chipperYou all know that I adore structured poetry, from the haiku to the virelai. (Actually, that's a lie; I abhor the virelai. But I respect people who actually enjoy writing them.) You also know that you're a pretty creative lot. So here: the gates are thrown open! Write me a structured poem about Rosemary and Rue. Since you haven't read the book, it can be about anything from what you think it's going to be about to pre-ordering to how much you want a copy—whatever makes you happy. Any structured form is allowed, as long as you can tell me what it is when asked.
Entries will be taken through the end of the week. Then, next Monday, I'll put up a voting post, and let people vote for their favorites. The winner will receive, naturally, a copy of Rosemary and Rue. Just in case that's not sufficient incentive, there will also be a prize for participation—just entering a poem will enter you in a random number drawing for a signed cover flat. I don't have very many of these, so this is something pretty spiffy for you to stick on your wall.
Game on!
Nioi
May 11 2009, 14:14:13 UTC 8 years ago
A tea's aroma is the purer hue,
The richer shade, the deeper and more true,
Where taste's a crude and disappointing shell.
The Japanese silk dyers dipped their sleeves
To let the colour deepen, strengthen, fill,
And named it for a fragrance lingering still,
Etched vividly in broideries and weaves.
In tea the dried herb untwists in the cup
And arcs in agony as it boils away:
Its scent, its last long breath, dissolves away
And leaves the taste behind to be drunk up.
Poor rosemary and rue, so crisply scented,
Yet like the taste of bitter love repented.
("Nioi" is Japanese for "fragrance/odour/scent", but is also used to refer to a shading of colour due to different amounts of time in the same dye bath, often used to produce graduated shades of silk and cotton for layers of kimono in the Heian period.)
(So I was rereading Liza Dalby. So sue me.)