Meeting, 2/23/07

As we decided to concoct a group serial poem about breakfast cereal, we had many interesting and varying ways bringing this to life. Matt's poem, "A Soyish Dream", was inspired by last week's conversation to try soy milk with cereal. He had an apparent euphoric experience with that, which translated nicely in a sort of "love poem" about cereal. Bret, who likes to write in the visual genre, brought us something a little more confined than usual, but still unique, utilizing the word "crunch," to overwhelm us. Derek brought us, "Part of a Well-Balanced Meal," about the sugary sludge of a Cheerio breakfast. We combined all of our poems together at the end. Matt's poem, being the longest, is the stanzas in red, Derek's is in blue, Bret's is in green, and mine (Meg) will be in gold.



An ode to my sweet nostalgic friend
I feel as if I never knew you
Yes, there was once a time
When I'd utterly devour you with pleasure.
Ravishingly skimming you dry,
A condiment to my desirous impulse
That vanished amidst my wincing wishes to die.

Fuel for the fire
with little chocolate covered
CRUNCHES.
A magic melting pot of marvelous mysteries,
A super sugar solution for sleep.
The chemical colors will continue to
smile down and take us in, to:
Day or night,
it is just what feels right.

Yet, soon I discovered a remedy
That allowed Chocolaty Delights
To finding solace in my belly,
Maybe it took a little NASA ingenuity
Or maybe it was a similar concern to somebody else.
A soyful engagement, nevertheless
That allowed this concotion of love to attest.

Tricks are for kids
so milk it for all its worth
iniquity in mastication
knowledge through saturation
get up early
don't quit your day job

Now, to have one is not without the other,
An equation withing which I long to smother.
Dry lips quenching for something sweet
A melodrama for my mouth to meet.
Yet, my delicious Delights, it isn't you I eternally hunger for.
Oh, the selfish slup that I am, I want so much more.
More sweetly pleasures with soyish cream.
You couldn't possibly fulfill this boyish dream.

my spoon sinks
into a sludge
of sugar and milk
scraping
the gritty enamel
of the porcelain bowl
it lifts
breaking the surface
with a heap
of glistening mud
and one
single
sweet
soggy
cheerio

So I walked through the aisle where this love gave birth
To find the tempting tang of soyful mirth.
Starving to have my fill of exotic fruit.
Toucan you can become my exotic beaut.
Or buzzing around my ear, sadly she might say,
"I'll be your honey, if only you'll stay."
But alas, my tempestuous craving for variety yields
To an almost obeying desire to play the field.
There is a richness in flavor I cannot concede,
It is the soy in my life upon which I shall feed.