what’s one more poetry-writing challenge
on top of this poetry-writing challenge?
(i guess
tomorrow morning
we’ll see!)
what’s one more poetry-writing challenge
on top of this poetry-writing challenge?
(i guess
tomorrow morning
we’ll see!)
what to write about
what to ponder about
what to mull and meander in the mind?
~~~
[but] do i have a poem
to put
on my site
of poetries?
one from the beginning of todays’ mullings?
one from a day gone by?
no ideea…
what poems are
‘meant’
to come up
to blossom out
to emerge into fruition
full, tangible, edible fruit
of the creatively-writing tree
round your lips around them
digest them
feel them in your heart
but which
ones?
~~~
three short poems?
is that enough to quiet my inner capitalist
constantly telling me i’m not enough
unless i
produce
produce
produce?
rest is a thing
it’s a damn revelation
in a society that only supports
working oneself to the bone
burning the candle at both ends
living fast and
whooshing out
(and/but why the sudden need
desire
pull
to consume as well?
why do i just want to be looking at
vintage trousers
on etsy
and buying more gifts
for my spouse?
…’tis the season?)
apparently
it doesn’t fully feel like
‘the holidays’
until there’s some Trans-Siberian Orchestra
blasting out of my
tiny laptop
speakers.
~~~
all my ideas
fled my mind
the moment i sat down
to write
~~~
coffee
coffee
spread through me
awaken my speed,
my creativity,
my me
draped in my mom’s old sweater
struggling with the desire
to, instead of doing things all day,
simply watch others do things all day…
(maybe i just need some food first)
((turns out all i needed was food and a nap))
there’s an ache
in old poems
that i think i’ve lost…
the words falling out of my brain
hold in them a pain
of trying to find some sort of connective
tissue
through
to others in this stupid experiment we call
human
existence
and what happens when everything becomes
happenstance
what becomes of the worlds words once i built
brick by brick
letter by letter
when the better /half/ of me
plays into capitalism
to make our lives a bit
stabler
i read old
lines
older
stanzas
and a common thread appears
a subtle but strong undercurrent
to understand and be understood
(and might i still have that
now?)
beats
plus
birds
wake me up
put me in the mood
to be a person today.
~~~
just because i seem to have
lost my love for morning writing
does not mean
that i have lost all my love
for just writing
(maybe i just need a nap
like yesterday)
~~~
what to do
in a morning
where one feels so off
but so close
to being
On?
~~~
the birds in my music
meld
with the birds outside
and i am reminded
of
Costa Rica
~~~
maybe someday
i’ll listen to music again
maybe someday
i’ll put together playlists upon playlists upon playlists
maybe someday
i’ll know exactly what i want to listen to
maybe someday
maybe someday…
~~~
the cat stares
at nothing
(or is it a ghost?)
alert
eyes huge
but alas
she turns away before
i can write a whole poem
about her
stance
go to bed late
in order to relax at least a little
while awake
(after tough, tough decisions are made)
wake up early
in order to get your spouse
out the door
off to work
(in person)
finish some chores
accomplish some goals
take care of the every-day to-do things
and then
NAP
in order to wake up
cuddled with your dog,
splashed with streaks of sunlight,
rainbows dancing all around the room
floating over your skin,
feeling like this is a Day,
not a trial, a burden, a slog
(and then,
write
it
out.)
i’m feeling
settled
[not settling]
comfortable
in my own skin
in my place in life
content.
this is not an emotion i am familiar with
at all
but it’s nice to know it can come to me
every once in a while
(and maybe, just maybe,
this settled/comfort/contentment,
can propel me towards my next
endeavor.)
~~~
i feel like
i don’t do
Morning Pages/
Morning Poetry
the same as i used to,
but that could be ok.
maybe there are days when i need
to write/poem it out,
and those are the days when my word count
lands solidly into the mid-three digits,
and there are a few days when i know what i need to say
and one short poem
is all i need for the morning,
and then there are days like today
when i don’t need to write to figure things out,
but i’d like to write to
have something written
(and also because i’m figuring out how to be awake)
so i suppose
it’s all
alright.
~~~
someday
i’ll count all the hobbies
i’ve acquired
over the years
(and those with supplies
but no real forward movement)
but for today
i’ll say
i’m happy i have a spouse
who keys into my ever shifting hobbies
(and also flits in and out of their own)
so soon, this house will be filled with
wood whittling projects
and perhaps even a soldering pencil!
shorter time for
Morning Poetry
equals
more time for
Family Hangouts!
(but i still need the Morning Poetry time
to be able to be a person
among Family)
getting up
doing things
talking about
doing…
(
do i still
do
the way i
did
the way i wish
i
did
[in my mind]?
)