Poetry Project, V. 9.0, Day 9

Ahhh, there is very little that inspires like the addition of a new horse in the stable.  yeah, for all of those who remember, I really enjoy riding a bike.  Virtually any bike, really, and I have been wanting to try getting out of my normal realm of road biking and get into a little bit of the off-road stuff.  It will be nice to get into a new discipline, and I find myself much more excited for it than even I originally anticipated.  Naturally, I tried it out immediately, and wow, how different!  It's been a while since I have had that much fun on a bike, and still got a good little workout.  Let the fun begin!!

Re-Training

you think you have it,

the way you have to move, 

the fit is dialed in just right

and you've adjusted -

it's like coming home.

then you make a change - 

something new, 

a twist in the pattern,

move your hands apart, 

sit up,

the geometry is wrong, 

different,

it doesn't rock the same way, 

the balance is different,

the response is challenging.

suddenly, there is new life - 

everything feels just a bit strange,

but it feels good, too -

it feels - 

like living again.

Thanks for reading,

Me

Poetry Project, V. 9.0, Days 7 and 8

Well, it took a week before it happened, but I missed the first day.  When this happens, for those of you who have been playing along, you, the readers, get a TWO-FER day!!!  Sometimes, you even get a three-fer, because stuff happens, but hey, there we are!  So today, there are a couple of things of note that sort of inspired me:  The first is my dad's birthday.  He's a fantastic gent, who's taught me a lot over the years, and I'm sure he's got a lot more to teach me, yet, and I am looking forward to it all.  So if you know him, feel free to give him a shout-out.  He needs it.  Anyway, he inspires me - so it's only fitting that a poem comes from him.

Looking Through Your Eyes

it was a long time ago
when i looked through years of photos
to put them together
as a present.
the hardest part was finding pictures of you,
because you were always the one behind the camera,
but i saw the life you built,
through the eyes of your camera lens,
and saw the way you looked at family,
at life,
at God,
at all things on this earth,
and through it,
came to know the man
i looked up to then
and still do today.


The next one is a bit strange.  In truth, I don't know what's behind it.  I can't point to a thing and say, "yup, that's it."  Some poems are like that in this challenge - they get written because that's the challenge - to write every day.  There's no inspiration in particular, but then, when I sit down to write, suddenly there's something.  Sometimes, it's a good something, and sometimes, it's just words on a page.  For me, these are sometimes the most fun, because I do not know what I'm going to get at any time.

Late Nights

sometimes,
i like to stay up late and
listen to the quiet,
the gentle breathing of the world as it sleeps.
i wonder what it dreams,
what hopes and fears it has,
and if, in the silence of those nights,
it talks to the few
who are awake enough to listen.

Thanks for reading,

Me

Poetry Project, V. 9.0, Day 6

OK, so if you like Victorian macabre, then I suggest the show on Netflix called "Penny Dreadful."  Without going into too much detail, it's a delightful mixture of all your old favorites, from vampires, to werewolves, demonic possession, and of course, the Frankenstein Monster.  Watching an episode tonight, I heard what is perhaps the best screenwriting moment I have seen in a long time.  Victor Frankenstein has his creation, and is ready to kill the monster.  The monster, though, who has become quite civilized, says the following:

"What dreams I had of my mate. Of another being, looking into these eyes, upon this face, and recoiling not. But how could that happen? For the monster is not in my face, but in my soul. I once thought that if I was like other men, I would be happy and loved. The malignance has grown, you see, from the outside in, and this shattered visage merely reflects the abomination that is my heart. Oh, my creator, why... Why did you not make me of steel and stone? Why did you allow me to feel? I would rather be the corpse I was than the man I am."

It was simply beautiful to watch.  Sure, it was meant to evoke emotion and sympathy for the monster, and of course, begs the question of who the real monster is.  You could "AP English Class" this to death, and you would still only scratch the surface of the scene, let alone the entire Frankenstein story.  That all said and done - it was all too brief a moment, and yet, in its short length, was absolutely perfect.

It made me think, though, how often we have found ourselves hurting, and how often we have wished that we simply could not feel.  How many times have we said, 'Why me?"  When all we wanted to do was just to not feel.  It's that thought that brings about today's offering.

I Wished a Heart
i wished a heart, once,
that could not feel
nor cry,
that functioned only as a heart should,
its purpose clear and direct,
to pump only blood,
and be naught used for else.

i wished a heart, once,
as cold as steel,
and as sharp,
the could be strong
when facing all things,
and would possess a clarity of purpose.

i wished a heart, once,
that buried pain away
and lock it up,
chained in place,
never to go out and risk the pain,
to be content with being alone.

all these i wished into the heart i sought,
and thought God mean for not providing them,
until i realized the mercy
of not being given the heart i wished.


Thanks for reading,

Me

Poetry Project, V.9.0, Day 5

Inspiration - it's a funny thing.  It can come at odd times, and in odd ways.  I've always loved that scene in "Dead Poets' Society" where Robin Williams character, John Keating, is trying to get the shy kid, Todd Anderson, to look inside himself and find the words there.  He teaches him by putting questions to him, in a rapid-fire way, and gets an image from the boy, of - and this has always been a favorite description - a "sweaty-toothed madman."  What an image that portrays!  The lesson was about asking those questions and going from that inner place, learning to trust it, learning to believe in it, and letting it run a little free, on occasion.  That is the essence of inspiration.  Learning to trust that deep-seeded drive, the secret longing of expression that we all have inside us - that is what takes us from simple words to the art and soul of poetry.  So, where does your inspiration come from?  What pulls it from you, and when are you most alive?  What will each of us find when we explore it?
It's something to think about.

Today's inspiration is from an incident I was able to bear witness to, and it was at once both mundane and extraordinary.  I won't go into details, but it stayed with me.


The Crying Girl

she doesn't understand, yet,
that it doesn't matter,
that it's all just preparation for the things to come,
it's not worth the energy,
the tears,
the fighting against the pressure.

she's been taught to stand proud,
be strong,
be better,
be faster,
be more,
to not let the world touch her.

but there she is,
her face a mess,
feeling low,
weak,
unsure,
unable,
a ruined thing.

she cannot see the lesson, yet,
but she will, one day,
when she is facing the same thing through older eyes,
and there is another,
fraught with stress,
feeling out-of-place.

then she'll see
and understand,
as i have today,
when i am reminded of
a phone call i once made
and someone else
did the same for me.




Thanks for reading,

Me

Poetry Project, V. 9.0, Day 4

Sometimes, poetry can be serious and heavy stuff.  Everyone who creates poetry in some fashion or other wants to be remembered as having made an impact on the cultural landscape of their generation, to be known as having made a literary contribution towards a greater sense of being, to convey the gut-felt emotions that accompany the social and political climate in which we live.  I am no different - it would be great to be thought of as having that impact, to be known for the words I write.

But that's not all life has to offer.  Life is silly, and funny, and full of strange phrases that hit you in a way you weren't expecting.  It's misheard song lyrics and things that came out wrong - but sounded so right in our heads.

It's with this in mind that today's offering comes.  Oddly, it was during the planning for the next road trip of the year, that one of those silly moments decided to strike, and it was too much fun a phrase to not use it here - so here goes!!!



The Phrase

it started right,
a simple thing,
that came out wrong
and led to laughter,
mild hysteria, and the shared moment -
where we two could laugh and grow and play
as we planned,
a perfect brilliance of the fumbled word,
forschmuckled in an instant,
etched in fond memory then,
and spurring on the imagination to create
a permanence.
we both knew the aim,
and what happened wasn't close,
but a simple phrase let me grow to love you more,
and in these few words,
the hopes that it echoes true again,
and you can have the same experience as i,
for "bobbie socks and baby sloths"
and the glint of laughter playing on your lips
will be with me till time runs out,
a simple phrase
meaningless to others,
cherished together.




Also, for those playing along, feel free to send me challenges - meter, rhyme, subject areas - you name it!!  It's always fun to plan poetry as well as to write off the cuff!!

Thanks for reading,

Me

Poetry Project, V.9.0, Day 3

Well, here we go again - a bit late today, but you know what?  Stuff happens.  That's part of the point of this project - I find that I have to slow down and think a little more about what's going on, the things I see and hear, etc.  All too often, we find ourselves hurrying through our days.  We have to get to work on time, we have to do this, get there, be on time for this, that, or the next thing.  We are always doing something, rather than simply, "being."  Doing this project each year has enabled me to slow down a little.  While I still have to be places and do things, I find it's more of a slowing of my mind - in a positive way - to take the time to notice the littler things that maybe I don't appreciate as often as I might.  Perhaps "slowing" is the right word - "quieting" might be better.  When is the last time you quieted your mind?  Was it in prayer, or meditation?  Yoga, or other exercise?  Maybe it was just to go fishing, or to sit quietly and read a good book?  Maybe you don't get a lot of time to do it, but I highly recommend giving it a whirl - you might be surprised by what you find!

In the Quiet Moments

there is a breath i take,
just before the first stroke of the keyboard,
before the first sip of a morning coffee,
the fleeting seconds before opening the door as i head out for work.

it's just the briefest of moments,
i hardly notice it sometimes,
a preparatory pause,
issued forth each time,
in which i become silent,
still and quiet,
readying for the next step.

i added them up today -
those small times,
and empty spaces,
and found myself with more time than i thought i had,
and i spent it simply breathing,
secretly reveling in the basic joy of living -
in those small spaces between the cracks in the schedule,
in those little moments,
i find the base of self.

Thanks for reading,

Me

Poetry Project V 9.0, Day 2

Hello, kids!  For those of you playing along at home, it's day 2 of the Poetry Project!  What does that mean?  It means that it's really easy to keep going strong!

Today's piece comes from a recent walk in a cemetery in which I was able to see some really wonderful art.  I know, it's not where a lot of people go to see art, and honestly, I was incredibly surprised to find the kind of art I saw.  There was, for one thing, a lot of bronze statues.  One caught me in particular, and so, it's that one I write about today.

Woman in Bronze

there she stands,
her constant vigil
of arms outstretched,
a bird sculpted on her left,
and her right hand holding a single red rose.
it's fresh, as though she plucked it from the chilled ground -
an offering to passers-by,
or a reminder of life's too-fleeting pace?
frozen in stride,
forever chasing the next step,
she is excited,
alive,
peaceful,
happy,
content to be simply "here."

as am i.


Thanks for reading,

Me