one of my girls -- Jill Battson
My next poet is another friend of mine. Jill Battson. Jill is a poetry goddess, a slave driver, but a poetry goddess. For the last 2 years Jill has run a poetry festival just outside of Kingston. It draws Canada's best spoken word performers like bill bissett and Sheri-d Wilson. Some poets come from south of the border as well -- reg e gaines and Reggie Cabico. It's brilliant. Watching Jill perform is something truly special. she has a charming British accent and a flare for drama. Her words on the page are strong, but performance is where it's at. I love Jill's writing and I love that she drives me nuts in the summer months before her festival. Sure, it sucks having to do all the crap jobs she doesn't want/doesn't have time to do, but when the festival rolls around and I sit in her beautiful stone country house sipping orange juice, petting her dogs, and listening to the conversation of 'famous' poets while waiting for the afternoon performances, I realize that it is all worth it. Completely.
I wanted to post Jill's hilarious poem about Martha Stewart but I don't have it. So, here is one of her more 'serious' poems and as such entirely wonderful.
36 reasons why I want to grow a garden
Because I want to plunge my hands into dark rich soil
Because I want to sweat as I labour over the fork
I want to taste the salt as I sweat
I want to smell hard work on my body
I want my muscles to ache
and then be soothed by soft rain
Because I want the open canvas of tilled land
I want the beauty of level earth, prepared
I want honest calluses on my hands
Because I want to feel the rough sleeping seeds
tumble through my fingers into the ground
I want to smooth them over with a blanket of soft loam
I want to watch the birth of green shoots
as they push themselves towards the sun
Because I want to lie next to the garden listening to the plants grow
I want to smell the earth after rain and after sun
I want to nurture the seedlings into plants
support them with poles and trellises
I want to talk them through their adolescence
Because I want to watch flowers pollinated by bees and butterflies
I want to see the first fruit
smell the sun warmth of a fresh tomato
Because I want to crush aromatic basil plants in my arms
I want to feel the heavy stalks of corn against my body
I want to see my hands stained by the chlorophyll of their existence
I want to watch the plants shine in rising vermilion sun
and glow in the silver of a full moon
Because I want to listen to their chatter as they decide their destiny
I want to harvest the fruit of my labour
I want to relish each individual vegetable shape in my hands
drink their beauty with my eyes
Because I want to feel their unique presence in the world
I want to press them against my face to feel their textures
I want know that when I cook them they will be minutes old
clean of pesticides and pollution
and when I serve them
ripe, brilliant and ready on white china
I want to know that you'll be there
I wanted to post Jill's hilarious poem about Martha Stewart but I don't have it. So, here is one of her more 'serious' poems and as such entirely wonderful.
36 reasons why I want to grow a garden
Because I want to plunge my hands into dark rich soil
Because I want to sweat as I labour over the fork
I want to taste the salt as I sweat
I want to smell hard work on my body
I want my muscles to ache
and then be soothed by soft rain
Because I want the open canvas of tilled land
I want the beauty of level earth, prepared
I want honest calluses on my hands
Because I want to feel the rough sleeping seeds
tumble through my fingers into the ground
I want to smooth them over with a blanket of soft loam
I want to watch the birth of green shoots
as they push themselves towards the sun
Because I want to lie next to the garden listening to the plants grow
I want to smell the earth after rain and after sun
I want to nurture the seedlings into plants
support them with poles and trellises
I want to talk them through their adolescence
Because I want to watch flowers pollinated by bees and butterflies
I want to see the first fruit
smell the sun warmth of a fresh tomato
Because I want to crush aromatic basil plants in my arms
I want to feel the heavy stalks of corn against my body
I want to see my hands stained by the chlorophyll of their existence
I want to watch the plants shine in rising vermilion sun
and glow in the silver of a full moon
Because I want to listen to their chatter as they decide their destiny
I want to harvest the fruit of my labour
I want to relish each individual vegetable shape in my hands
drink their beauty with my eyes
Because I want to feel their unique presence in the world
I want to press them against my face to feel their textures
I want know that when I cook them they will be minutes old
clean of pesticides and pollution
and when I serve them
ripe, brilliant and ready on white china
I want to know that you'll be there