Like I've said many times, I'm not a morning person.
But what is a non-morning person to do when he wakes up around five o'clock ... wide awake ... with a thought buzzing through his mind?
Well ... I lay there for a while ... watched the clock unscrolling the crawling minutes ... then reached for the small light I keep on the table beside the bed ... found a pencil ... and my multi-colored notepad (thank you, Michelle) in the shape of the letter B ... and started writing.
What I wrote is barely decipherable ... now that I'm fully awake ... and it's far from becoming a poem, but someday it might. I'll keep it, try to break the code, try to decide what it's trying to say to me.
And if it does turn into a poem, I'll feel compelled to share it with somebody ... I always have that "look what I found" feeling when something I've written does seem to make sense ... not "look at what I did" ... never that ... and when I share it with somebody, that somebody is likely to be a poetry editor.
I always treasure that second opinion ... especially on those rare occasions when the decision goes in my favor.
But if it doesn't ... well, I speak of that circumstance in today's poem:
MERE WORDS
You, my children,
offspring of my mind,
are going forth
into an imperfect world,
where you will be judged
by strangers. I hope
they will listen
and treat you kindly,
perhaps accept you
as their own.
If not, please return
and we shall comfort
each other.
©
1997(originally published in Writer's Journal)
***
Today's word:
comfortAfterthoughts ... in response to your comments:
Thank you for starting off my day with that comment, Featheredpines. I'm sorry about the hours being most difficult ... and I did note the time at which you paid your visit ... but I'm glad you found the "cool breeze on a hot day" by stopping by. It's always rewarding to know that someone did find a bit of calm ... perhaps even comfort ... in pausing here to listen to the words ... something, I hope, like listening to the music of water dancing along in a shaded stream.
1 comment:
Your entries and poety are like a cool breeze on a hot day. Many times I come here for a cool breeze when hours are most difficult, even if I don't always note. I truly was delighted to see you were still writing.
I know that odd hour need to write - for I've just done so myself, unable to sleep :)
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