Ghazal Challenge

Welcome to Poetry Friday, hosted this week by Denise HERE. Thank you, Denise, for hosting!

What is Poetry Friday? Find out more about it HERE.

I learn so much from reading the Poetry Friday blogs each week, about poetry forms, about poets I have never read, and more. Last week, I learned about the ghazal.

What is a ghazal? It’s a poetry form that is not easy to write. The Poetry Foundation describes it HERE. And Catherine Flynn, and others have recently written and posted ghazals.

The form isn’t easy, and my first attempts failed. Actually, it seemed impossible, but poetry writing requires feeling stumped. I needed the right subject and I stumbled upon . . . .fried chicken.

My ghazal is about my mother who was the chief chef at our family restaurant. I think if she were here she might like it. The restaurant is long gone, and this is one of the few photos I have. Here I am in the 1990’s with my two boys, Phil and Matt.

When this photo was taken, my brother owned Scully’s and my sons thought it was cool to visit Uncle Mike in the kitchen.

When the restaurant opened in the fifties, the first item on the menu was fried chicken. It looked like this:

Scully’s fried chicken looked just like this.

Hungry yet? My mother cooked a tons of it. She’d roast huge pans of chicken halves in tomato juice sprinkled with Alamo seasoning then batter, bread and fry the roasted chicken in a deep fryer, sprinkle it with a touch of celery salt and serve. Here’s my Mom in the kitchen.

The ghazal poetry form is described on the links above. I can’t claim this follows the form perfectly. But here it is. There were days when Mom would have have surely referred to our popular dish in derogatory terms. 

SCULLY’S FRIED CHICKEN

My mother raised her kids making good-lickin' chicken,
plated and parsleyed tons of gold frickin' chicken

Standing by the stove breading breasts and thighs,
Dad at the bar served the hot quick chicken.

Southern fried from New York, not New Orleans,
still it was crispy good kickin’ chicken.

Fried scallops, too, fried shrimp and fried fish,
but most of our customers wanted bone pickin’ chicken.

Florida bound at the end of thirty years spent
serving mouth-watering plump thick chicken.

© Janice Scully 2021

Stay well, everyone. My thoughts are with all the brave teachers, children, and health care workers. Thanks, Denise, for hosting. You will find a list today’s Poetry Friday blogs on her blog, HERE.

13 thoughts on “Ghazal Challenge”

  1. Janice, I love the photos of Scully’s, your mom, your boys, and chicken! Yes, I’m hungry. And you even added a recipe. I’m bookmarking your post to try sometime since I can’t go to Scully’s. Great job on the ghazal. I think the “lickin'” “frickin'” “kickin'” and “pickin’ chicken” phrases are just so fun to read. Well done. I’m glad you came up with this topic. Isn’t it a wonder how ideas come to us?

  2. Writing about a memory and one that’s “finger-lickin’ great” makes me want to go to Scully’s, Janice. I loved reading about your mother and this memory.

  3. I want some Scully’s fried chicken!! Thanks for the finger-licking poem and wonderful photos. My kind of post, Janice . . . 🙂

  4. I agree with Jama. This was a finger-licking good fried chicken poem and the photo proves we are all right on. I loved hearing about your family’s restaurant. I never heard of it but it might have been in another part of Syracuse.

    1. Hi Carol. You never heard of it because it was downstate, on the border of NY, PA and NJ. In a town called Sparrowbush. No reason why you should have ever heard about that little town.

  5. Janice: Looks mighty good to me! Thanks for this poem and story about your family. I haven’t tried a ghazal…but your example is certainly tempting.

  7. Why yes, I am hungry! Great job. I love the words that end in ‘in. That gives this ghazal some sass. What a great photo and memory for you. Thanks for sharing it with us!

  8. Janice, your ghazal is finger-lickin’ fun, a whole new feel for a ghazal, and yet in the last stanza the longing to find respite from all that frying is palpable. But even more than your poem, this family history is FASCINATING, and by golly there is a picture book in there. Also I am very interested in your mom’s recipe for roasting in tomato juice before breading and frying. I never fry anything so I”m ignorant, but that sounds unusual and delicious.

  10. Bravo for taking on the ghazal, Janice! The repetition and rhythm pulled me through this poem as I readi it. What a wonderful way to capture memories of your mom. I haven’t had fried chicken since I moved overseas. Your poem brought back delicious memories – now I’m thinking I might need to make some!

Comments are closed.