1 Irene at Live Your Poem
2 Doraine at Dori Reads
3 Jeannine at View from a Window Seat
4 Robyn at Read, Write, Howl
5 Susan at Susan Taylor Brown
6 Mary Lee at A Year of Reading
9 Gina at Swagger
Writer's
Writer's
10 Julie at The Drift Record
11 Kate at Book Aunt
12 Anastasia Suen at Booktalking
13 Tabatha at The Opposite of Indifference
14 Diane at Random Noodling
15 Ruth at There is No Such Thing as a Godforsaken Town
16 Natalie at Wading Through Words
17 Tara at A Teaching Life
18 Amy at The Poem Farm
19 Lori at Habitual Rhymer
20 Heidi at My Juicy Little Universe
21 Myra at Gathering Books
22 Pat at Writer on a Horse
23 Miranda at Miranda Paul Books
24 Linda at TeacherDance
25 Greg at Gotta Book
26 Renee at No Water River
27 Linda at Write Time
28 Caroline at Caroline by Line
29 Sheri at Sheri Doyle
30 Irene at Live Your Poem
Look at the company I'm joining as I add my line today to the progressive poem! I'm honored to be included. I've enjoyed watching the poem develop, and anticipated my day with excitement but also fear. I asked my family for advice, and they weren't much help. My daughter's suggestion was "Suddenly, Ninjas!" The conversation deteriorated from there.
As I read and reread what is in the poem so far, I see a theme of togetherness, a group. Maybe it's because the poem is a collaborative effort that I'm thinking that way, but look: "Sit with us." "Let's riddle it together." The drying of tears and sharing of wine (filling, then pouring) are not done in solitude. We're figuring out secrets in a little huddle, not by ourselves. And the frozen fingers are those of the band, playing together, not a soloist. So my line continues in that vein. I added a question to the riddle, going back to Morocco and the spices. A tagine, I learned, is both the cookware and the stew. (It's two syllables, and the g is soft.) You can read more about it here.
But I'm talking too much. I do that when I'm nervous. Here's the poem. (Hope you like it hope you like it hope you like it!)
If you are reading this
you must be hungry
Kick off your silver slippers
Come sit with us a spell
A hanky, here, now dry your tears
And fill your glass with wine
Now, pour. The parchment has secrets
Smells of a Moroccan market spill out.
You have come to the right place, just breathe in.
Honey, mint, cinnamon, sorrow. Now, breathe out
last week’s dreams. Take a wish from the jar.
Inside, deep inside, is the answer…
Unfold it, and let us riddle it together,
...Strains of a waltz. How do frozen fingers play?
How do fennel, ginger, saffron blend in the tagine?
28 Caroline at Caroline by Line
29 Sheri at Sheri Doyle
30 Irene at Live Your Poem
Look at the company I'm joining as I add my line today to the progressive poem! I'm honored to be included. I've enjoyed watching the poem develop, and anticipated my day with excitement but also fear. I asked my family for advice, and they weren't much help. My daughter's suggestion was "Suddenly, Ninjas!" The conversation deteriorated from there.
As I read and reread what is in the poem so far, I see a theme of togetherness, a group. Maybe it's because the poem is a collaborative effort that I'm thinking that way, but look: "Sit with us." "Let's riddle it together." The drying of tears and sharing of wine (filling, then pouring) are not done in solitude. We're figuring out secrets in a little huddle, not by ourselves. And the frozen fingers are those of the band, playing together, not a soloist. So my line continues in that vein. I added a question to the riddle, going back to Morocco and the spices. A tagine, I learned, is both the cookware and the stew. (It's two syllables, and the g is soft.) You can read more about it here.
But I'm talking too much. I do that when I'm nervous. Here's the poem. (Hope you like it hope you like it hope you like it!)
If you are reading this
you must be hungry
Kick off your silver slippers
Come sit with us a spell
A hanky, here, now dry your tears
And fill your glass with wine
Now, pour. The parchment has secrets
Smells of a Moroccan market spill out.
You have come to the right place, just breathe in.
Honey, mint, cinnamon, sorrow. Now, breathe out
last week’s dreams. Take a wish from the jar.
Inside, deep inside, is the answer…
Unfold it, and let us riddle it together,
...Strains of a waltz. How do frozen fingers play?
How do fennel, ginger, saffron blend in the tagine?
Photo source and link to recipe
11 comments:
Love it!
Oooh! Nice sensory detail. And YES to questions in poems. I've always liked that. Well played, Ruth! Thanks so much! (btw, "Suddenly, ninjas!' cracked me up :)
At this point, this poem terrifies me! I am ALL FOR "Suddenly, ninjas!" please!
"Suddenly, Ninjas!" What a great line! But yours is better--I think the spices are my favorite part of this poem so far.
P.S. Forgot to say, I also really liked your thoughts on the theme of togetherness.
Tangine? I've never had it, maybe it's time! Who knows, maybe the band shared a tagine before their last "performance."
Mmmm... yep, love those sensory details. [And Renee's call for the Ninjas cracks me up! ;0) ]
Lovely thoughts in your commentary, too.
This poem smells so good that I want to eat it. And I, too, loved reading your thoughts about this process. (I also feel nervous!) Thank you for bringing back that market! a. ps - Your daughter made me laugh out loud!
Sorry I'm so late to reply, Ruth. What a line & is it the blending of those tastes, or of the group that you described? Love that part about the tagine, & of the ninjas. Tell your daughter they can appear another day!
Lovely! I like where you took (pointed?) the poem.
You could have taken the iambic pentameter line that my son & a friend came up with - I think I told you this one before. "A ninja ninja ninja ninja duck." (a ninja ninja ninja ninja spice? tear? something one syllable :^)
This makes me very hungry. :-)
Off to get caught up on the rest!
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