My Brain and Poetry
As I get older and wiser,
ideas must marinate on my brain.
Your poetry, perhaps, eludes
gentle ministrations. It must
simmer in its own juices
to develop its full flavor.
Never pan fry a great poem;
like steak, let it broil
or braise to perfection.
Leave it to redistribute
else its flavorful moistness
disappears with the first bite.
Savor it; allow it to breathe.
Sip your poetry slowly
from fluted stemware. Inhale
the essence of the bouquet.
Make an occasion of it;
experience it fully.
ideas must marinate on my brain.
Your poetry, perhaps, eludes
gentle ministrations. It must
simmer in its own juices
to develop its full flavor.
Never pan fry a great poem;
like steak, let it broil
or braise to perfection.
Leave it to redistribute
else its flavorful moistness
disappears with the first bite.
Savor it; allow it to breathe.
Sip your poetry slowly
from fluted stemware. Inhale
the essence of the bouquet.
Make an occasion of it;
experience it fully.
posted by Vickie at 7:58 PM
2 Comments:
oooh V!
This is one people need to take to heart. Too many want instant gratification. And now I want a steak...
This one rather goes with Linger that I wrote in January. When I told you the other day about marinating on my brain, I had to do something with that line. Why is it that cooking always creeps in to my writing?
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