30 Days of Poetry: Day 30: THEN

Day 30: Then

This is my last word. My last poem, at the end of this 30 days of pushing something out. Around about the middle it felt like I would never keep finding inspiration. I felt that I would find some words that were absolute duds. Or that my brain would just become blank. But, surprisingly, with a little faith in myself and what kind of creative power I have, it's all there. All I need. And I can ask for it, anytime.

So, taken from Argyll Folk Tales by Bob Pegg, from page 45 about the hero Finn McCool, I bring you such a small everyday word that really stitches together all of our lives. And all of our stories.


And then...

This word bookmarks the Past;
slides an old envelope between the pages of your history,
that much read book with dog-eared pages.
It can be a flash of sweetness on your tongue
as you recall a ray of sunshine from your childhood.
It can be a closed door
on a memory of pain
a promise of Never Again

It becomes a transition

It moves the story along
The child, eager to tell their story, uses it as the road forward,
footsteps to fill,
as they find their way along storytelling's twisting path
“and then this happened, and THEN this next thing happened...”
From it's rather mundane shape
anything can emerge:
disasters and dragons
unexpected love
death and birth
a universe unfolding

So, we began with Once
and moved into a journey
whether accepted or not,
calling out to us,
and have found ourselves in troubled lands
with a few precious possessions wrapped in a fraying hankerchief
and

Then

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

April 6th: Transparent

Transparent Put your brush down woman leave your transparency exposed pause your paints of uncertainty  just for this day welcome the sun through this open face to cast rainbows against the wall you look to fall in love with another like you, seeking to love yourself through another lens
Read more

April 13th: Song of Wet Stone

Song of Wet Stone When the rain comes to the shore, watch the rocks they transform revealing their shy colors rust reds and treasure map browns sea teals and leaf greens watch the rocks watch the girl stumbling slowly along the shore eyes seeking picking up, greeting loving each stone in turn slick stones, slipping into her pocket treasure her hands roll the new precious things round and around blessing the seeker And then! one large stone twisting blue of the sea dancing kelp green this is a mermaid's heart, it sings from the deepest deep mine! Thinks the girl, rolling it between cold pale hands and then she notices between her fingertips, sheltered from the rain the wet skin of this mermaid gem begins to dry the wild life evaporating away leaving grey blue grey green grey stone shock and bewilderment out come the rest from her pockets all warm and dry their magic gone Watch, as this child sullenly
Read more

Just A Small Town Girl...

I bet you knew which song I was implying there. The forlorn vocals and searching lyrics filling your mind for a moment, turning your head into a radio. Or not. Makes things easier in this post if you just go along with whatever I say. :) It's been a while. Pull up a chair. I'll catch you up: If you missed the reference, I'm the small town girl who has jumped in the huge pond of Seattle. Headfirst, it feels like. Off of the really high diving board. I love it! Most of the time. I'm surrounded by very talented people, who are very kind to me. I'm pretty damn lucky, actually.  But what followed me to the city is this sense of ineptitude. The talent pool is stunning around here! And so intricate, with the many social tide pools and gossip eddies. (had to continue that analogy). And people are BEAUTIFUL around here. Tall, and chiseled, and well-groomed (most of the time). Even the women. This is not hyperbole, there must be something in the water, I swear.
Read more