Spirit in the sky (silent retreat – day three)

Isn’t it the way?

When you look for answers within

the real world reflects

the truth that’s held therein.

Just tuning in to nature

hearing chirps of nearby birds,

admiring springtime blooms –

then clouds leave me lost for words.

inktuition angel wings

 As if to show some hidden depths –

something intoxicatingly amazing –

the clouds command the pre-dusk sky

and stretch their angel wings.

inktuition spirit in the sky Then strips of spirit send their light

to the curious land of open hearts.

The dignity of cloud and field and sky

make me in awe to be a part.

A poem for the elusive brown bunnies (silent retreat – day two)

I’m sure they’re teasing me

as they chase across green

always in twos, hoppity hop.

The silence for me has been non-stop.

The scampering brown bunnies

think it’s terribly funny

to let me think I can reach them.

The silence has yet to reveal its gems.

It’s my will against theirs,

and they’re faster then hares.

All I’ve seen so far is the fluff of their tails.

The silence resolutely maintains its veil.

A poem: on silent retreat – day one

I was told to shut up as soon as I could talk,

so finding my voice has been tough.

There was never space to have my own thoughts

Never mind express what I love.

Now I’ve chosen to close myself from the world

and turn much deeper within.

A few days in silence, what will unfurl?

At least a break from my daily din.

What will I find, when my ego’s been stripped,

when I read from my sacred scroll:

will I find scribble or beautiful script

in the cavern of my heart and soul?

Why a poem a day keeps procrastination at bay

I loved taking part in National Poetry Writing Month (NaPoWriMo). OK, so I didn’t manage the full 30 poems in 30 days, but I did post 26 out of the 30 ( I started two days late anyway).

I’m proud of what I achieved. I rocked up at the page pretty much every day for a month and wrote rhyming words about something front of mind that day.

Here’s what I learned from taking part in NaPoWriMo:

  1. I committed to something publicly. Therefore I felt duty bound to honour that commitment. 
  2. Poems are fantastic at capturing a tiny fragment of time. 
  3. I wrote poems about completely random things, like my kitchen skylight and a scarecrowess I photographed at a farm.
  4. I had no idea what I was going to write about until I sat down with my laptop.
  5. I only like writing poems that rhyme. They make me feel held and contained.
  6. The discipline of writing a poem kept my thoughts and feelings focused.
  7. I didn’t do any censoring. I just let the poems flow. 
  8. I wrote for fun and challenge, not for any other reason.
  9. I never found excuses not to write the poems. The only days I missed were times I was busy with family stuff and nowhere near my laptop.
  10. Today feels odd not writing in rhyme.
  11. Sometimes I ran out of ideas but still wrote a poem anyway.
  12. I love the discipline and shape of the poems I wrote. 
  13. I noticed that my repetitive themes are about shadow and death. Existential issues evidently emerging.
  14. I will continue to write poems as the mood takes me. I do anyway, but I have exercised a muscle that will need to be used and stretched regularly.
  15. Hidden pieces of me are now being seen. The act of revealing is where the healing happens.
  16. Other bloggers liked my poems. How generous the writing community is.
  17. Some of my poems got favourited on Twitter. How humbling that was.
  18. I felt resentment some days, but wrote anyway.
  19. I feel I have grown as a person.
  20. Procrastination didn’t even get a look in. If you want to get writing, get poem-ing.

Thank you, NaPoWriMo!

A poem for a darling deadline

Where would I be without you:

lost in the ticks of time?

Would I be frittering all my chances,

day-dreaming of stuff divine?

Where would I find my courage

without the pressure you pose?

Would I be delving deeper within

making my soul its wishes disclose?

How would I manifest my heart

or place my work in the sun?

Without you, darling deadline,

nothing would ever get done.

A writer’s poem for her blankie

You’re my big swathe of cuddle,

what I missed as a babe.

You’ve cossetted me through

the cool and the macabre.

When the snow’s outside

you’re an obvious choice.

You’re generous, holding,

you’re the thing I rejoice.

But you transcend all seasons

especially in spring.

You let me feel safe

when my words are growing.

How could I write

so much brave raw stuff

without my cuddly cocoon

and knowing I am enough.

A poem for my kitchen skylight

 There’s a window in my kitchen

With a big diagonal skylight.

I sit under it to eat, drink, read,

Do my work and write invites.

I mostly don’t know the glass is there

It lets in light, it keeps me dry.

But at night it’s the window on the world

My own framed, private night sky.

I like it best when the rain comes to dance

With tapping, cha-cha drops.

The skylight turns into a stage

With a pitter-patter round the clock.

A poem for a mummy i knew

A mummy I knew had a cute little girl,

Always acting good, not rocking her world.

A mummy I knew was busy as hell

Her little girl in front of the TV did dwell.

A mummy I knew always checked her phone

Day or night, under her pillow it droned.

A mummy I knew stressed all around.

Her heart a deep freeze, her forehead a frown.

A mummy I knew woke up to what she’d lost.

Her little girl was growing up fast.

One last chance to melt the frost?