npm travel journal 11: progressive poem in rockville, md

I'm coming to you today from another geographically nearby destination, The Opposite of Indifference.  This is the blog of Tabatha Yeatts, and I stopped in to catch up with the progression of the 2014 Kidlitosphere Progressive Poem.  This project invites one poet to add a line for each day in April, until a poem is completed on April 30.  The project is organized by Irene Latham and began this year with Charles Waters's line,
"Sitting on a rock, airing out my feelings to the universe..."

We're all very interested this year that the poem has gone rhyming!  In previous years I think perhaps no one thought that a "groupthink" poem could sustain that, but so far this year it's gone well--initiated by Joy Acey's second line,
"Acting like a peacock, only making matters that much worse..."

The poem continues:
"Should I trumpet like an elephant emoting to the moon,
Or just ignore the warnings written in the rune?
Those stars can’t seal my future; it’s not inscribed in stone.
The possibilities are endless! Who could have known?
Gathering courage, spiral like an eagle after prey
Then gird my wings for whirlwind gales in realms far, far away.
But, hold it! Let's get practical! What's needed before I go?"

Yesterday the poem came for its 10th line to Tabatha:
 "Time to be tactical--I'll ask my friends what I should stow."

She comments interestingly on some choices that lay before her.  I, too, would have had the urge to start a list of essentials for the proposed journey of self-discovery.  But her completion of the couplet includes not just the expected end rhyme (go/stow) but also a rather pleasing internal rhyme--practical/tactical!  Tabatha also introduces the existence of advising friends for the speaker, and that unleashes a LOT of possibilities going forward in the poem.


I also can't help thinking of the many unlikely and yet tactically practical items stowed in the knapsack of Elmer Elevator in My Father's Dragon--now there's an Imaginary Places poem calling to be written!  Tabatha's other project this month is The Directory of Imaginary Poems, a collection of poems about places that are real only in our imaginations, usually thanks to literature.

There's always something unexpected going on at Tabatha's blog, and you can follow the 2014 Progressive Poem again today at Write Time with Linda.  The general Poetry Friday roundup is with Michelle at Today's Little Ditty.

Bamboozle your feet with humble dusts of coriander

It's my turn to add to the Progressive Poem launched by Irene on April 1, a prospect which is both thrilling and threatening.  To Lori, who wrote the last line and passed the poem to me, claiming to be out of her league, I say "Nay!"  You followed on Amy's line by choosing to employ that workhorse of poetic technique, repetition, and you made it graceful by returning to wine (which had not been partnered so closely with waltzes yet) and dreams.  Lovely.

I must admit I've had a powerful urge to add chocolate to the mix of wine and spices, waltzes and dreams.  Is it just me, or does anyone else see chunks of chocolate all lined up and ready to be chomped in our ProgPo badge???

But I resisted the chocolate, because the circle of our beautiful and mysterious poem seems to be turning back toward its beginning (and this is Line 20, after all.)  We who invited a wanderer in silver slippers to sit for a spell have offered comfort and nourishment, and now it's time for that wanderer to join the dance, for the music to quicken and for joy to overtake sorrow.

I feel also like the poem is ready for a little grounding in the concrete, and yet who would want to disturb the gently wafting spirituality in the air?  So I've tried to ease us towards a livelier pace without breaking the mood--which is why, I explained to my 13-year-old, the word "bamboozled" could not be included in Line 20, despite her energetic and cogent arguments.  I have suggested that she and Ruth's daughter, of "Suddenly, Ninjas!", should get together for their own partner poem project.

Now that I have completed my overthinking ritual, here's the poem.
**********************************

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?
Like broken strangers bound by time, they sisterdance...
their veils of sorrow encircle, embrace.

Feed your heart with waltzes and spices.
Feed your soul with wine and dreams.
Humble dust of coriander scents your feet, coaxing

**************************
One of my well-read daughter's critiques was about my use of the word "humble."  How can coriander be humble, she asked, and if you're trying to be more concrete, isn't personifying a spice taking you in the wrong direction?  I realized that she understood the meaning of humble only in relation to a person's station or modesty.  I explained that humble can also describe a thing, meaning plain and simple, unpretentious, and as I explained, I remembered how I learned "humble" long ago, and it made me smile.

Charlotte: HUMBLE? Humble has two meanings. It means NOT PROUD and it means LOW TO THE GROUND. That's Wilbur all over. He's not proud and he is near the ground.

Then I got concerned, because my UU daughter seems to have missed her opportunity to learn something about humble from a certain humble stable in Bethlehem.

A final note:  I adore coriander, the dried and ground seeds of the plant we commonly call cilantro, and if our wanderer has any digestive discomfort after the delicious tagine, a little coriander tea should help.

On to you, Myra--I hope my humble addition gives you something to run with!  Poetry Friday is hosted today by Diane at Random Noodling.  See you there...