|This is a potato. AKA a spud.|
Happy Poetry Friday, friends! Today I have an original poem to share with you. It's the product of pure fun: two friends from Vermont College of Fine Arts (Sarah Ellis and Daphne Kalmar - both brilliant, both hugely talented, both hilarious) and I have been writing poems in response to challenges each of us set. My latest challenge to them was to write a poem about potatoes (yes, our prompts and topics are a bit idiosyncratic....) since potatoes take a starring role at both my Thanksgiving and Christmas dinner tables. Mashed potatoes with turkey and gravy, scalloped potatoes with a Christmas ham. Is there any way potatoes can be fixed that does not result in something scrumptious?
|These are potatoes, mashed, with gravy. AKA yummmm.|
|This is a ham. AKA a good excuse for a side of little spuds.|
In my poem, I've added in some butter. Thank all the gods on Olympus for potatoes and butter! Here is my poem:
A Spuds and Butter Song
Butter and spuds, spuds and butter -
thanks to the cow, thanks to her udder,
thanks to the dirt where the spud eyes grow,
thanks to the farmer who, row after row,
day by day, season by season,
tends the spuds and gives us a reason
to love the harvest as well as the feast.
Bless us all, both man and beast,
bless the spuds, for which I can utter:
My contributions to Poetry Friday have been sporadic lately, but I'm busy writing poetry again, so all is well. I'll contribute again before Christmas rolls around; meanwhile, put the word December in your mouth and roll it around with your tongue for awhile - brrrrrrrrr, right? And isn't it nice how the word "winter" ends with that rrrrrrrr, too? Decembrrrrrrrr! Winterrrrrrrrr!!! You can almost taste the hot mulled ciderrrrrrr.
Today's Poetry Friday round-up is being hosted by Mary Lee Hahn, PF-organizer extraordinaire, at A YEAR OF READING. Head over there to see what other people have posted.