestions. I’ll be able to write ‘The Turnip Cookbook’ at this rate. A lot of vegetables seem to have fallen out of favour once the New World veggies landed in Europe. It also seems that post First and Second World Wars, in Europe, we stopped treating certain vegetables as a staple, leaving the potato to take their place. Roy Eugene Peterson May 9, 2023 I have not thought about turnips or rutabagas in decades! I may have to find some and try them again. The vitamins they contain was the convincing factor. Reply Monika Cooper May 9, 2023 Yes, thank you, Paul, for raising your poetic voice on behalf of the forgotten root vegetables. Reply Paul Freeman May 9, 2023 Today the turnip, tomorrow the manglewurzle! Paul Freeman May 9, 2023 I imagine that with the cost of living crisis, turnips and other less sexy foods that have fallen out of favour will make a comeback. Reply Mary Gardner July 12, 2023 In the feedlot, unicursal*, Cows went to the Manglewurzel. We, with geometric maths Made some multicursal paths. Now the cows take several ways; It adds interest to their days. *with only one route Martin Rizley May 9, 2023 I have never been fond of turnips, but I am quite fond of your tribute to them. By praising the virtues of the turnip so eloquently, you have uprooted my former prejudices, and given me food for thought! After digesting what your have written, I may end up giving the maligned veggie a second chance! Reply Paul Freeman May 9, 2023 I was not a fan of tomatoes until in my twenties when I got stranded in central Sudan with nothing to eat but tomatoes. Now I’m a fan. Reply Norma Pain May 9, 2023 A fun poem on a vegetable that tastes even better when cooked and mashed up with carrots and butter. Yum! Thank you Paul for the reminder to pick up another one. Reply Paul Freeman May 9, 2023 You’re welcome, Norma. With carrots and butter! I’ll get my son on it this week – he’s the best cook in the house. Reply Jeff Eardley May 9, 2023 Lots of food for thought in your most amusing poem. Here in middle England they used to be called “Chonnocks” which is a great word. I haven’t tasted one since the 60’s and have no intention of starting now. Great stuff Paul!!! Reply Paul Freeman May 9, 2023 Thanks for commenting, Jeff. Glad you liked the poem. ‘Chonnock’, ‘rutabaga’ – I’ve learned two new words for something already familiar. Reply Joseph S. Salemi May 9, 2023 A mixture of mashed turnips and mashed potatoes was once a common side dish at Thanksgiving here in the United States. The turnips added a slightly peppery flavor to the potatoes. During World War I, the winter of 1916-17 was called the Turnip Winter (“Steckrubenwinter”) by the Germans, because that was pretty much all that was available for civilians to eat at the time. Turnips (and the related rutabagas) were normally saved as a food for animals. Reply Paul Freeman May 9, 2023 As always, you’ve made it a learning experience. I was going to mention All Quiet on the Western Front (a book more about comradeship than war) where the German soldiers have “turnip bread-lunch, turnip stew-supper, turnip cutlets and turnip salad”, while the Allies have tins of bully beef that are often the object of a raid. Reply C.B. Anderson May 9, 2023 I have grown turnips, rutabagas (sometimes called Swede turnips), and nearly everything else. I once cooked turnips following a recipe that called for caraway seed, and it was good. But it’s very easy to ruin turnips if cooked incorrectly. Some people like to slice them raw and eat them like radishes (to which they are botanically related) or dip them in something provided with a crudites board. I want to read a poem about garlic, or onions in general. Reply Paul Freeman May 10, 2023 Thanks for the comment, CD. I chose to write about turnips because – believe it or not – they were in the news, recently. The UK Minister of the Environment was telling the British public to quit griping about austerity and, if necessary, eat turnips. Thanks for reading. Reply Susan Jarvis Bryant May 9, 2023 Paul, I really like this beautifully crafted ode and after reading the smile-inducing wonders of the turnip in your appreciative, quirky, and educational marvel, I love the turnip even more. When I moved to Texas, I had no idea a swede was a ‘rutabaga’… and was over the moon to learn I could buy them here. A shepherd’s pie isn’t the same without diced swede and carrots. They say that everything is bigger in Texas… rutabagas are an exception. Texas rutabagas are the smallest swedes I’ve ever seen! Reply C.B. Anderson May 9, 2023 It’s probably too hot in Texas to grow a proper swede. In general, all cole crops like bright sunlight along with cool weather. And that’s a tough order. Reply Paul Freeman May 10, 2023 Thanks for your comment, Susan. It was indeed educational finding out more about turnips, which generally get a bad press and are off the culinary radar in most homes. Oh, and الف مبروك (a thousand congratulations) on your two volumes of poetry being published. Great covers and I see two of my faves, ‘Octopus’ and ‘Osprey’ are featured. Reply Joshua C. Frank May 13, 2023 Paul, I really like this—not only is it an extremely interesting choice of subject matter for a poem, but it’s also well-executed. My favorite line is, “suggestive of a drunk’s empurpled nose.” Reply Leave a Reply to Norma Pain Cancel ReplyYour email address will not be published.CommentName* Email* Website Captcha loading...In order to pass the CAPTCHA please enable JavaScript. Notify me of follow-up comments by email. Notify me of new posts by email. Δ This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.
Jeremiah Johnson May 9, 2023 Love that “drunk’s empurpled nose” This has the feel of a classic of culinary poesy! Reply
Paul Freeman May 9, 2023 Thanks for reading, Jeremiah. Originally, this was a competition entry to write about one of our humbler vegetables. Since the turnip gets a bad rep, I chose it. Reply
Paul Freeman May 9, 2023 Alas, the competition was very stiff. On the positive side, the poem was a bit of an experiment and has given me more confidence in tackling nature poems that focus on a particular animal or plant.
Margaret Coats May 9, 2023 I too enjoy simple turnips, but baked or boiled or steamed with apples they make a festive dish (even more of a “gem for gruelling times”). Reply
Paul Freeman May 9, 2023 I’ll have to try a recipe with apples now you’ve mentioned it, Margaret. Reply
Paul Freeman May 9, 2023 Glad you enjoyed it, Cynthia. Odes are great for using a less popular or made up, or experimental form. Reply
Mary Gardner May 9, 2023 Paul, your apostrophe is well-crafted, with perfect rhyme, and not a superfluous word to be found in it. You have earned my “rispetto.” Reply
Paul Freeman May 9, 2023 Thanks, Mary. Sometimes writing a poem can be frustrating, sometimes joyful and fun. This was the latter. Reply
Mary Gardner May 9, 2023 Another way to enjoy turnips: O Turnip Greens! We live down South Therefore that means You please our mouth. Though roots taste keen The real boss Is your leaves green With pepper sauce.
Paul Freeman May 9, 2023 Even more culinary suggestions. I’ll be able to write ‘The Turnip Cookbook’ at this rate. A lot of vegetables seem to have fallen out of favour once the New World veggies landed in Europe. It also seems that post First and Second World Wars, in Europe, we stopped treating certain vegetables as a staple, leaving the potato to take their place.
Roy Eugene Peterson May 9, 2023 I have not thought about turnips or rutabagas in decades! I may have to find some and try them again. The vitamins they contain was the convincing factor. Reply
Monika Cooper May 9, 2023 Yes, thank you, Paul, for raising your poetic voice on behalf of the forgotten root vegetables. Reply
Paul Freeman May 9, 2023 I imagine that with the cost of living crisis, turnips and other less sexy foods that have fallen out of favour will make a comeback. Reply
Mary Gardner July 12, 2023 In the feedlot, unicursal*, Cows went to the Manglewurzel. We, with geometric maths Made some multicursal paths. Now the cows take several ways; It adds interest to their days. *with only one route
Martin Rizley May 9, 2023 I have never been fond of turnips, but I am quite fond of your tribute to them. By praising the virtues of the turnip so eloquently, you have uprooted my former prejudices, and given me food for thought! After digesting what your have written, I may end up giving the maligned veggie a second chance! Reply
Paul Freeman May 9, 2023 I was not a fan of tomatoes until in my twenties when I got stranded in central Sudan with nothing to eat but tomatoes. Now I’m a fan. Reply
Norma Pain May 9, 2023 A fun poem on a vegetable that tastes even better when cooked and mashed up with carrots and butter. Yum! Thank you Paul for the reminder to pick up another one. Reply
Paul Freeman May 9, 2023 You’re welcome, Norma. With carrots and butter! I’ll get my son on it this week – he’s the best cook in the house. Reply
Jeff Eardley May 9, 2023 Lots of food for thought in your most amusing poem. Here in middle England they used to be called “Chonnocks” which is a great word. I haven’t tasted one since the 60’s and have no intention of starting now. Great stuff Paul!!! Reply
Paul Freeman May 9, 2023 Thanks for commenting, Jeff. Glad you liked the poem. ‘Chonnock’, ‘rutabaga’ – I’ve learned two new words for something already familiar. Reply
Joseph S. Salemi May 9, 2023 A mixture of mashed turnips and mashed potatoes was once a common side dish at Thanksgiving here in the United States. The turnips added a slightly peppery flavor to the potatoes. During World War I, the winter of 1916-17 was called the Turnip Winter (“Steckrubenwinter”) by the Germans, because that was pretty much all that was available for civilians to eat at the time. Turnips (and the related rutabagas) were normally saved as a food for animals. Reply
Paul Freeman May 9, 2023 As always, you’ve made it a learning experience. I was going to mention All Quiet on the Western Front (a book more about comradeship than war) where the German soldiers have “turnip bread-lunch, turnip stew-supper, turnip cutlets and turnip salad”, while the Allies have tins of bully beef that are often the object of a raid. Reply
C.B. Anderson May 9, 2023 I have grown turnips, rutabagas (sometimes called Swede turnips), and nearly everything else. I once cooked turnips following a recipe that called for caraway seed, and it was good. But it’s very easy to ruin turnips if cooked incorrectly. Some people like to slice them raw and eat them like radishes (to which they are botanically related) or dip them in something provided with a crudites board. I want to read a poem about garlic, or onions in general. Reply
Paul Freeman May 10, 2023 Thanks for the comment, CD. I chose to write about turnips because – believe it or not – they were in the news, recently. The UK Minister of the Environment was telling the British public to quit griping about austerity and, if necessary, eat turnips. Thanks for reading. Reply
Susan Jarvis Bryant May 9, 2023 Paul, I really like this beautifully crafted ode and after reading the smile-inducing wonders of the turnip in your appreciative, quirky, and educational marvel, I love the turnip even more. When I moved to Texas, I had no idea a swede was a ‘rutabaga’… and was over the moon to learn I could buy them here. A shepherd’s pie isn’t the same without diced swede and carrots. They say that everything is bigger in Texas… rutabagas are an exception. Texas rutabagas are the smallest swedes I’ve ever seen! Reply
C.B. Anderson May 9, 2023 It’s probably too hot in Texas to grow a proper swede. In general, all cole crops like bright sunlight along with cool weather. And that’s a tough order. Reply
Paul Freeman May 10, 2023 Thanks for your comment, Susan. It was indeed educational finding out more about turnips, which generally get a bad press and are off the culinary radar in most homes. Oh, and الف مبروك (a thousand congratulations) on your two volumes of poetry being published. Great covers and I see two of my faves, ‘Octopus’ and ‘Osprey’ are featured. Reply
Joshua C. Frank May 13, 2023 Paul, I really like this—not only is it an extremely interesting choice of subject matter for a poem, but it’s also well-executed. My favorite line is, “suggestive of a drunk’s empurpled nose.” Reply
