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Mustard

We had a snow day on Sunday. No church. No walk. (Superbowl for hubby, though – the TV wasn’t snowed in.)

I used the gift of those extra hours to tidy up my gmail and in the process came across a poetry prompt that I couldn’t resist. So I also wrote a poem.

bratwurst-235349_640

Mustard

Seeds the size of faith
ground and added to young wine
became the fiery condiment
must-ardens*

Sauce as ancient as Indus and Rome,
modern French’s, dyed paprika and turmeric,
drips from every summer hotdog
stains every childhood shirt.

Hulled or whole-grained, sophisticated mustard
mixes congenially with vinegar, wine, water
lemon juice, whiskey, beer; remains
a wholesome but tart foil to ham, chicken, cheese.

Bavarian or Dijon, sweet or hot
honeyed, spiced, fruited, or Poupon
yellow to brown this world citizen
is welcome at tables on every continent.

A jar of French’s still lives in my Canadian fridge—
faithful standby for sausages, wieners, mayonnaise
parson at the emulsification nuptials of oil and vinegar
and a spread for a 5-year-old’s favorite sandwich.

© 2017 by Violet Nesdoly (All rights reserved)

* How it came to be called “mustard”:

The first element is ultimately from Latin mustum, (“must,” young wine) – the condiment was originally prepared by making the ground seeds into a paste with must. The second element comes also from Latin ardens (hot, flaming).

Source: Wikipedia.

The post that contains the prompt: “Eating and Drinking Poems: Barbara Crooker’s ‘Ode to Olive Oil’“ quotes Barbara Crooker’s wonderful poem in full.

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Poetry Friday LogoThis post is linked to Poetry Friday, hosted today by Katy at her blog The Logonauts.

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Posted by on February 10, 2017 in Objects, Poetry Friday

 

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Success!

I did it!!! I wrote one poem a day for the whole month of April. And this time it wasn’t even hard.

I think that’s because I sat myself down at the beginning of the month and gave my lazy, self-indulgent side a lecture:

– No excuses. Don’t even think of whining or feeling sorry for yourself or telling yourself you’re out of creative energy

– This is your work this month. Priority one. Make a spot for it in your daily schedule; list it along with your other “To Do”s. You have to have something written before bed.

– Any idea is game. Use one of the April prompts or an idea of your own. It doesn’t matter.

I have purposely not shared these raw creations here for several reasons. One, most of them need more work. And too, I’m learning that it’s nice to have a stash of poems that haven’t ever seen the light of day just in case something fits with a contest or publication where there’s a “No Previous Publication” rule.

But I want to share one here with you today, just as proof that I’ve actually been working!  Here’s my poem from April 14th.

Inspiration: that day I happened to read L. L. Barkat’s  Tweetspeak Poetry post about creating and using “jealousy stacks” to write poetry.

Inspired by her idea I then pulled an old issue of Garden Wise (now known as B.C. Home and Garden) off my shelf, made a bunch of jealousy stacks (interesting turns of phrase and lovely words that I wish I had thought of) from articles in it, and finally cobbled them together into the found poem “Gardening Gurus” below.

Butchart Gardens - Victoria B.C.

A gardening guru has obviously been in charge of this plot! (Butchart Gardens – Victoria, B.C. – photo © 2015 by V. Nesdoly)

Gardening Gurus

Gardening gurus bypass pruning shears
for exuberant plantings. In a passion for blue
covet classic blue blossoms, lacecaps
spherical corymb flowerheads
felty silver-grey leaves.

Let nature work for you in whorls
nosegays, posies, floriferous crowns of myrtle
sprigs of rosemary, wheat for fertility
leafy bowers lavish and cascading
the vibrancy of summer.

The wound tar, desiccated roses
rangy growth habit, old deadheads
loppers, weed hounds and recipes for infection
are not in our gardening culture.

Our floral colony is a little summer house,
romantic haven where sage shares the bed
with airiness of lady and deer fern
moon-gated arbors, pergolas and pavers.
Rondel echoes colours of honey citrus sorbet.
Last rays of sunshine fill uncontainers
with peace and enchantment.

© 2015 by Violet Nesdoly (All rights reserved)

How did your National Poetry Month go?

P.S. Oh yes, today I start as a blogger at our Inscribe Writers blog. My first
post there is “What is poetry?” Do you agree with my conclusion?

 
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Posted by on April 30, 2015 in Found

 

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The Custodian

Custodian

The Custodian

The coffee cups we take into the sanctuary
she sees as spots to scrub from the carpet later.
On youth night she braces herself
for toilets plugged with paper towel
sinks clogged with toilet paper.
The inconspicuous, numberless door
in the hallway we’ve never really noticed—
she has the key to it
could find Pinesol, rolls of tissue
jugs of antibacterial soap and Windex
without stumbling over the industrial octopus
that splays its floppy hoses
all over the floor.
She knows who ambles in
bleary-eyed and tousle-headed
for prayer on Tuesday morning at 6:00
and on her 1:00 p.m. round remembers
to check between sofa cushions in the café
for crunched napkins and balls of plastic wrap.
On Alpha night she is there with her bucket
to clean up kitchen spills and bathroom floods.
After the funeral tea she appears out of nowhere
to deal with the  overflowing garbage.
She comes with her key anytime to unlock any door.
Always kind, smiling, cheerful helpful, willing
she is the servant of all.
She is the greatest of all!

– Violet Nesdoly (© 2013 – All Rights Reserved)

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So far my Poem-A-Day challenge  has been going well. The poem above was yesterday’s write, inspired by Robert Brewer’s Poetic Asides prompt for Day 6:

“For today’s prompt, write a poem from the perspective of a person who either works at and/or visits a place you like to visit (that’s not yourself). For instance, a fry chef at the Krusty Krab, a bouncer at a nightclub, waitress at a restaurant, etc.”

Poetry Friday LogoThis post is part of Poetry Friday, hosted today by Diane Mayr at Random Noodling.

 
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Posted by on November 7, 2013 in People, Personal, Poetry Friday, Religious

 

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