morning poetry

November 19, 2023

/ HJ / Leave a comment

on our morning walk
the puppy and i saw
a blue jay happily cleaning out the gutters
of a house [we assume] ze does not own—
flinging dead leaves and other debris
blocking the flow
to the ground
flipping zir little head as ze does it
joyfully
[based on what little we know of bird moods]

and i have to know:
was ze contracted to do this work?
is ze fed by the residents and wanted to be kind and give back a bit?
or was ze looking for some food/worms/treasure deep in the muck?
[and if so, did ze end up finding it before ze flew off?]

May 23, 2023

/ HJ / Leave a comment

these mornings
these poems
they all slip together
to become something akin to
a giant gentle monster
overwhelming
overshadowing
but still cuddly as anything
(cuddly as me)
and i don’t know if this beast is one
i could ever tame
or if it needs to be free
wild
as uncontrollable
and uncontrolled
as i so desperately want to be

May 21, 2023

/ HJ / Leave a comment

my brain started the day
just craving sleep

it moved on to listing/spreadsheeting/
organizational breathing deep—-
the calm that comes from analytical endeavors

and i assumed that would negate the need for poetry
but my surprise rises in perpetuity
as i spit rhymes and find lines i didn’t know i
craved
with the very soul of me

i’ve expressed so much in so little time
in so very few lines
and it’s not even 9…

March 15, 2023

/ HJ / Leave a comment

sitting here
at the corner of my table—
the table i write at daily
but slightly offset
from most mornings—
writing about depression
and despair
and i see a heart
lightly etched into
this table
that came to us
secondhand

the heart could be a human marking
it could be a grain of the wood
it could be a scratch that so perfectly emulated
the hearts we draw
complete happenstance

but i find it
both sanguine
and sad
that while writing poetry
meant to allow
myself to feel those lulls of utter
darkness
i glance over
and see
a symbol
of hope

February 17, 2023

/ HJ / Leave a comment

wake
myself up
with poetry

widen my eyes
with words

pump my veins
with phrases
of soft rhymes
and alliterations

and pick up the pace
of morning
with stanzas of
longing

and beauty

wake
myself up
with poetry

February 2, 2023

/ HJ / Leave a comment

i am in a mood where
sitting still by a blank document
one arm on the table/laptop/keyboard
one in my lap
no movement
just thought
is far more comforting
(and possibly productive)
than churning out poem after poem

~~~

and yet i will write
because that is what i do
and that seems to be my calling
(at least as of late)
and sometimes one needs to have a moment of stillness
before capturing that stillness in art
(if we just try to capture it without fully feeling it
that art is meaningless
wouldn’t you agree?)

~~~

the droopy eyelids
hover over my eyes
laden with sleep
and a few days of tech week
and i am contemplating writing
contemplating huddling back under the sheets
contemplating at least a few moments of peace
before the craziness of today begins

February 1, 2023

/ HJ / Leave a comment

writing in bed
is interesting
especially when we’ve established
so many constant things
about writing at the table
downstairs//
but this morning
i think we both needed
something
either a right away poetry day (me)
or a change of space/place/and pace (kip)
or
simply a nicer/slower start to the morning (both of us)

but it now
doesn’t really feel like
morning any more