Wilkommen in Oktober!
What’s with the German accent, you ask? It is the last week of Oktoberfest, that German celebration commemorating the marriage of the Crown Prince Ludwig to Princess Therese of Saxe-Hildburghausen in October of 1810. It is said that the royal wedding party was so grand that the citizens of Bavaria decided to repeat the event annually, thus giving rise to the annual tradition of Oktoberfest, a tradition that has lasted over 200 years.
If you were to ask the average person today what they most associate with the tradition of Oktoberfest, they will not likely cite the royal wedding of antiquity. No, instead, they will likely raise a stein and mention a singular beverage—beer. And is it any wonder? It is said that in Munich, the home of the Oktoberfest celebration, approximately 7.5 million liters of locally brewed Märzen Beer are consumed during the sixteen day festival. Sounds like a good party, right? You can bet on it.
This month at Tweetspeak we are starting our own party, our own poetic celebration of wine and beer. That’s right, October’s found poetry prompt is festive, indeed—beer and wine.
So crack a cold one. Raise a glass. Pop a top. Grab a pen and a journal and get to writing. Need a little inspiration? Consider visiting the official website of Oktoberfest. Not enough? Visit my friend Robin Dance, who donned her own dirndl at this year’s Oktoberfest in Munich, and lived to tell the tale (or at least post the pictures on her instagram feed).
Let some party words ferment this week, and see what comes pouring out of the stein. Then, let’s come back here and share the fruit of our labors with each other. After all, what’s a festival without festive party-goers?
Proscht!
Tweetspeak’s October Beer and Wine Prompt:
This month’s found poem theme at Tweetspeak is Beer and Wine, and we’re using words and phrases from beer and wine related products, articles, or musings as the prompt. We’d love you to join with is. How do you participate?
1. Grab a cold one or a bottle of wine, a magazine article relating to beer or wine, or your favorite short story touching on the subject.
2. Arrange a found poem containing words from the products. Make sure your poems touch on themes of beer or wine.
3. Tweet your poems to us. Add a #TSCheers hashtag so we can find it and maybe share it with the world.
4. If you aren’t a twitter user, leave your found poem here in the comment box.
5. Each week we’ll share a few of the poems. At the end of the month, we’ll choose a winning poem and ask the winner to record his or her poem to be featured in one of our upcoming Weekly Top 10 Poetic Picks.
Last month we arranged found poems relating to tea, and our favorite poem of the month came from Christine Boldt, who wrote this piece of irony in “Slow Learner”:
I shall re-microwave yesterday’s tea,
Convince myself that it doesn’t taste flat,
For it’s Lapsang Souchong as fine as can be.
I shall re-microwave yesterday’s tea.
I could make a fresh pot. I have twenty three.
But I’m studying Zen, can’t take time for all that.
I shall re-microwave yesterday’s tea,
Convince myself that it doesn’t taste flat.
Thank you for all your submissions last month. Now…who will uncork the first one this month?
Header photo by Kuba Bożanowski, Creative Commons via Flickr. Post photo by Robin Dance, with permission. Post by Seth Haines.
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Buy a year of Every Day Poems, just $2.99 — Read a poem a day, become a better poet. In October we’re exploring the theme Wine and Beer.
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Maureen Doallas says
Terroir
Neruda scales desire at dawn,
2,600 miles above the sea,
terroir-hunting. Across the spans
of the Andes’ alluvial stones
he sweeps a hand like wind itself
— his vintage breath the rise
and fall on a lover’s neck — cool
morning perfecting the climate
to praise the land’s own poetry.
In the fertile soils of Alto Maipo,
he plants his stock of Cabernet vines,
their roots, ungrafted, pushing
deep. These mountains, dry-farmed,
urge natural spirits to impart
to grapes inky as night the hints
of rosemary and time. Neruda’s
an elegant pour, scented with balsamic
notes, the fruity ripe red coloring
his crystal glasses the way, later,
his plump lips stain thirsting mouth.
Earth’s minerals make the poet’s life
long, his wine the honey of Santiago nights.
Monica Sharman says
(Okay, it’s kinda nonsense, but I put something together using the names of Colorado microbreweries and their brews. Here ya go:)
You’ll go faster on a Fat Tire
mountain-biking the Upslope
on a Snow Day. But (CAUTION!)
when the Crystal Springs come
down the Boulders of that Crazy
Mountain, you’ll see a Strange
Brewing, feel a churning that freezes
your quads and hams till, at Wit’s End,
you find yourself at Rock Bottom.
But after all, you’ll find
you did make it over the Great
Divide.
Maureen Doallas says
Love it, Monica.
Monica Sharman says
Thanks, Maureen! Funny how I started with beer and ended up biking over the Continental Divide.
L. L. Barkat says
you go where you need to go. 🙂
Love both these poems. Yours and Maureen’s.
Robbie Pruitt says
She
She spoke as the wind blew
Her words more blurry
With every pint of brew
The night would soon see to
What becomes of us
After three brew
The palms rustled
At the breeze off the sea
And there walked the one of us
For there was no she
Seth Haines says
I really like this Robbie.
Robbie Pruitt says
Thank you Seth!
Summer DeCoste says
Robbie,
This “she” used to be me…before God tapped the shoulder of thee…He took the glass and set it aside, for He knew it to only divide…the precious truth that lied inside her…for His will was not a blur.
Thank you Robbie!!
Summer
Robbie Pruitt says
Thanks Summer!
Appreciate you sharing your story. . .
What a poetic way to get that done too. . .
Robbie
Glynn says
Wines and October
You tell me it has faint strokes of citrus,
and I wonder how citrus could find
its way into Missouri clay, but it does.
Or that robust suggestions of cherry,
black courant and toffee (toffee?),
punctuated by smoky oak and pepper,
will splash my palate well with pasta,
grilled meats and Brie. But a hint
of cigar? Down my throat?
Accompaniment to duck and steak
and meaty stews replete with fatte
d’animal?
I think not; instead, I will sit atop
this hill of stones, this mount of pleasant,
my glass of Oregon redness in my hand
inhaling its silky smoothness,
its ripe black fruits and rich suppleness,
and turn my eyes to the sun.
The background on this poem is here: http://faithfictionfriends.blogspot.com/2012/10/wines-and-october.html