Writing Prompt 6

Welcome to the sixth day of our 30/30!

Your prompt today is:

 

A soup made from memory would smell of
Alternatively: A [meal] made from memory would [sense] of

 

 

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Guidelines, if you want them:

  • Posting your response is not required
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  • This is not meant to be the perfect first draft – respond without hesitation for 5-7 minutes, then keep going if you want to
  • While our prompts are geared towards poetry, we welcome all kinds of artists
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5 comments

  1. wallflower memories/the ones that get swept aside/
    by other maelstroms/so vigorous/these tender lilies/
    choke to grow/in the periphery of the cerebral cortex./

    her garlic rasam/one such marvel/sits somewhere buried/
    percolates into my consciousness/in this confusion of winter
    & spring/springs into view/without warning, warms my eyes./

    her hands, i imagine/around that rasam tin pot/flavoring,
    extracting the essence/ her kind eyes, pausing/ to smile
    at me/ her melodious voice, in the midst of a song/ unseen./

    how quickly she came/ she went/ silently, not like the others/
    with flourish and show/ with capes & carpets/ some, like her/
    are remembered/with a sip of that rasam/i have never tasted after./

    and now i silently hope /when i sit cross-legged/on the floor/
    a banana leaf heaped with food/ placed in front of me/ that the person/
    who pours the rasam/ with the pungent garlic/ would in fact/ be her.

    //for my maternal grandmother – Oct 2002.

    Liked by 2 people

  2. Stone soup is one thing – a soup of inventiveness, comraderie –
    but memory soup is a whole other pot.
    Smelling of warmth born of green onion and garlic,
    carrots and potatoes, it invites sipping
    from old bowls used over the years.
    The broth is rich and full
    with the salt of tears, the pepper of experience,
    not the strongest smells but subtle and present.
    Like watching movie re-runs, slurping memory soup
    is comfortable and satisfying even when a little heavy on salt,
    the earthy smell floating up my nostrils.

    Liked by 2 people

  3. Pingback: #NationalPoetryMonth’16 Round-up (Day 6) | Bonespark~

  4. Crush mint and lavender until scents
    cling like second skin. Dip your fingers
    in a soup where cocoanut floats, and
    the night aromas of blooming lilies
    heavy with sleeping bees awaken
    your senses. Bruise the marigolds
    and remember how the early
    hyacinths smelled gathered on
    the kitchen counter, as freshly
    mowed grass clung to the screen.
    Call it a floral minestrone or serve
    it cold like a chilled gazpacho.
    Decline a spoon, and lift the bowl
    like some porcelain chalice to
    mingle the flavors of nasturtiums
    and peonies petals saved from
    spring. Dare the glances from
    those that don’t know how to
    savor these most sensual aromas,
    pretend its just soup and you
    are too hungry to care!

    Liked by 2 people

  5. a soup made from memory
    so long have I labored on this very topic!
    my blog http://www.joanleotta.wordpress.com
    tracks the progress of my contracted picture book on this very subject

    Here is a new poem on this
    So much goes into a soup
    vegetables
    water
    stock
    do your saute the veggies first, to fix the sweetness. add the richness of olive oil?
    do you pour stoick form a can, add chicken or ham
    do you follow a written plan?
    or like me are your ingreidents
    a paen to memory
    havest of childhood garden’seasoned with parsely
    tomato and your grandma’s love

    Liked by 1 person


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