Happy 2023, friends.
It’s a brand new year or, at least, that’s what we always root and hope for, us faithful, foolish start-again optimists. But so many of our most recent years have felt relentless rather than new, so it’s no wonder we (and by we I mean my Poetry Sisters and I) have decided to explore the idea of transformation in 2023.
To start with, we chose Cascade Poems, which transform the first stanza into additional lines throughout the poem. You’ll find a more detailed explanation and examples of the form here but honestly, I think you’ll get the gist.
Meanwhile, I’ve decided that I need a little something extra to help shape my work this year, something concrete or tangible to lean on, some proveable, explainable version of transformation. So, you’ll notice that my poems will all touch on, in some way, a scientific process. This first one, MELT, went somewhere I didn’t expect it to at all — my childhood fevers. This is the magic of a prompt or exercise, I think. The transformation (ha!) of one idea into another. Here goes…
MELT /melt/ verb
Liz Garton Scanlon
make or become liquified
make or become more tender
leave or vanish or disappear
says my fever to the ice
pressed to my temples
make or become liquified
says delirium to all reason
says the record playing spinning
make or become more tender
says each blurry softening
each terrifying letting-go
leave or vanish or disappear
(*all lines in itals taken or amended from various dictionary definitions)
And for more Cascade poems, please visit:
Tanita
Tricia
Laura
Sara
Kelly
Mary Lee
And Poetry Friday is at Bookseed Studio.
Wow. I love how you wove the definitions through the fever. And the repetition of “says.” Powerful.
Oh, my! This is like a combo of a definito with a cascade poem, and it works beautifully…as a stand alone or as part of a character arc. Or, you know, as you planned—part of a series on scientific processes! I could read this one over and over.
UGH! Recaptcha failed, and I lost my comment!!! Sorry, okay, let’s see if I can recreate it.
I love your use of varied definitions and how each stanza embraces that definition in a different yet related way. The last stanza contains a little bit of heartache, and I love it.
As you can imagine, I’m thrilled your poems this year will be tinged with science.
Liz, so glad you transformed out of those child-days fevers & into the gifted poet & author you are. Congrats to all the Poetry Sisters for their 2023 theme selection & this Poetry Friday’s cascade poems. I’m enthralled by yours.
I LOVE this — somehow the repetition of melting leads to the blurriness of being febrile and spinning. And I remember some pretty awful childhood fevers wrapped in sheets with ice. Brrr!
Oooh, a scientific process? Yes, please. That detail of the record player spinning is so evocative. LOvely!
I love all the repetition in your poem. I must try this form. I recently read Lolo’s Light and loved it. I know it will touch many hearts. xo
Fascinating and beautiful! I’m going to try one!
Those feel like some pretty heavy fevers I’m glad you pulled through and they transformed into taking on the role of a poem kernel. Good luck with your Science-rooted poem writing, Thanks Liz!
Using the definitions has guided you through the poem’s structure with focus, delivering a poem that delivers a sense of softening sensations- a sense of fading away. Liz, your poem melts into the reader with gentle persuasion.
I love the reptition here – and that your definitions took you somewhere unexpected. Perfect!
It is intriguing how moving through your science research brought you to the childhood memories, Liz. The voice feels so strong, like “outing” that fever per the rules, but a bit of tenderness, too. Love the way it reads aloud.
Love this–and especially the idea of following scientific processes for poetry! I’m in. The personification of “my fever” is great. Thank you for this poem.
I’m fascinated that so many of us used the transformational cascade to touch on themes of holding on and letting go–or maybe that would happen in any January. Youscience-process focus as a shaping mechanism for your work this year is a broadening of the OLW idea, and I’m all for broad. I wondered about my OLW and then realized I had chosen it–#change–which is about as broad a shaping mechanism as you’ll find. Thanks for this blurry, softening experience.
I love this. The repetition evokes the disorienting spin of a fever — makes me feel dizzy, the way a fever does, the way it leaves me unsure of which direction I’ll be facing when it disappears and I arise.
What a cool response to the prompt. I love how the definitions weave in among the memories.
I love this take on the cascade. Weaving in the different definitions of melt was inspired!
I love how you have decided that all of your poems will be about a scientific process. Such a great challenge. The poem is beautiful.
I feel the pulsing at your temple in these lines – imagining lying still, waiting, hoping for it to subside.
Awesome how you wove it all together — the science, the definitions, the memories — all the more powerful with repetition in such a spare form. Love it!
That opening stanza, Liz! It’s chilling (pun intendened?) when I imagine the fever speaking to the ice. Those childhood fevers are frightening.