Progress & A Poem about Soup-Bliss

High Summer Readathon Progress...


I'm proud to report that I've finished Dante's Divine Comedy, adapted as a graphic novel by the famed artist Seymour Chwast.  His black-and-white illustrations definitely brought a darkly humorous tone to the famed narrative poem.

Also, I read the final essay in a book I've been savoring a sip at a time, local luminary Brenda Miller's Blessing of the Animals.  Now I can head over to our fantastic local bookseller to buy her new collection!


Finally, and my shining accomplishment today:  I finished Roots!!  I'm so grateful to Laura over at Booksnob for hosting the read-along that continues through mid-August.  I feel quite sure that I would never have made it through what's turned out to be a fascinating read without her solid encouragement each week.  And then, of course, there's Michelle to thank for hosting this readathon that nudged me toward the finish line!

Next up:  The Odyssey (in graphic novel form) and 200 pages of War & Peace.  Will I make it?  Fingers crossed.

And here's my Word & Question poem for this month.  It's hosted in July by Salome Ellen over at her blog, so hop on by to sample far better efforts than mine!

Bliss Soup (or what to do with all that summer bounty)

Ingredients:

purple Signos, red Lapins,

Ewok-point shih tzus,  chestnut chickadees,

chartreuse spearmint, lavender sheets,

magenta geraniums, golden raspberries,

cloudless sky touching green fjords,

gray late sleep,  

books of assorted ripeness and heft,

occasional Arnold Palmers,

Siam star basil, and sunshine blues.

Directions:

Set a pot of idle cogitation on to simmer

 (prime it with two Ts of sense memory, or two ‘turns of the pan’).

Reverently place each of your ingredients,

preferably while they’re still

verdant with potential,

on the chopping block.

Hold each down tight with your gaze

(stare intently). 

Dice, dissect, or throw each in whole –

chef’s choice -

into the broiling broth.

Simmer awhile – one hour or three –

until fully fuzzled,

the pooch, the pen,

the flower, the fjord,

tempered by variety,

each aswirl in the other,

alchemized to indistinction.

Strain the substance of this stew.

Retain the rinds,

the hulls of the summer day:

They compost well,

and the red hen will

shoulder and peck

to keep them

hers.

Season the strained broth

while it’s still warm.

Behold:  the soup should be the gold

of remembered

perfection. 

Word: Bliss
Question:  What's in the soup?