Tags
creative writing, farming, food, poem, poetry, writing, writing prompt
Food is something that’s, let’s face it, is always on my mind BUT particularly at the moment, and in new and deeper ways than – step away from the fridge, and let me in!
I recently read two fantastic books, Animal, Vegetable, Miracle by Barbara Kingsolver (of The Poisonwood Bible fame) and The Dirty Life, by Kristin Kimball. Both are memoirs exploring the daily reality of growing food, from seed to table. The beauty, the abundance, the challenge, the exhaustion and the broken and poisonous current large scale food production systems we have created, and that have distanced us so much from the meal on our plate. I highly recommend them both.
Rather than explore this topic in essay form, I decided to feed it into (!) last week’s writing session, as a prompt for a poem. The form of the prompt was this:
Draw a line in the centre of a blank page.
Above the line draw a tree trunk, with (to start with) three branches leading off with the words WHO (do we eat it with?), WHERE (do we eat it?) WHAT (do we like/not like to eat?).
Below the line, draw roots, again labelled WHO (grows it?) WHERE (does it come from?), WHAT (does it need in order to grow?)
Now, at your whim and pleasure, extend those branches off in any direction with your own spontaneous answers/responses to those questions, until you end up with something like this:
Of course, that activity alone could go on for a very long time, we spent no more than five minutes harvesting thoughts and ideas, and then shared them for some fruitful creative cross-pollination. Then, I invited each writer to pen a poem, in just ten minutes, inspired by that exploration. This is what I wrote:
I say I eat alone
Often alone, with my computer
And iPlayer for company
But if the essence of all those
Involved in the meal
that waits on my plate
were present as I ate
my bedroom would be pretty full
of the worms that turned the soil
and the people that toiled in
all weathers, somewhere on this planet
we share, there’s a man, woman or child
with a name and a family of their own
who played a part in growing
this food that waits on my plate
so am I really alone
when I eat? Would I slow down
eat less fast if I knew, if I felt
the aching back, the cold wet hands,
the burnt skin on the cheeks of
those who spent hours, days, weeks
growing harvesting, transporting that food
that waits on my plate
if they stood watching over my shoulder
would I be more aware of the taste
before I swallow, give thanks for the
rain, sun, earth and air that
conspired in this everyday alchemy not
to ensure I was fed but simply to honour
the cycle of give and take and life
and death and nourish and be nourished
that has been in place long before
this meal that waits on my plate
I was very moved by all the different responses, and to discover that most of us in the writing circle that day ate most of our meals alone, which leaves me with many questions…food for thought 🙂
If you enjoyed this prompt, then you can find more here:
and here:
https://wordsthatserve.wordpress.com/writing-prompts-the-elements/
