Tag: poetry

Life

Poems from the past

Mary C

 

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I’m looking for a notebook to set out the plans for my new routine. The step by step guide to take back my old life and fix this messy house. I’m home from Florida where my thirteen-year-old and I spent several weeks social distancing in nicer weather and where there wasn’t much to do other than read, tidy, and enjoy the outdoors (and school for him). It was the best place to be in this time of quarantine. Reality hits hard now as I scan the house which is in a great deal of upheaval with the contents of the thirteen-year-old’s bedroom strewn across several rooms as the project of turning it into a teenage room looms before us. Deep breath.

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Life

Listening to the World

Mary C

Some days are harder to write than others. Some days the world becomes too much, full of harsh truth. This isn’t a time for me to write about a world gone mad, still mad after hundreds of years. I am a white woman, trying to understand how to fix it. This is how I was born and so I am listening.

Poetry is a vehicle of the truth I am looking for and so I visit Poetry Foundation’s web site each day to tune into what’s being said. I am always blown over by the words I need to hear. Today’s poem is Stay Safe by Luther Hughes and here are some of the words that hit my core:

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Why indeed does the world seem normal outside my back door, the birds singing as if no wrong exists in the world. Only the crows scream that something is amiss.

MC

Writing

Holding onto Fall

Mary C

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Ambling through a breezy park, the day is brisk
and nearly empty of others like you,
hoping to catch Fall by her tail, to keep her a bit longer.

The colors have faded or dropped to the ground
allowing sunshine into the thick wooded part of the path,
as though nature were opening herself to you.

Further along, the geese are taking in their last moments
at the foot of the man-made pond,
a last bite before they move along to destinations south.

 

Who will be left in a month when the temperatures
fall further and the fish sink to the bottom of the pond
where they’ll wait out the long winter, dreams of children with their crumbs of bread?

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MC

Writing

Refooting

Mary C

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Parenting is hard work,
so they say.
Holding a sleeping baby. Easy. Beautiful.
But the years unfold at a pace
too fast and I can’t keep up.

The boy is hungrier for
independence with each new year.
Our silly chats lose their rhythm
and my joyful morning boy disappears with
the moon.

Mornings have sharper edges now
and I’m made to grow a thicker skin.
The car rides, silent, as
I adjust to you and the new tempo
of our days.

But there are glimpses still, of this boy.
Funny, smart and kind.
Parenting is hard work,
they do say.
I am learning from it, though.

 

Writing

Table For One

Mary C

I never realized just how social eating out is until it was just me.

Alone.

On my own.

Other diners came in pairs and threes and more.

I sat among them, conversations floating

… a woman venting

… a man joking

… a son listening to his elderly mom

Did it feel like I was with everyone or no one?

I was with myself.

Alone.

On my own.

MC

Writing

Encrusted in Poetry

Mary C

Today I poked around some blogs based on today’s prompt, encrusted, and happily found some new writers to follow.  I love seeing how everyone has used the word, especially in poems because of how succinct and powerful they can be. Poetry was once very important in my life and I’ve kind of gotten away from it lately. I have a book of poems I keep at my work desk when I look for something to take me away from the sometimes boring number crunching I do. I haven’t changed it out since I’ve been here (nearly eight years) and I think it’s time for a new volume.

At home, I mostly read poetry by Shel Silverstein with my son. One of my favorite poets I discovered in high school was Edna St. Vincent Millay and after my brother died, I turned to a few of her poems over and over (Renascence mostly). Awaiting me in Florida is a book of poetry by Mary Oliver and I’m looking forward to picking it up again. I also love to read poetry aloud (even if it’s just to myself) but I feel a bit conspicuous about it when others are around.

High school and college were when I did most of my poetry writing. It helped me make sense of so many situations including heartache, grief, confusion, injustices (rarely happy occasions!). I’ve thought of trying my hand at it again but it seems my poetry mind may have dried up. I may give it a try again while I’m away on vacation next week.

I didn’t find much inspiration for my own use of encrusted, but it got me thinking about poetry again so I can be thankful for that! Thanks to all of you who have inspired me today.

MC