When I first heard the word etheree, I thought it was an old-fashioned name, the kind given to a girl who shucks peas on a weathered porch, with a Bowie knife strapped to her ankle, in case a rattlesnake gets to rattlin', or a rancher gets to raunchin'. Surely it wasn't a form of poetry, as my Poetry Sisters claimed?
I found out it was, indeed, both. Turns out that the Arkansas poet, Etheree Taylor Armstrong, invented a poetic shape in which each line has one more syllable than the one before, and while she was hardly famous, the form named after her has a growing following. Apparently, many people like it for its simplicity.
I kind of hate simplicity. It's darn hard to pull off. In fact, I couldn't pull it off. I had to resort to word play. Lots and lots of word play. (Old ee cummings may still have a grip on me.)
Anyhow, the poem was inspired by my mint tea, informed by some judicious Googling of the astonishing varieties of mint, and ultimately, built around this simple admonition to would-be mint growers that was stark in its advice:
Different varieties of mint should be planted far away from each other. On opposite sides of the garden, if possible.
Now there was a simple fact I could use.
Sedition
Mint
warning:
tendrils left
un-quarantwined
can crosspollispear
til, oh! calaminty--
licoricebasilpepper!
scharp-scented, increeping vaders
brandnewishing fresh varietrials
demand mint conditions: no leaf unturned.
---Sara Lewis Holmes (all rights reserved)
Please see Miss Rumphius' blog for a much more considered definition of the form.
My Poetry Sisters' etherees are here:
Liz
Tanita
Andi
Kelly
Tricia
Laura
Poetry Friday is hosted today by Heidi at My Juicy Little Universe.
