Next

I'm still in my poem phase.  Picked another word from my morning pages to write about.  For more information on this writing exercise, check out this post.  Here's my latest poem from my week of Morning Pages.

Next

Around the corner

over the hump

after this bend

it'll be next.

Next is the needy one

the question-maker

the bored.

Next likes plans and checklists

watches and alarms.

Next remains on its toes.

Anxiety-ridden worrier.

Next pretends to not know Now.

Now is the rebel,

the eye of the storm.

Now won't beg for your attention,

time is too precious.

Now is your center, your breath.

Now is the gentle tear in your eye

that burst of laughter from your gut.

Now doesn't rush, it makes every second count

for those willing to take the ride.

Feeling Young Again

I'm a little late in my personal challenge to post a poem a week from my journal.   Here's my original post explaining the challenge.

So once again I feel the need to add that I don't consider myself a poet, but wanted to shake up my morning journal writing and start writing in my blog again.  I'm having fun with a challenge to myself of writing a daily poem taken from random words I see in my journal.  I'm picking one of those poems every week to post on my blog.  Here's the latest.

Grass

between my toes

bring memories of summers past

bicycles, popsicles

adventure at every turn.

goofy grins, kool aid mustaches

battle scars, "tag you're it!"

do you carry it with you?

the smell of fresh cut lawn,

hot tar on the driveways

sprinklers to chase

feeling like you're tricking the world

to stay up past your bedtime

the sun's still out!

Not a moment to waste

imagination on fire

following a butterfly could take over hours

do you carry it with you?

do you remember to remove your shoes,

to allow the grass between your toes?

can you come out to play?

Morning Thougts

I just updated the appearance of my blog yesterday.  I was inspired to figure out some of the html, blah, blah, blah. Anyhow, I think it turned out alright.  It's kind of like cleaning your room when you have an assignment due.  I always did that in college.  Before I could get started on any work, I had to clean my room.  I'm going to attempt to recharge my blog, but before that starts, I wanted to "clean it up" first.  Some people may call it procrastinating, I like to think of it as a nice shower.

For over a year I've been keeping a journal.  A friend introduced me to the book, The Artist's Way.  The book has you go on a course over three of four months.  Part of it is writing 3 pages every morning right when you get up.  It has become such a part of me that if I skip it, I feel a little off.  As you can imagine, sometimes the daily posts can get pretty boring and the same.  

Two weeks ago, my friend, Alecia Whitaker's young adult novel, Wildflower, came out.  I grabbed it on the first day and just finished it yesterday.  She's an excellent writer and I recommend getting it, no matter what your age.  The point I'm trying to get to, is that her main character keeps a songwriting journal.  And while I'm not trying to write songs, I thought maybe writing poetry would help spice up my Morning Pages for the month.  

Feeling the need to tell you, dear reader, that I know absolutely nothing about poetry, I've decided to choose one of my poems from each week to include in this revamped blog. So, don't judge too harshly, I'm just having fun.

This first poem I titled Morning.

MORNING

Is it already?

Just one more minute.

Awake to appreciate

the feel of cotton against my face.

my Morning lying next to me

still dreaming of the night.

In the quiet

exploring new worlds

discovering new lands

content alone

to be the first

a badge of honor.

The birds have known all along.

They tell me of battles won,

bring news from other lands

all in a mornings work.

We gossip

I, with my coffee

them, from their perch

much to catch up on

I'm not the first.