Color. What is your favorite color in a poem?

A bright hue or subdued? Perhaps, matte? Does it depend upon the mood of the hearer? Definitely, the emotional disposition of the poet comes to play.



Food is a palette of light and ensuing color. No one sees precisely the same. Nor tastes.

Bouts Rimes. Is poetry a game of rhyme and syllable?

Ah, how the French sport. Turning poetry into game and contest. In a parlor, sort of way. Unlike a slam. Both valuable.


Cooking with celebrity chefs is pure slamming,isn't it. Knives ready: go!

Beat. What did the Beats do to beat?

Beat it, of course. Expanded it to conversation and condensed and made it howl raggedly so.


Beets, how I love them. Roasted and drizzled with olive oil. Adding blue cheese, walnuts, tarragon or basil. Twist of pepper. All manner of beets, too. Once in a New Orleans Restaurant (Bayona?) I feasted on a trio of beets. A beet rose w/blue cheese. Memory is a taste bud.

Bar. Is that the poetic answer to single or double but never plural?

One separates feet and double ensures a modest snooze.



Applied to neighborhood and liquids, bar is never singular. Perhaps, consecutive is apt to crawl into the imagination.

Arsis. To stress or to unstress. Is that the query?

The answer depends upon whether you are Greek or English. Those who wish to speak Latin will side with the English, I am told. The larger question is, how much stress can a poem handle?


Stressed food? Does chopping, blending, mixing, roasting, baking, boiling cause stress in food. What of the microwave? Come to think of it, I recently heard poems which have, in retrospect, been overly nuked.

Amphibrach. Is the rare in English, worthy of the quest?

How is a trinity of syllables like the holy grail? At the end, was the journey worthwhile: that relationship to syllable and silence?


With global markets & shifting population, the once exotic/unknown is now simply pricey. The definition of the ripe is under scrutiny. Is frozen corn, corn? Are tomatoes with little or no taste, tomatoes? This food curmudgeon wants to know.

Alliteration. Does alliteration seduce a poem?

Or shall it be said, poet? With either poem or poet, is thought derailed? Of course, sound moves to a different track.



Food and alliteration, you ask. Of course, on the color plane. Observe cherries and apricots with avocado and blue cheese on romaine. Add walnuts and sliced Persian cucumbers, carrots. Crunch is a subset of alliteration. Ponder the carrot. Crunch and carrot being on point.

Telestich. When is a poem's stanza not forming another?

Beginning and ending. Sounds beget sounds; we label these words. They beget.


We label tastes in cooking. Have our favorites. Piling (imposing?) one flavor on another. We declare our new favorite: Persian cucumber

w/:
smoked salmon, creme fraiche or
radishes, oranges, olives or
apple & Irish cheddar or
tomatoes, snap peas, almonds or
more tomatoes, hummus, tahini

Truncation. Is truncation the underlying tool of a minimal poem?

Things that should be there can go missing in a poem. Equals confusion. Edits of prose structure can lead to the minimal style of poetry. Petite eloquence. Petite starkness. Echoes across ravine.



When food is truncated is that the equivalent to snacking? Or, trail mix?

Versification. How is versification like cooking?

Blending sound & color, the result can be tasted.


When is a meal complete? When the proper balance of ripe, simple, color, savory achieved. And company to accommodate. Let's toast.

Plurisignation. Can there be but one meaning to a poem?

What do words love more than to mean? To live by meaning. And to multiply.



Leftovers mean much & many things differently (all tongues being different as signature and snowflake). How they multiply a meal.

Pleonasm. How do you identify excessive words in a poem?

Perhaps, the smile was on the face of the poet while she edited the words. Words, of course, are not restricted to the page -- excessive though they may be. In particular, airborne words are cited as carriers of the excessive gene. Often. Frequently.

Can silence in a poem be considered as pleonasm?


In cooking, cream & butter & creme fraiche can be dabbling in pleonasm. Perhaps, too much of a good thing. Isn't.

Sigmatism. How many sibilances are too many in a poem?

Seriously, can this be quantified, per line? Is it to be determined by the mouth of the poem; the ear of the hearer? And if too many be so, what is the outcome?



Can a dish contain too many heirloom tomatoes? Of course, at their peak of ripe.

Virelay? Do any poets writing in virelay come to mind?

No. Not even in French.


Sounds like a sophisticated sauce for fish. Requiring attention in its preparation. A tad of cream. Most likely appointed with fresh tarragon.

Epodic. What can be assumed from a poet who writes in an epodic style?

Takes the middle road? Playing safe with rhythm? Or perhaps, indecisive? Wants it all?


When the cook makes a salad by slicing the radishes lengthwise and chopping the Persian cucumbers in small bites, is she preparing food with epodic flare?


Breakfast salad (fashioned in an epodic manner)

Persian cucumbers
largish radishes
honey tangerines
blue cheese
almonds
pepper
olive oil
fresh herb of choice


An aside: if you have long legs, will your stride reflect such? If you be a poet with long legs, will you avoid writing short lines?

Rhapsode. Does each poem long for a rhapsode?

If a poem is not vocalized, is it a poem in the full measure?


If a meal is not consumed (perhaps, only photographed) has it lived up to it's full measure? If the picnic had gone uneaten?

smoked salmon w/roasted asparagus & honey mangoes & avocado
pita & tahini & hummus & tomatoes & carrots
roasted Brussels Sprouts
Persian cucumbers, radishes (unfortunately, the olives left on the counter)


Now, think of a publisher as one who rhapsodes? And perhaps, she cooks, too?