Just watched a CBC documentary by Sook-Yin Lee called Where Have All the Poets Gone. If you've got an hour and are curious about a new take on poetry in Canada today, give it a look.
Today's NaPoWriMo prompt is to play with seeds. Names of heirloom seeds, to be precise. Which got me Googling, and next thing I knew I was looking up old names for grass in the 60's and 70's! (Bubba Kush, Jack Herer, AK-47, Kali Mist, Lavender, Headband, Skunkberry, Purple Haze, Chocolope, Maui Wowie, Bubblegum, OG Ghost Train Haze, Hashplant, Chem ’04, Big Bud the Goo...)
I'm also remembering a similar prompt from a year or two ago this month, to do with sea shells.
So today's prompt goes like this: "Today, I challenge you to spend some time looking at the names of heirloom plants, and write a poem that takes its inspiration from, or incorporates the name of, one or more of these garden rarities. To help you out, here are links to the Southern Exposure Seed Exchange and the Baker Creek Seed Company.
And, back to heirloom seeds that are food-related, how about Chantenay Red Core or Cosmic Purple or Oxheart carrots, Egyptian Walking onions, Aji Dulce Spice peppers, Ali Baba or Amish Moon and Stars Watermelon, Black Brandywine tomatoes, Bloody Butcher Dent corn, Bull's Blood beet, and I could go on but that won't get a poem written, will it?
What to do...what to do...
AN OXHEART KIND OF LOVE
The bloody butcher put a dent
in the box with the corn.
Said he didn't, but I called bull
and his face went beet red
as he threw me out of the store,
corn trailing behind me like I was Gretel.
Back home, I put on Walk Like An Egyptian,
smoked a little Cosmic Purple,
sipped Black Brandywine
and danced around the kitchen,
putting together a cornless meal
to go with the oxheart entrée,
weaving to and fro
— a walking bangle-fest I was —
until the guy upstairs came down
to see what I was up to,
his Aji Dulce Spice aftershave
mingling agreeably with the smell of my cuisine.
Thick as Ali Baba's thieves we were
after that night when we cooked something up
under the Amish moon and stars.
And the butcher relented,
felt bad about the dent,
gave us free corn until it was finished for the year.
And here's a shot of my desk, and yes, there's tequila in that glass! Now to go have dinner somewhere (I cooked last night so tonight we're going out) and then I'll tackle the very weird Found Poem prompt. Something about a song, so stay tuned!