Starting Again in Poetry

I’m going out to join the new resistance

I don’t know what I’ll do or what I’ll say

But things have gotten worst from day to day

I shan’t be gone long-You come too.

I’m going out to fight against the evil

demands for people to comply or die

I don’t know if I’ll win, but I will try

I shan’t be gone long. You come too.

With time on my hands, vowing not to go out into last week’s nor’easter, I decided to paint a mural on my art studio wall. I used to paint murals on my kid’s walls when they were young, and on the sunday school room walls when I was the director there, and even some set designing when I taught in middle school. But I haven’t done a mural in a long time. I had forgotten how much I like doing them For me, mural painting uses simpler designs, simpler palettes and plenty of room for adjustments. It’s not perfect. But it’s fun. And when making art for oneself, that is the most important part.

I’ve had a hard time writing poetry lately. The world is filled every day with something to worry about or rage about, overpowering my thoughts and blocking out creativity. But this helps. Allowing my visual creativity to expand opens space for poetry again.

Leaves reach out

demanding life

absorbing light

gaining strength

to grow.

We too need time to rest

to rebuild resilience

and determination,

to gather the light

of those in Minnesota

to do what’s right.

As I walk around the yard,

challenging myself

to one more lap,

to keep going,

to reach my goal,

I remind myself

that there is no time table.

There are no rules.

And if I walk

slowly

I will still

get where I was going.

The pressure I put

on myself

isn’t necessary.

So I listen to the birds,

laugh at the zoomy dog

and keep moving

one foot

in front of the other

on this unusually warm

January thaw.

Listen

In the quiet of the morning

somewhere between awake and imagination

i pull the covers over my head

and listen.

Gone are the headlines

and the commentary,

the emotional response

ripped from my body

as justification

that I care.

In the quiet of the morning

I listen

to my heart beat.

To words that bubble up from somewhere

deep within my soul

and know that If I take it slow

I will survive,

and we will all get by

this Alice in Wonderland nightmare

together.

Today I was reading on a blog, “the new year always brings new hope”. And for me, this has most often been true. But this year doesn’t feel that way. I am tired of all the politics, facing each new issue with resignation and disgust, while still wanting to somehow save the world. I see friends and families facing difficult situations, not ones that are easy to fix, but ones that require time and consideration and above all compromise as they aren’t going to get better. I need my new year’s hope.

Reading poetry blogs help. Hearing how others see the new year as a new beginning is softening my exterior. And reading about how some poets choose “one little word” to focus on during the year, helps me to look inside for my focus word.

So, for the month of January at least, my “one little word” is going to be listen. Not to everyone and everything, but to myself. To remember to hear my own thoughts, rather than just respond to everything around me. To slow down my ideas, and to be in the moment more often. My earworm today is:

“Slow down, you move too fast
You got to make the morning last
Just kicking down the cobblestones
Looking for fun and feelin’ groovy”

Listen

Listen to the silence.

Listen to the wind.

Listen to your heartbeat

Let the quiet in.

Listen to the wordsongs

that tumble in your soul.

Listen to your quiet mind.

Let go of your control.

Happy New Year everyone. Today’s Poetry Friday is with Catherine at Reading to the Core where she shares a poem for January. Be sure to stop by..

I got caught up in the whirlwind of Christmas, and didn’t get any further on this month’s daily poetry prompts. But today I wanted to take a moment to think about Poetry Friday, and maybe write a new poem. One prompt did stand out to me.

Write about a line of poetry you want to carry into the new year.

Well I’ve been carrying a phrase around with me for a year already. Every once in a while I think about this line and I’m still enamored of it. So today, I thought I’d approach it again, and see how friendly it would be. The line is, dust on a spider’s web.

The lists are finished,

crossed off and completed.

Presents are wrapped

and stacked under the tree.

Cookies are baked,

and hidden away from temptation.

Only then, when the mind grows

still

like dust on a spider’s web

can we truly understand

the peace of the season

filling our hearts

with love

and giving us hope

for the new year.

Dec. 3rd: Write 5 small things you are grateful for

1. Always, my family (even when we are not together, they are the most important)

2. My retirement (for allowing me time to do the things I love)

3. My love of writing. (which brings me great joy to both do, and in my reading)

4. Kids. (grandchildren, nieces, friends and students. Kids bring my heart light)

5. Poetry (capturing a moment in time, perfectly)

Hmm….those don’t seem very small. In fact, they fill my soul completely. Let me try again.

1. Morning sun streaming through the window above my desk.
2. Zoomies: in my dog or my grandchild.
3. Rabbit foot prints in the snow.
4. A freshly made bed, covered with my great-grandmother’s quilt.
5. Chai. Hot or Cold, any time, any where.

Dec. 2nd: Write about a time when someone showed you kindness

It Takes a Village

I wanted to find an old picture

from a group on facebook,

but no matter how hard I looked

no matter how detailed the search

my hands remained empty.

So finally,

I asked the group.

“Does anyone know where

I can find this artwork?”

( I think her name is Maura.)

(I agree, it starts with an M.)

(I saw someone reference her on Youtube.)

(She was at this festival in England.)

( I just bought an ornament from her.)

Within minutes, I had an address.

Within an hour, she was emailing me

herself,

asking what I needed.

Sometimes, all it takes

is a village.

and the bravery to reach out a hand

for help.

Dec. 1st: Notice one delight today and write it down.

Zoomies

I no longer have that urge

for zoomies,

running at full speed

as fast as possible.

Sheer joy.

Children and dogs do.

Whether to expend excess energy

in being alive,

being outside

or being inside a moment

of delight,

they zoom.

My joy

is more quiet,

watching fall leaves shiver

as they flip from light to dark

sailing slowly

downward,

qullting the November grass

before snowfall.

I may not run any more

but zoomies

bring joy to my heart.

Both the slow ones

and the fast ones.

Matt, from Radio, Rhythm and Rhyme wrote about having his students write freely by taking a famous poem and rewriting it in their own words, or changing the words based on how they were feeling. It got me thinking of my favorite poems, and playing along with their rhythms. One of my favorite authors is William Carlos Williams. His poems can easily become earworms, they are so short and pithy. This is one of my favorites.

This Is Just To Say

BY WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS

I have eaten

the plums

that were in

the icebox

and which

you were probably

saving

for breakfast

Forgive me

they were delicious

so sweet

and so cold.

——————————–

So, I’ve played with this to create this little ditty. My own little earworm for a rainy Saturday of poetry.

————————

I heard you

singing to the radio

cranked up so high

that the cat

left the empty room

though you probably 

thought

you were in tune

forgive me

for closing the door

you weren’t

---

This week’s poetry Friday is at https://janicescully.com/