Poetry Friday: Poetry Potluck

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): 

Liz

Tanita

Laura

Mary Lee

Tricia

Poetry Friday is hosted today by our own Mary Lee Hahn at A Year of Reading. 

Bringing Biscuits to the Poetry Potluck

All month, Jama's hosting a Poetry Potluck at her blog, alphabet soup. I've been to several potlucks in my life, and I love 'em. Especially when someone brings deviled eggs, which I cherish eating but hate to make. I love the hodge-podge of my plate after I load it up; the way the sweetness of the cherry jello with marshmallows mixes into the tang of the chopped pork barbecue; the way the stiff bruschetta with olive tapenade cozies up to the puffy pigs-in-a-blanket; the way no one looks at you funny if you sample three kinds of pie and that homemade chocolate truffle-thingie dunked in powdered sugar.

Today, it's my turn to bring a dish and a poem to Jama's potluck. The thing about Jama, though, is whatever you bring---even humble biscuits---she turns it into a feast. She sets a beautiful table and arranges your offering with such grace and style and humor and love that it becomes something that feeds even you, the bringer. Thank you, Jama.

Here's the link to my poem, my recipe, and my "biscuit boys." Don't miss the entries to the Poetry Potluck so far, and don't leave without subscribing to alphabet soup. Why pass up a chance to be fed by Jama every single day?