Kidlitosphere Progressive Poem Finished

Well, the poem is finally complete and I have to say that it was so much fun to be a part of it. I followed it diligently each day as it was formed and shaped by a new writer. I got to meet some really great writers and people that love poetry as much as I do.

The line I contributed was near the beginning and so the poem was in it's infancy when it came here to the Swaggers. But I'm happy to report that the poem has grown into a piece worthy of standing on its own. I enjoyed the way it meandered. At times I was anxious about how it would wind back. There is a reference to the Titanic that was added on the anniversary of it's sinking. There is magic and mystery. And I was delighted to see the new line added each day.

If you are reading this,                                                            

you must be hungry.

Kick off your silver slippers,

come sit with us a spell.

A hanky, here, now dry your tears

and fill your glass with wine.

Now, pour. The parchment has secrets,

smells of a Moroccan market spill-out.

You have come to the right place, just breathe in.

Honey, mint, cinnamon, sorrow. Now, breathe out

last week’s dreams. Take a wish from the jar.

Inside, deep inside, is the answer…

Unfold it, and let us riddle it together,

…Strains of a waltz. How do frozen fingers play?

How do fennel, ginger, saffron blend in the tagine?

Like broken strangers bound by time, they sisterdance…

their veils of sorrow encircle, embrace.

Feed your heart with waltzes and spices.

Feed your soul with wine and dreams.

Humble dust of coriander scents your feet, coaxing

seascapes, crystal sighs and moonshine from your melody.

Beware of dangers along the path of truth

and beware, my friend, of too much bewaring–

strong hands cushion you, sweet scents surround you—now leap

without looking, guided by trust. And when you land

on silver-tipped toes, buoyed by joy– you’ll know

you are amazing, you are love, you are poetry—

here, you rest.

Muse. Up ahead, stepping stones speckle the stream, sturdy now.

May your words roar against the banks, your life a flood of dreams.

I am thankful to Irene Latham for hosting and adding the beginning and final lines of the poem. I hope to do it again next year. And maybe I can even convince the Swaggers to do one of our own.

Please enjoy and find a little time for poetry in each day.

Cheers,
Regina Gort