We arrived at the cabin
on the peninsula
at Lake of the woods
the water level had dropped
3 feet since last time
The dock had to be lowered
pulled out to reach the boats
the duck boats hauled
closer to the edge of shore
It’s an Eco challenge
every time I come up here
Steve said, breathing heavy
A mystery eco-challenge, I added
because you never know
what the challenge will be
I looked over the bay
at the glistening shimmer
of the sun on the slowly rolling waves of clear and healing water
breathed in the solitude
and untethered the fraying rope
tied to the rest of the world
And I said to myself
I’ll take it.
I am participating in Poetry Friday this week being hosted by Tabatha Yeates at The opposite of indifference. Stop over to enjoy some poems or add one of your own!
Month: September 2022
An Apology to The steady arm
Do you want them both in the same arm? or not? the nurse politely asked in the dispensing of two shots one for the flu and the other covid I did not know the answer and became perplexed Did I want a shot in each arm to even out the pain? or just one to carry the burden? One arm, I replied make it the left save my writing arm at least I'd have one good arm so I thought Afterwards, I felt bad and apologized to my left arm for giving the right arm more privilege when later upon my writing time I realized It was the left that held the notebook steady so the right could do her dance across the pages. draft sd 2022 Writing and sharing a poem a day ~ "The writing is inhaling and the sharing is exhaling. They don't have to be good, they just have to be true." ~Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer
To the woman who remained on my tail through the round about and down hwy 59
I can see you, you know Your big SUV pressed against the bumper of my petite Malibu the rage on your face perched up high behind that steering wheel the size of a hula hoop I may have taken that round about at the pace of a sloth on a late Friday afternoon But you see ~ I was taking a sip of my hot cup of coffee in my heavy new mug I was admiring from my mother for my birthday and being struck by the dawn peeking just over the horizon at precisely the same time and the sky was a piercing blue while Padraig O Tuama read me a poem on my podcast with the Irish in his voice. . . and the speed was not on my mind. So forgive me. But, I'll tell ya If you do it again I'll step on my brakes in hopes you can see. Writing a poem a day - they don't have to be good, they just have to be true. ~Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer
when i die, let them write about my mistakes~
When I die, let them write about all the mistakes I've made. Let them mention how I failed at keeping the house clean, or finishing things that I could not make a garden grow nice vegetables like my sister. Or spell. Tell them I loved to write but those words and their spelling. . . Tell them I sometimes paid a bill late and had late fees, and overdue library books and that I did not always answer the phone when it rang so I put it on silent to not hear it ring Let them mention that I've damaged cars by filling them up with oil and let black smoke trail behind me and couldn't run a TV remote or the VCR, or pretty much anything with buttons. They can note how my teenage children snuck out of the house at night and I never knew - some mother I am to not have a clue Let them say I was tired, or lazy, or daydreamed a lot, or whatever it looked like to you. I don't care. Tell them whatever you want But do let them know that I cared and I loved the best and that messing up was part of the plan. This poem was inspired by Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer's poem: AFTER MY FRIEND PHYLLIS SHOWS ME THE NEW YORK TIMES OBITUARY HEADLINE: 'LOU MICHAELS, ALL-PURPOSEM PLAYER, DIES AT 80, MISSED KICKS IN '69 SUPER BOWL'. Writing and sharing a poem a day ~ "The writing is inhaling and the sharing is exhaling. They don't have to be good, they just have to be true." ~Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer
A nudge from My Poet Guide, Rosemerry
Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer has done quite a number on me this month, my 57th Birthday Month. I chose Rosemerry as my Poet Guide for the month of September. As the last week of my Birthday Month draws nearer, she has been nudging me to come out from behind my notebook and share the poems that lay hidden between my pages.
Rosemerry does not just write poems, she writes them every day, and shares them every day. Every day, a new poem goes out into the world, an offering to some soul who is waiting for the balm Rosemerry’s words are.
I started writing a poem a day at the beginning of 2022, from the smallest of moments. They provided a documentation of who I was that day – what I paid attention to, and each poem gifted me a discovery in the making. It became an obsession. However, most of them are not very good. In fact, many of them make me shudder at the childlike sweeping words of my pen. But, maybe this is the point. To share these poetry beginnings with the world to overcome our fear of perfection. We are working those bravery muscles and quieting that critic every time we hit SUBMIT.
Rosemerry’s words echo with each poem scribed:
“They do not have to be good. They just have to be true.”
William Stafford, my poet guide from April, and his son, Kim Stafford, my guide from May, each also wrote/write a poem a day and have adopted this same way of writing and sharing poems. Both poets also urge us to write bad poems, but make them be true.
So, at the Poet Guides’ urging, I begin. Along with many other poets who fling their words out into the world, in hopes they just might land on some thirsty soul. But that really does not matter to me. The words are there to remind myself – to live my life wide awake to each miniscule moment of my day. I do not know when the last day will arrive, but I whisper to myself each morning, “What if this were the last day?” and I choose to live it as such.
Some poems arrive on their own spoken words from someone you love a passer-by, or a stranger their words - a doorway to inside. Or perhaps the conversation between two crows soaring in the sky beg for documentation, the oaks, the acorns, and the rocks we carry in our suitcases, all yeast for the bread of a poem. But, somedays, a nudge from a poetry friend is is the remedy- Rosemerry or Padraig, Naomi or Natalie, They whisper, Shari - see this poem? Feel it? Here's what they did! You try it! Trade out words of your own! Well, Padraig adds, you don't have to if you don't want to, you can do what you want. Rosemerry looks at Padraig and then me and adds: But, it's FUN! Writing and sharing a poem a day ~ "The writing is inhaling and the sharing is exhaling. They don't have to be good, they just have to be true." ~Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer