L.L. here, with Random Acts of Poetry. Wondering what’s next. Is it ever like that for you?
Maybe you play an awesome game of chess and you think, “Will I ever do it again?” Or perhaps you make a gorgeous apple pie and wonder if you’ll ever get the crust quite like that in the future. If you are a writer, you might have tackled the blank page fabulously in the past, but today you feel terrorized by the emptiness of a new slate.
When I wrote Stone Crossings: Finding Grace in Hard and Hidden Places, I couldn’t imagine what might come next. But an idea came. Now I just spent an intense time putting together a poetry collection with International Arts Movement, and I’m afraid again. What kind of poetry could I possibly write from here on in?
Maybe you think I’m kidding or being coy. I’m not. The blank page, prose or poetry, can be paralyzing for me. Sure, I should know better by now. Words always come eventually. Themes arise.
At our poetry parties with @tspoetry, we don’t wait for the abatement of fear. We dive right in to whatever prompt is put before us. During our last party, @tspoetry treated us to the characteristics and history of certain herbs, spices, fruits and veggies. It was a delight to see the depth of what our tweetpoets did with the basic info provided. Some of you joined the challenge after the party too and cooked up delicious fare. Here’s a sampler, party and post-party…
Excerpt of Kelly’s When I Grow Old
I want not to die
before breath slows – and stops,
leaving flesh wrapped in allspice,
red earth-petals peeled, hibiscus layer of
fallen dust lingering sweet as kisses for
those I have loved alive…
Excerpt of Maureen’s Love Uses Spices and Herbs
Almonds like the shape
of your eyes
intoxicate;
equally as well, cinnamon,
the color of your eyes
that bewitch.
Excerpt of nAncY’s fragrance
rolling
between finger
and thumb
releasing
the pleasant
fragrance
of thyme
Excerpt of Jennifer’s Bread…
I didn’t eat Bread
stale in my mouth
like crackers that left my tongue thick
I feasted on the world
Excerpt of Monica’s The Next Time Martha Had Jesus Over
Chick peas boiled to yielding
softness, perfect fatness pressed
from olives, essence pressed
from garlic,
cloves of garlic,
lemon’s juices…
ALL RAP PARTICIPANTS:
Monica’s knowing
A Simple Country Girl’s She may be stumbling
Glynn’s Apple Pie, Late Harvest
Cindy’s An Extra… Ordinary… Life
Jennifer’s Bread…
nAncY’s fragrance
Maureen’s Love Uses Spices and Herbs
Kelly’s When I Grow Old
Eric’s Form of a Poem
LL’s Frilly skirted chanterelle…
Marcus’s Serendipity
Jim’s I can feel it, honest
Join us here in the Culture Section, the week after Thanksgiving, with Sam Van Eman. (Yup, we’re taking time off to enjoy a vacation.) RAP will resume the week after that.
Bread photo by nAncY. Used with permission. Post written by L.L. Barkat.
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Oh cool – I’m in the post today! Thank you! Seriously, this is one of my favorite poems, ever. My husband (who is not a poet) read it last night and just couldn’t get over it. He loved it. Made my yesterday. This is a lovely way to start today!
I liked the allspice especially.
L.L., Thank you for including me in the shout-out. Seeing it is first thing in the morning like seeing the sun come out again (which, here in Arlington, it just did, after long, cold, rainy, fog-filled days).
There’s a little surprise for you, too, this morning. Check my place.
Maureen, you’re a sweetheart! Glad this was sun on a post-rainy day.
Thanks for including me, LL.
But of course! We all needed a little Friday serendipity.
She stares at white paper,
Unsure, a bit tentative
At first.
And then she finds,
Or stumbles upon,
A stone to cross,
A stone to turn
Inside out.
Thanks for including me in a great bunch!
Glynn, this is the second poem someone’s written me today. I feel so DELIGHTED! nAncY made me laugh, now you make me sigh… and both of you give me the sweet warmth of friendship. A blessing indeed.
Eric, why yes. So glad to see you writing poetry again. More, more…
I always look forward to these posts.
Visiting here is like being invited inside a world whose windows I’ve peered through so often, and finding the people as real and alive as I’ve always imagined. It’s warming to see poetry touched and handled, tasted and enjoyed by someone other than myself. It makes the theory of groups of friends immersed in beautiful words, melted and pooled, become real. And I no longer feel alone.
ok
idea #1.
a book called “second helpings”.
a book made by poetry friends as a group project.
cheap and self published on a copy machine or something.
a poetry book about food, that has some time tested family recipes and good photos.
Okay, here’s something funny. This post was listed as the previous post under the comments for our Thanksgiving reflections post. Imagine what I thought when I read,
“Fear of Seconds”.
Myself? I love me some leftovers.
I was thinkin’ the same exact thing!