At YMCA family camp this fall, I woke up early with the girls, who were wild awake from bunkbed sleep and campfire marshmallows. In the morning, you can talk with the chef. Chef Steve spends half his year cooking in one state, half cooking in another—a seasonality I admired. That weekend, we ate Chef Steve’s meals, and also we ate many servings of an innovation made by the campers: snow cream! He said of the campers, “I forget their names but I remember what they eat.” He said of the word he chose for his poem: “Every cook is an innovator.”
Bonus poem: while the girls and their moms walked to our cabin in the dark with a single phone’s light illuminating the way, my 8-year-old daughter spontaneously created her own poem:
I can’t see what is in front of me
or what is behind,
but I do have enough light
to find what I need to find.
The Stranger: Chef Steve
The Word: Innovator
The poem I wrote:
Even when the pantry
looks empty, an innovator
can feed a table. I get that.
I get this making
something from air. This
superpower I love best:
at camp or in a car
or when everyone fusses
or when nobody has
anything, I can spin a story.
What is that thing you spin?
Do not remember
your successes or failures.
Only remember
the pleasure of trying.
The Challenge: Do you have a poem in you on this word? Write one here.
November 1, 2019 at 4:08 pm
When I’m avoiding writing
avoiding putting butt to chair
taking up pen, or more commonly
clicking my computer to Word
I notice every crumb under the refrigerator
and remember that the coils haven’t been dusted
in ages . . . . . or ever?
the stove looks greasy and needs an extra wipe-down
The sink needs a good dose of Clorox
and it won’t take long to put just a few pieces
into the puzzle on the counter
the fire extinguisher in the corner
also needs a good dusting
When I’m avoiding writing
I become Chef Celebre
an innovator of marvelous or different
cuisine
I bake Sourdough bread
and make Roasted Pumpkin Soup
even Vegan dishes are appealing
and no challenge at all
I make soups from ALL the vegetables
in the bin
and toss in that lone, wrinkled pear
every kind of soup needs a little sweetness
When I’m avoiding writing
I make Italian salad dressing
and look up recipes for Tahini
perched in the back of the cupboard
never opened,
it expired last month
but it’s probably still good
I make an emergency run
to the grocery store
to pick up Parsley which I rarely have on hand
(but the Tahini recipe calls for it)
and remember that today is the fruit stand’s closing day
50% off
I pick up Jalapeño Pistachios
and Pomegranite Pepper Jelly
to serve with crackers and cream cheese
just like I did in the 80’s
Now the kitchen’s sparkling clean
food is waiting to be served
the poem’s almost done
and so is the day
the real writing,
the writing I intended to do today
can be tackled tomorrow
though the puzzle isn’t finished
and the kitchen may be dirty
again!
November 2, 2019 at 3:53 pm
Impact!
Screaming from the sky,
It crashed into the sea,
Cataclysm’s catalyst
Changed what was to be.
For sure, it made the dinos sore,
Their place in time, distinct.
Graved on their family stump,
In bold-type, is “extinct.”
K-T bar the door!
It’s called a boundary.
No giant lizards will be crossing.
They’ve been brought to knee.
Fire, shock, tsunamis,
Dark ash and acid rain.
Except in movies and museums,
They’ll not be seen again.
It’s got to be a bummer
When your doing as you’re bade
And an asteroid impacts
The ending of your clade.
But as luck will have it,
Opportunity abounds
The fortune of furry critters,
Ones that went to ground.
So many prospects opened
For those who have survived.
Nature picked and chose
For selected traits, derived.
Hail to Mammalia!
Now’s your time to dominate
Your era in ascendance,
Becoming something great!
Spread out and get comfortable.
Find a niche and scratch it.
Fertilize your ova,
Lay a plot and hatch it!
Why not enjoy your time
As evolving innovator?
But keep an eye on the sky
For the next great desecrator.
November 4, 2019 at 8:39 pm
Chance
Nature, the great innovator,
Child of chance, allowed
The platypus to lay eggs
And feed the hatchlings milk
That seeps through her skin.
And in the lottery of DNA
One change leads to another,
One cell teaches another
To behave or misbehave,
Repair itself or spread disarray.
What we depend on, day after day
Rides on chance and chance on change
Always expect the unexpected
(As the wise said long ago)
Tomorrow never looks like today.
November 6, 2019 at 7:27 pm
Caffeinated
Third cuppa joe
and I go-go-go,
race the high,
toss futures to the wind-
I am an innovator,
recklessly abundant with
energy and plans.
-Then-
afternoon slump with its
slanted sunshine,
day half gone,
a to-do list grows longer.
Outside a squirrel scampers for acorns,
One eye on the sky.
Friend, tell me your secret-
How do you keep going?
November 9, 2019 at 4:30 pm
Dear Friend
I admire you
your go-go-go
But I gotta be honest
I’m slow-slow-slow
Breakfast is eaten,
the dishes are washed
put a few pieces in the puzzle
more than half the day’s past
A walk by the river
admired the Red Hawk
I’m such a giver
took soup to the lost
It’s 5 PM now
with my tonic and gin
munching chips and guacamole
I’ll pack it all in!
November 20, 2019 at 8:42 pm
I love this!
November 11, 2019 at 6:11 am
More than Warm
More than warm,
more than bright eyes or smile,
she’s got the heat…
fire in her drive,
her own skin
blistered
many times.
No pine needle fuel
or common bark,
the innovator
burns the hillside,
long after dark,
breaking containment,
spreading
deep into October.
November 14, 2019 at 1:26 pm
Under the Bridge
Ensconced under the bridge in makeshift shelters of salvaged rusty metal
like rolling stones that gather no moss
No roots
Free
Carefree
Avoiding responsibility
Nearby moss appears as an innovator
attached to buttresses supporting the weight of the world above
Rooted
Burdened
Sad
Accountable
The moss appears to
challenge the rust
to stay alive and avoid immobility