14th October, 2015. 3:30pm
Writing 201: Poetry, Day 8: Flavor, Elegy, Enumeratio
Make today’s poem about one flavor and why it matters to you. (Feel like addressing multiple flavors? Go for it!)
Today’s form: elegy
Today’s device: enumeratio
It’s confusing how, today, the assignment is all about flavor and enumeratio. That’s actually not that hard to do. But elegy? Really?
I did some more digging as to what this poetry form is all about and found out that elegy began as an ancient Greek metrical form and is traditionally written in response to the death of a person or group. However, in our assignment, it also says that just because this particular poetry form speaks about death, something that is gone forever, we can also approach our work as a celebration of something. So, in line with this, I decided to go with the former. With today’s prompt and device, what’s more challenging that writing about it in a way that’s depressing, right?
Ingredients on the table, I’m ready to be nibble,
Onions, garlic, red bell peppers and tomatoes,
ground pork, ground beef, spaghetti sauce, and pasta in kilos,
all but one remains stable.
I chopped as I await the pasta to be cooked
Wondering if there’s anything I overlooked.
I chopped and minced and stirred and boiled
Trying so hard not to get roiled.
As the sauce simmer, a thought lingers
If the taste would be the same as my sister’s.
We used to do it together every Saturday morning
but now my heart is definitely grieving.
Opening the pan I smelled of sauces
trying to figure out my hits and misses.
Should I add more salt or pepper or maybe some red wine or vodka
then I realized, “no, what’s missing is in California.”
I spooned the sauce into my pasta-filled plate
Sprinkling Parmesan that I grate
As the fork-filled sauce fills my tongue
My cellular phone suddenly rung.
Love that’s the secret ingredient,
which is exactly what is currently absent.
About the concept:
For today’s assignment, I decided to write about how me and my sister used to cook together every weekend. Now that she’s in another country, I can’t do it anymore, since I’m an idiot in the kitchen. I do know how to fry and all that basic stuff, but I always play Sous Chef, assisting my sister as she does her thing in the cooker.
I know that today’s prompt says “flavor” but I chose instead to write about the lack of, relating it how things are now that me and my sister are a thousand miles apart. It just doesn’t taste the same anymore.
I also wrote about this because I’ve been planning to cook our version of spaghetti soon. I already have some of the ingredients, but there’s a part of me that doesn’t want to start, since the Chef is, as what the poem says, in California.