Half Way Through the Progressive Poem

April 15 and it is my turn to supply a line for Irene Latham's challenge to group-write an epic Progressive Poem each April!

Woo-hoo!
But first...

I wrote these pre-poem thoughts, before I even read the first line. I thought I'd jot down what I thought I might/could/should do with the line no matter what the topic or event since it would be in the MIDDLE of the poem: 

• Wouldn’t it be fun to find a single word you could repeat in the line like an interruption?
• Maybe do a rat-a-tat-tat sound, or introduce an unusual sound?  
• Maybe introduce an interesting color word?  
• A texture/feeling?  
• A taste?  
• A smell?

Then I read Line 1 by Liz Steinglass:  "Nestled in her cozy bed, a seed stretched."

My thoughts about where the poem might go:

• I’m picturing the life of a plant, that grows old and returns to the earth, while her seeds grow where she stood, and in other places they were carried...by birds, animal fur, children...atop a mountain stuck to a climbers sock, in the woods where an animal dropped it...what adversities does each encounter?
• I could imagine being able to add almost any of the pre-poem ideas to this line as it stands.  But who knows where it will be by the time I read this again!

Some ongoing thoughts:

• Hey, there's a bird carrying it! That was in my thoughts.  Maybe it will go that way...
• This is crazy.
• What?  How...
• Oh, I see.  Yes.
• Try reading it out loud.  Yes, much better.
• Let's look at some interesting words in it: cozy, blooming, honeyed, feasting, whoosh, pulse, stardrops, moonbeams, embrace, sliding, dancing... so many!

And now, today - the poem.  This is what I was thinking as I read the poem today, preparing myself for the challenge of adding something worthy of this collaborative gem:

• Remember to read your thoughts about this poem BEFORE you write.  Maybe they will help you.
• Is the poem anything like what I'd imagined it would become?  Not really. 
• Loosen up.  Scramble your brain some, unscramble your brain some.  
• Have some coffee, sit for a bit.
• Read it again
• Joke about it with my husband, "I think I'll just write that Jasmine slipped out of the owl's talons and fell to the ground and the owl ate her, The End... 

• Get serious.

Did I  use a pre-poem idea?  In a way, I did.  I knew that I wanted it to be unusual, and an interruption for the half-way point if at all possible. It wasn't a taste or smell or texture that needed to come out - it was MOVEMENT! 

I think I did what I thought the middle of a poem should/could/would do.  See what you think.  Here's the poem today with my part added - its half-way point:
****************************************************************************

Nestled in her cozy bed, a seed stretched.
Oh, what wonderful dreams she had!
Blooming in midnight moonlight, dancing with
the pulse of a thousand stars, sweet Jasmine
invented a game.

"Moon?" she called across warm honeyed air.
"I'm sad you're alone, come join Owl and me.  
We're feasting on stardrops, we'll share them with you." 
"Come find me, Moon called," hiding behind a cloud.

Secure in talons' embrace, Jasmine rose
and set. She split, twining up Owl's toes, pale 
moonbeams sliding in between, Whoosh, Jasmine goes.
Owl flew Jasmine between clouds and moon to Lee's party!

Moon, that wily bright balloon, was NOT alone.
                                                       Jas grinned,
                                                                
                                                               stretched,
                                                                          
                                                                     reached,
                                                                             
                                                                           wrapped
                                                                               
                                                                          a new,
                                                     
                                                   around          tender
                                                              rootlet

****************************************************************************

Take it away, Sarah!!  It is your turn!
See the sidebar navigation to keep track of this poem's progression.