Waiting for it

standing up
to write a poem
at 2 in the
morning
waiting for it to
knock me off my feet
back into bed

Being Open to Being Filled

I have started to practice enough listening
to sense when the words are about to appear
it's become another sense
a natural knowing
like when you need to use the bathroom
or get sick
but nicer and different
more hopeful
anticipating a filling of space
a gush of words
birthing a poem out of the ether

june 11/15

~~~~~~~~

all the people
in one bed
the cats
in a basket

trying to make an
empty house
feel
full

Courting the Familiar - Writing Down the Bones

it has happened again. smoothly. gracefully this time.
it's not like i was prepared - no paper no pencil as the view inspired the voice that brings the words to the surface that make my poems breathe.
but this time was different.
i spoke up. i asked for help. and i received from a child a piece of paper and a found pen - literally found on the still frozen playground.
and so it began again.
like knowing your gas tank just needs gas in it to work.
i'm working again.

________________

recorded while on duty:

sun shines over/on the icy horizon
trees puffed up like fur on
a dog
left outside to find its own
breakfast

trees huddled around the frozen field
kids skipping beside snowbanks
sad remains in the background - abandoned snowmen
their carcasses melted into the ground
returning to landscape

my fingers are turning into
icicles as I record these images
before they melt into memory

soccer ball chipping
across the frozen field
stoic pilons frozen in space

hoodies barely able to
contain body heat
long enough to
release the ball

March 25, 2015
S. V.


inspired by reading Natalie Goldberg's "Writing Down the Bones"
and feeling the ripple effect of SARK's wordplay:
Practice
Love
And
Yielding
and by my husband who has started to archive/record all lyrics with music to keep them alive and breathing.


my next bold move to continue the courting is to put a notebook and pen into a pocket of each of my coats!
:)

Making Fossils

Making Fossils

I’m getting old(er)
I choose to leave the corny words in the couch
With the lost change
Hoping they will bring childish delight
To someone else
When they are rediscovered



{Feb 2009}