The Poetry Was There

The Poetry Was There

Lines, lyrical lay in the gravel grinding
The sounds of a pilgrimage
Returning home, always homeward
When wheels roll round and find a spot to stop
The door swings open
Sweet poetry
Steps through the portal
A mother’s exhale, safely home
She writes a love poem on her heart
Aren’t the roads fraught
With danger, after all
Each homecoming calls for celebration
Explodes with hope
The kind the psalmists wrote

Verses vibrate in the Maytag’s roar
Viciously extricating soil and sand
From jeans that have seen toil
Walked the halls of schools
Where poetry has died.

And run the race from dawn to dusk
Of bringing home the bacon and
Taking out the trash
Running the good race
Throughout the state
And sat beside the fire’s dancing flames
Blue and orange
Eavesdroppers on the reparte
Evening exchange
Of monologue and dialogue and diatribe
Each one’s story to be heard
And poetry is there.

It was threaded loop on loop, in the reflection
On a dirty window pane
Of dancing branches
Doing  jitter bug and pirouette
The twist and turns like prima ballerina
Limb on limb
Held lines of rhyming poetry
Shadow and branch, a duet in the air
The leaf, the limb, the branch, the twig
Every move echoed in the light
Reflection on Mac’s screen
In the cold and frozen air
A single cardinal shivers in his
Coat so red
Poetry hung in the yard
Hauntingly recording winter
Like mockingbird remembers what he’s heard

It is always there
Quiet observer
Or participant

And when the pillows catch
The sleepy heads
As they land with heaviness

Seeking rest
The best is written
By the night
The walls may talk
In rhyme and tell
Of all they see
What happens
In the home

Is no less than
Beowulf
Hope is the thing with feathers
I know why the caged bird sings
Piano
And the rest

Yes, poetry was there
Inside the four walls
Verses preserve
Living moments
Alive
My life
My poetry
Is there.

Joining Tweetspeak Poetry and Glynn Young for Poetry At Work Day and a “Poetry At Work” Book Club

and Lyli for Thought Provoking Thursday

The Reinvention of Cliches

The Reinvention of Cliches

Blow with me new life into the old stale words
Jump start the broken-down rust heap on the side
Of the road
Propped up on bricks
That is language we left for dead

Re-energize the turn of phrase that is stale
As an old loaf of white bread
That lost its twisty tie-y top
Corners blueing
Left for dead

And just because it’s cliche
Is it false
I would stand on the corner of Broad and Main
Placard in hand
Proclaiming the degrees to which
I loathe cliche

Pitiful they were in my sight
Perhaps It is time to
Re-think
Some of my favorites
Need a second chance.

Starting today
With thinking outside the box
And low hanging fruit
And the tip of the iceberg

Some of these are as old as the hills
I know
And I am frightened to death to even
Suggest to you that
Every cloud has a silver lining
Or that time heals all wounds

Only time will tell if there is
Merit to this

Maybe on second thought
Lemons from lemonade should stay
Dead and buried.

Maybe all bets are off
Afterall
On this idea

On second thought
Maybe I
Always look on the bright side
And am blinded by the light

When really what I had in mind
Was saving the phrase

Simplicity is the ultimate sophistication
And keep it simple stupid
And simple is best
And necessity really is the mother of invention

And then again
Maybe banging one’s head
Against a brick wall
Is better left for dead.

Along with other
Blasts from the past

I was wrong
To try to build a better mousetrap
Hoping the world would  beat a path to my door
I cry uncle
And crawl sheepishly

Back to the drawing board.

The Door

Doors with cut out crosses

The Door

How lovely that you walked across the street
Knocked, so politely at my door
As I went
Walking ’round the block
My dogs and

I
Wasn’t even there
To greet you
But I returned
To knock
I almost skipped
To the front door of your white house
Joyously
I find you there
A little cat and mouse
We played.

How lovely that you live across from me
Poet
Lady Wisdom, friend,
Inspiration
Passion for poetry goes between your house
And mine
Giving  gifts of boxes and origami
Laying them gently into my hand
Your words like honey drop, drip, drop
I lap up every syllable I hear, I understand
You

Don’t stop living two doors down
Life is richer when you come to town

My friend I pray that it will be

A good long while
Before we see
Grief
Come knocking at our

Door.
Swing wide the gates of freedom
Between you and me
And sweet poetry.

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Joining Tweetspeak Poetry today for their poetry writing prompt “Doors and Passageways.”

One Word 365 – Go

For a lover of words, choosing one word is a challenge. Well theoretically it is a challenge. But when the word chooses you, well that changes things. Switches it up a bit. If I recall correctly, which I am apt not to do, last year’s word, “Art”, chose me. Well loosely speaking.

There is a mutuality to choosing a word. One feels drawn to the word. The word seems to fit and you and the word enter into some sort of agreement to co-exist for 365 days. There is some “self-identifying” that goes into it. For me, I think I will be called to “go” more. There is a mystery, a calling and a trust. Go and I. Locked arms for the year.

Metaphorically speaking. As far as I know, “Go” has no limbs.

Choosing “a word” for the year is being done by many bloggers and writers. The idea is catching on. As best I can tell. I only know that I kind of like the idea. It seems to give me a focal point. A way to focus my life, my writing. It grounds my writing in some way without being legalistic and boxed in. A gentle guide, perhaps. Providing a benchmark. A roadmap. A guidepost.

(Alece Ronzino, @aleceronzino on twitter, and fellow-blogger at Grit and Glory dot com is the brainchild). I thought you should know.

It is a bit counter-intuitive to sum up a year at the beginning of the year. But I like the concept and something, in retrospect, about last year’s word “Art’ did define my year in many ways.

One Word 365 has an expansive website which I found interesting to explore. You may want to visit it too. And be inspired to identify your own word.

So for now I am at peace with where I will go with “Go” in 2014. I feel the impetus of a verb behind me, propelling gently my writing life. Last year’s noun suited last year. And helped me focus on the art of living and creating. 2013 offered many opportunities and my writing got up and went places. Exciting places, far away places, intriguing places.

So maybe “Go” makes sense and in fact is not as simple or odd as it may appear. “Go” whispers the beginnings of “God”. It hints and reminds me of the Divine. Turns me and points me like a spiritual compass before I even actually move.

And my #oneword365 is active and passive. I find peace in that too. I can intentionally begin my days with “Go”. Focused on movement of the heart or body.  And though I may not leave to travel to far flung places,  traveling only on the page with my writing, I am still active and moving.

“Go” reminds me that I should stay less often. If you have read here for even a little while you may recall that I create wide margins, habitually, regularly, by design. I am comforted by wide margins.

But I may need to say yes to going more often. Exploring. Seeking. Challenging myself. Meeting new people, places, and things in the going. My life feels pulled ever so gently into more “yeses” to going. To risking. To bravery and boldness in many aspects of my art and my just living.

Thank you for going with me. For walking along here through my poetry and prose. For listening to my noticing, my pondering, and for simply reading my words. It is an honor to “go” through life with others in this community.

To look for God and all his glory in the cracks and crevices, the folds of the day, the nuances of life and in the everyday daily. Together.

I am dreaming of going a few very special places this year. Lean in close and I will share one dream….that of joining a  meet-up in New York in April with my friends at Tweetspeak Poetry. And I am anticipating some surprises along the way. There are always plenty of them, aren’t there.

But mostly I am at peace just getting going daily. Loving well. Living well. Writing. Always writing. There is a book or two inside me that is just asking to be written. I hope I show up at my desk and actually go about writing a book in 2014. To that end, I am beginning a workshop on Monday with Jane Friedman. I wanted to add like ten exclamation points to the end of that sentence, but I thought it would be well, over-kill. Nine maybe, not ten.

You may notice things a little quieter here, or a little louder. I may be holed up in my Tweetspeak Poetry Workshop, busily trying to improve my art. Or I may be running back here to share with you. Either way, I hope to be challenged and changed.

Happy 2014 friends. I may not thank you enough. But I am grateful to have you here.

You may consider joining me on instagram, twitter @graceappears or “like” my facebook page. All that would be lovely if you’d like to come “go” with me there.

GO Untitled

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