We're kicking off the summer season with a Poetry Potluck. At first, it was any topic, any form, but then we thought it would be fun to theme our challenge around real life potluck contributions. (For a quick history of the potluck in America, including "The Church Lady Law," see this article.)
My inspiration came from a book of poetry, and a bag of chips. For my birthday, my dad gifted me the fantastic collection, A Century of Poetry in the New Yorker, and I've been dipping into it whenever I need a poetry fix.
It shouldn't amaze me any more, but I'm still stunned when the act of reading a poem can change my day. Even if the poem at first seems simple on the page. Maybe, especially then....I'm not resisting it, or studying it, or trying to make it be something it isn't....I'm simply munching on the words.
I wrote my poem about that.
her poem
is like a bag
of chips at a potluck—
you want to scoff
at the lack of effort—
who does she think she is,
a college kid with no kitchen?
but somehow her poem—
bagged like a plump, slightly creased pillow
and tossed on the hard bench of the table
is effortlessly inviting—and
when it pops open
(before any other dish has been
stripped of its foil shield)
you pinch out the ridged wafers
in two clumps to snack on —
you know, just until the late-comers
with their farro-gorgonzola croquettes
arrive—
and her words become
the friend everyone wants
to sit next to—
the one who can champion
marshmallows in salad,
and dissect the day he died,
both with humility;
who can discuss two-letter Scrabble words
and cry-choking in the car
each with authority;
who speaks of the soaking rain yesterday
and of burnt faith today
as one and same—
of necessary anger
and ridiculous love,
each invited to this potluck—
as she passes you the bag
of chips, rolling down the corners
so you can reach in, deeply—
even as the salt
of her meaning
stings your chapped lips,
she is feeding you.
this is not luck
this is poetry.
----Sara Lewis Holmes (all rights reserved)
More poetry dishes from my Poetry Sisters (who are all friends everyone wants to sit next to):
Laura
Poetry Friday is hosted today by our own Mary Lee Hahn at A Year of Reading.
This is gorgeous, Sara. I am saving it. I also like your poem paragraph opener, about reading a poem changing your day. You never know what kind of food your spirit wants to be fed, when and where it will show up later.
ReplyDeleteOh, be still my heart! I will NEVER look at a bag of chips the same way! You got the chips right, the pot luck right ("farro-gorgonzola croquettes" tee hee!), and the gifts of poetry SO very right.
ReplyDeleteI have that very same book, and I would love a hint (poet, page number, title?) of your mentor text...pretty please?
Mary Lee, like all poets, I borrow, exaggerate, and conjure from thin air as I write. That is to say, I didn't use a mentor text---or actual images/words from another poem---instead, that morning, I opened the book to White Owl Flies Into and Out of the Field by Mary Oliver (page 456) and was so nurtured by it---like completely healed in that moment--- that I tried to capture that feeling of being fed. I made up the scoffing part...I would never scoff at MO. But she does start out simply and concretely with that title...and that owl "coming down out of the freezing sky" and the next thing you know, she's arrived at "maybe death isn't darkness, after all, but so much light wrapping itself around us--as soft as feathers--"
DeleteNot luck, but poetry. Yes! Definitely a place for potato chips in life and potlucks. xo
ReplyDeleteOH MY GOODNESS, Sara! I laughed out loud at farro gorgonzola croquettes, and then sucked in a gasp at the end. This is ... perfect.
ReplyDeleteWow!! Just brilliant, Sara!
ReplyDeleteAll that and a bag of chips! I too loved “farro-gorgonzola croquettes.” So much less inviting than that salty bag. : )
ReplyDelete...I'm not sure if farro-gorganzola croquettes are real, or if I should hope they're not. ..🤔
ReplyDeleteI adore the idea of a poem becoming the words everyone wants to sit next to. That is indeed the poetry of Mary Oliver for a lot of us. I love how this poem talks about the poem speaking knowledgeably about so many things, all the while remaining moreish and crunchy, and effortlessly inviting. May we all write like that...
- love, tanita
DeleteMunching on the words of poetry. Yes, yes, yes! This is a stunning poem. The "farro-gorgonzola croquettes" made me laugh, and the marshmallows in salad made me cringe. But this?
ReplyDeleteeven as the salt
of her meaning
stings your chapped lips,
she is feeding you.
this is not luck
this is poetry.
That is a magnificent ending.
Wow...this poem amazes me from the scoffing I would surely do to the realizing that the chips are the "friend everyone wants to sit next to." The details shared at a picnic from true life grief and joy, the plainess of it that is extraordinary. It's all so fresh, salty, delicious. I'm amazed. I hope you submit this one to the New Yorker. I think they'd take it. And, if not? Their loss!
ReplyDeleteThis: the one who can champion
ReplyDeletemarshmallows in salad,
and dissect the day he died,
both with humility;
I want that poetry book.
Love how the bag of chips becomes central to the transformative moment! Yes to poetry changing your day. This poem got me at:
ReplyDeleteyou want to scoff
at the lack of effort—
who does she think she is,
a college kid with no kitchen?
Bravo and thank you:)
“The salt of her meaning” is such a palpable line. This whole poem is brilliant. The turn to a bag of chips as a metaphor for poetry, an extended one at the whole potluck of poetry, is delicious.
ReplyDeleteI have that book! I hope that it will give me a poem like yours, chips and all. That's just beautiful, Sara.
ReplyDeletePerfect. No notes. :D (Well, maybe one note of envy at the fact that you both *describe* that poet, and you *are* that poet. xo
ReplyDeleteSara wow, this is so beautiful. "Her poem is like a bag of chips at a potluck..." what a dear metaphor that I'll be thinking of throughout the days ahead. "the friend everyone wants to sit by" "the salt on chapped lips" You have fed us. Thank you.
ReplyDelete