Maureen Thorson’s NaPoWriMo suggestion: “Today, I’d like to challenge you to write a poem in the form of a review. But not a review of a book or a movie of a restaurant. Instead, I challenge you to write a poetic review of something that isn’t normally reviewed. For example, your mother-in-law, the moon, or the year you were ten years old.”
Robert Lee Brewer’s Poem-a-Day suggestion: “For today's prompt, write a touch poem. For the senses, I'm thinking of touch as a hand reaching out, though it could also be a foot or just bodies pushed close like in a concert or public transportation. But that's just when thinking about the senses. . . . I'll also accept other interpretations of touch, like someone who has the winning touch in a game or has a special touch in dealing with people.”
Here's a picture of what I got for dinner at a BBQ restaurant tonight. Always on the lookout for a potential poem, I thought, what if my dinner could talk? Here's a blank verse ditty, again both prompts. Apologies to my vegetarian friends.
My Dinner Speaks
Beef brisket chunks on a bed of salad greens,
that’s me. We dinners never get to say
what we think of the diners we feed each night.
This is my review of you wielders
of knife and fork. First, this old guy, ombre
with black hair, gray mustache, and white beard:
too finicky, too focused on not getting dirty,
dabbing his lips too often with his napkin.
Second, the four people, two couples
at the next table. Probably two generations:
elderly mom and dad, son and his wife.
Young guy just talks too much, blah blah blah.
Not eating at all and the other three are just
picking at their food. What fun is that?
Third, a younger mom and dad with a kid,
probably two years old, in a high chair.
They’re eating with gusto, hard and fast with lots
of enjoyment by all three. Especially the man,
whose face is covered by tattoos, obviously
someone who takes on the world with verve and panache.
He’s the winner. He’s the one with the touch.
If it was up to me, I’d touch their lives
with huge luck. Maybe a lottery jackpot
with a million-dollar payoff. Enough to keep
them in brisket and ribs and steak for the rest of their lives.
—Draft by Vince Gotera [Do not copy or quote . . . thanks.]
Alan's poem is tangentially about food (if that's the right term). He says it could be "R-rated" . . . consider yourself suitably (and gently) warned.
P O E M R E M O V E D
while being submitted for publication.
Please come back later. The poem may
return at some time in the future.
Thank you!
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Friends, won’t you comment, please? Love to know what you’re thinking. Thanks!
Ingat, everyone. ヅ |
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2 comments:
Vince, what a great idea - the food reviewing the customers. I also like the wordplay on "ombre." Fun poem. Alan, yours was pretty darn funny - love the "scholarly" tone.
P.S. Vince, Maureen just cited your book in today's blog! Congrats! (I missed her announcement on FB in February so I emailed her to see if she might have room to cite mine too this week, but I'll understand if she can't.)
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