Friday, October 2, 2009

morning poems


This morning I read this:

Morning Poem # 1
October 1st, 2009

Seismic waves traveled
from the place where things were tilted and tossed;
where a warren of market stalls collapsed under concrete;
where yesterday mangoes and coffee, lemon grass,
coconuts, bushel baskets of gnarled ginger and sugar
were haggled for and exchanged, hands touching other hands
each belonging to someone with loved ones, or now without,to here.
The waves spread out in circles, and every pebble,
every small speck of sand moved
silently, in a minuscule way to these vibrations.
Silently, and unseen, the waves traveled through the bedrock underneath
my long dirt road and all the while I was just here
caught up in doing things that matter
only a little: spreading butter on the fat crumbs of toast
brushing cat hair from my sleeves
kissing someone in the warm cocoon of bed before the day
started at it again, with inclement weather and dirty socks and dishes in the sink,
and gratitude is hardly enough.

Christina at {mytopography} wrote this:

And I’m thinking of doing morning poems again, as a way to slip back into writing for real. I have done morning poems in the past, and have loved it when you have joined me. I’ve gotten so much this exchange. These small scraps of joy and arc and moment that we capture, first thing, before the blur of the day takes over; before the laundry piles up.

Are you in?

The rules are really simple. Show up at the page every morning and write a poem. It doesn’t have to be good. It doesn’t have to be much of anything. All it needs to be is a small handful of words tossed up to the gods; an offering, a gift, a start to the day.


I love that, don’t you?
And although I’m not bold enough to promise that I will do this on a daily basis, as I get back into writing for the love of writing, this is a quest that I may consider. And if and when I do – you will be the first to know…


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