It’s the third Thursday of the month which means it is time to join Bonny and friends for a bit of poetry! I read poetry every day… I listen to a poetry podcast weekdays… and in general, poetry has become a vital part of my daily life. Last year, I settled in with Poetry of Presence II and as you can see, the book is very well loved. I have tagged pages, written notes on pages, and noted poems that I shared here on this blog. When I finished the book, I immediately began the first anthology of poems, Poetry of Presence. I really love the poems that Phyllis Cole-Dai and Ruby R. Wilson gathered together in their anthologies. I am only a few pages in to their first book, but you can see that I have already “tagged” some poems!
I love the dedication:
“to the poets who help us be mindful in a world that has urgent need of presence
Amen! I give thanks daily for poets… they absolutely improve my days!
The poem I am sharing today is the invitation poem that Phyllis Cole-Dai has set at the beginning of the anthology. It is simply perfection… because, for me, poetry is just this delightful… a feast for me… and you!
On How to Pick and Eat Poems
by Phillis Cole-Dai
Stop whatever it is you’re doing.
Come down from the attic.
Grab a bucket or basket and head for light.
That’s where the best poems grow, and in the dappled dark.
Go slow. Watch out for thorns and bears.
When you find a good bush, bow
to it, or take off your shoes.
Pluck. This poem. That poem. Any poem.
It should slip off the stem easy, just a little tickle.
No need to sniff first, judge the color, test the firmness—
you can only know it’s ripe if you taste.
So put a poem upon your lips. Chew its pulp.
Let its juice spill over your tongue.
Let your reading of it teach you
what sort of creature you are
and the nature of the ground you walk upon.
Bring your whole life out loud to this one poem.
Eating one poem can save you, if you’re hungry enough.
Take companions poem-picking when you can.
Visit wild and lovely and forgotten places, broken
and hidden and walled up spaces. Reach into brambles,
stain your skin, mash words against your teeth, for love.
And always leave some poems within easy reach for
the next picker, in kinship with the unknown.
If ever you carry away more poems that you need,
go on home to your kitchen, and make good jam.
Don’t be in a rush, they’re sure to keep.
Some will even taste better with age,
a rich batch of preserves.
Store up jars and jars of jam. Plenty for friends.
Plenty for the long, howling winter. Plenty for strangers.
Plenty for all the bread in this broken world.
On How to Pick and Eat Poems © 2017 Phyllis Cole-Dai.
I am happy to share a poem as Bonny gathers up some poetry. And you are welcome to join us!
See you all back here next week!
This is wonderful! I love the idea of poems as something you can grow, harvest, and consume. And then there’s this line: “Eating one poem can save you, if you’re hungry enough.” Yes, poems can sustain us!
My copies of both Poetry of Presence anthologies are just a mess of bookmarks and notations and post-it notes and turned-down corners. They are definitely among my favorite poetry volumes! And that opening poem is such a great one . . . Enjoy your daily poetry breaks!
This poem is absolutely wonderful and so perfect. That same line that Sarah noted is true for me today. I’m ordering that book so I can make jars and jars of jam. Thanks for bringing us poem-picking with you!
Store up jars and jars of jam. Plenty for friends.
Plenty for the long, howling winter. Plenty for strangers.
Plenty for all the bread in this broken world.
Beautiful — I’ve just finished making this year’s huckleberry jam. Each jar is a kind of poem, a flavor talisman from the particular day in the mountains we picked the berries. Maybe I need to be putting up a few more poems.
This poem reminds me of my dad who makes tons of jam and gives most of it away to me and my sister. I am never without!!