Today marks the second day of National Poetry Writing Month.
An invitation has been extended to poets to ‘stop and smell the roses’ (sigh and yum). …To celebrate and practice their craft by writing a poem a day for the whole month. There will be prompts (for instance today’s is to write from the quote the Bibliomancy Oracle provides… a most fun prompt thank you NaPoWriMo) and poetry writers have been asked to submit their sites and blogs if they wish to participate.
I’m giving it a go (?!%|>**) and so for the next month I will be posting a poem a day here at Wonder.Meant.
…Today’s poem was found in the watery part of my morning ritual as much as in its aftermath, and in an inspiring conversation had.
I gym and swim around 6.30am, a time that is quiet and aching with so much potential it’s hard not to be inspired (or at the very least, to be thoughtful in the most peaceful of ways). Often when I leave the pool the sun is just beginning to rise. Rain, hail or shine this moment is always breathtaking; and I mean this in the true sense of the word, often having to pull over on route home to pause and sit in Wonder. Meant.
Sometimes I even take a few photos, and as you can see from this mornings activity from myself and other Melbourne artists such as HelloKateBerry on Instagram, the sunrise mixing with an impending storm was
Before I get to my poem for the day, I wish as often as I can to share insights that have found me. Yesterday I shared here on this blog an insight into poetry one of my ten year old students had given in class. Today I will share part of a more private conversation I had with someone I love very much.
He used the word ‘..distilled’ to describe something that poetry is.
Distilled is defined as:
1. to purify (a liquid) by heating it so that it vaporizes, then cooling and condensing the vapour and collecting the resulting liquid.
2. to extract the essential meaning or most important aspects of.
As a lover of words, as a someone who can quite literally get turned on, feel sensorially titillated by the feelings and images just one word used well can create, I was quite moved in this quiet evening moment. A thank you therefore to this person as much as my morning ritual for this mornings …poetry.
in the dark.
smooth waters offering a
distillation of days past
disgruntled sleeps aching with perplexion
and a body heat
in this quiet place
…Caress’s that see the hairs on her skin prickle up
and hands finding places untouched.
She aches at the moment the sun begins to groan with the days
Twilight marking the end of this silent affair.
standing over the dribbles
soaked bathers matted against the floor
she begins the longing
for tomorrows early a.m.