I guess we all know how it is to get a good start on something and then it all sort of falls apart on you. Real life gets in the way sometimes and there’s not much we can do about it except pick up the pieces and keep moving forward. April’s been a little like that for me this year. I had a great start on the PAD (poem a day) challenge, then I went to visit my sister in Florida. We were having such a great time together that stopping to write poetry was very low on my priority list. Then two days after I got home, fate decided to send me the mother of all head colds. It’s hard to be creative when you can’t breathe.
Just before I left for Florida, I wrote a poem for a prompt to write a poem inspired by art. I happened to choose Van Gogh’s painting, “Irises”. When my sister and I went to The Tilted Teacup, I was surprised to see a copy of that painting on the wall. At the time I thought it serendipitous and told myself to remember it for a possible blog post. I started feeling a little better today, so when the prompt came up to write about a “food establishment” I knew I had to write about the one negative dining experience I had while on vacation. Hence, “From Tilted Teacups to Pastitsio” was born. (Just to be clear, The Tilted Teacup is highly recommended should you ever be in the vicinity of Brooksville, FL. Dimitri’s in Tarpon Springs is not.)
So today I offer you the last poem before my vacation and the first one since my return, with a few scattered photos from the trip in between, with hopes that I’ll manage to keep the creative flow going for the rest of the month. Enjoy!
This cold morning
when frost coats the flowers
I recall purple irises
From Tilted Teacups to Pastitsio
The day began a little tilted
with teacups and tasty treats
to tantalize and delight the palate;
a beautiful day overflowing
with sunshine and sibling affection.
Together, they enjoyed their time,
as only sisters can,
taking pleasure in the little things
and laughing at jokes
only the two of them understand.
Strolling along quaint seaside streets,
they shop for souvenirs:
sponges, soaps, and songs in the breeze.
The tenor of day shifted as dusk drew near;
the wind on the water turned high hopes
for a sunset cruise into chilly disappointment,
and though they missed watching the sun
sinking into the seas, they still marveled
at the painter’s pallet in the sky.
Back on land, hungry and eager for a little adventure,
in a village populated by Greek restaurants,
they tossed a symbolic coin and entered Dimitri’s.
Had they visited the restroom before they ordered,
things might have gone differently–
but their mood was still high
so it might not have changed a thing.
Their waiter was not affable,
but the wine was pleasant.
The garlic-potato appetizer resembled
what the dog vomited up in the yard–
and tasted like it too.
One of them had tasted homemade pastitsio before,
so they both went with that, thinking it a safe choice.
They should have thought again.
The waiter, seeing so much left on their plates,
and anxious for a tip, asked if they wanted a box,
was startled by the stereo effect of “No!”
Experience is an excellent teacher.
The sisters learned their lesson well,
deciding Greek food was not their cup of tea.
And though it left a bad taste in their mouths,
they washed it away with
laughter and good wine.
~Elise Skidmore ©2016