NPM 2015: What Are You Wearing, Tabatha Yeatts?

Find the official NPM 2015 poster
at the Academy of American Poets

It's the first Friday of National Poetry Month. You know what that means ... a super celebratory Poetry Friday. 

This week's round-up is at Amy Ludwig VanDerwater's The Poem Farm. Want more? Jama Rattigan has a list of kids' lit National Poetry Month projects and celebrations at Alphabet Soup.

All this month, guest bloggers are putting on their finery here at Author Amok. We're doing a month-long feature on poetry about clothes. In addition to the guest posts, every Friday in April I'll post a round-up of original clothing poems. (Send those via email to laurashovan at gmail dot com or leave them in the comments). You'll find a writing prompt at the bottom of this post.

Meet today's guest blogger, poet Tabatha Yeatts. 

Thanks for having me on Author Amok, Laura! I'm sharing poems by the inimitable Greg Pincus. "Greg Pincus" is an interesting poet, don't you think? I mean, have you ever wondered how a man who is always in such a rush that he's "gottabook" somehow manages to write poems on every topic imaginable? Or how "Pincus" abbreviates to "K."? Or how a person who claims to be an "adult" gets into the head of kids so easily? Well, what do you expect from a man who fibs every chance he gets?

“Is this really Greg Pincus?”

Here are some of Greg’s weatherproof, tailor-made, pre-shrunk clothing poems:

My Method For Tying Shoes
by Greg Pincus

Keep your "Bunny Ears" and "loop-de-loops" -
I'll tie shoes with the method I've got.
Oh, sure, it's a mess
Yet there's often success...
So I call it the "Probably Knot."

I Put Each Carrot In a Suit
by Greg Pincus

I put each carrot in a suit.
The lettuce in a scarf (how cute!).
Tomatoes? Ribbons in their hair.
The celery's in underwear.
Sneakers for the kidney beans.
The cucumber's in new blue jeans.
The avocado wore a dress.
The onion's in a tux (oh, yes!).
The jicama's in high-heeled shoes.
The mushroom? Any belt I choose.
The apple is a naked guy.
The olive's in a shirt and tie.
I put the radish in a vest.
There, I think the salad's dressed.

My Favorite Shirt

By Greg Pincus

This shirt is great - the best I’ve worn.

Who cares if it’s all frayed and torn

Or that it’s old, and I’ve been growing

And when I stretch my belly’s showing?

The words it showed in blue and red

Are gone (though I know what they said).

I know it’s stained. That’s good for me:

Each splotch contains a memory.

I love this shirt with all my heart.

I’ll wear it 'til it falls apart.

So wash it, please, with love and caring...

To make it last for one more wearing.

Hat Head

By Gregory K.

I've got hat head really bad.

You say I shouldn't care?

Well, maybe hat head's fine for you,

But me? I have no hair!

Tabatha is a mysterious figure whose home may or may not have a secret room with a tea fountain. There's a rumor she trained under Madam Pomfrey. She probably didn't raise a Golden Snidget from a snidgling. She has been known to write poems about "imaginary" places. You'll find her blogging at The Opposite of Indifference.

Thanks for visiting, Tabatha. Greg, I will never look at my apple the same way again.

ICYMI: In this series...

Introductory Post

Jane Elkin looks in her childhood closet. Poems by Mark Irwin and Ron Koertge.

*Your suggested clothing poem prompt for Friday, April 3: Storage.

Where and how do you keep your clothes? Do they hang in your closet, organized by color? Are they crumpled on the bedroom floor? Are you an organized packer, or do you toss things into a suitcase and hope for the best. I still remember the name of the long-ago camp counselor (Janice) who taught us how to roll our clothes up tight to maximize space.

Send your poems any time. I'll post original work throughout the weekend.

Earlier this week, guest blogger Jane Elkin shared some poems where clothing was a metaphor for a parent/child relationship. That theme appears again in the Paul Hopper sent in. It's by Marc Kelly Smith. Thanks, Paul. I love how Smith uses repetition and plain language to add power to the poem.

My Father's Coat
by Marc Kelly Smith

I'm wearing my father's coat. He has died. I didn't like him, But I wear the coat. I'm wearing the coat of my father, Who is dead. I didn't like him, But I wear the coat just the same. A younger man, stopping me on the street, Has asked, "Where did you get a coat like that?" I answer that it was my father's Who is now gone, passed away. The younger man shuts up. It's not that I'm trying now to be proud of my father. I didn't like him. He was a narrow man. There was more of everything he should have done. More of what he should have tried to understand. The coat fit him well. It fits me now. I didn't love him, But I wear the coat.

Read the rest at SlamPapi.com.

Parrish Lantern left the gift of a poem this morning. I'll have to learn more about French poet Valerie Rouzeau.

I put on my walking shoes

by Valérie Rouzeau 

I put on my walking shoes 
I had shown you with the soles retreaded 
from old tires.
In pilgrim boats I floated to you
petals stuck to the leather as proofs
of my wishes on the way.

If anyone can find a link to the rest of the poem, please let me know and I will post it.