RoadWriter

Heart, Soul, and Rough Edges — A Gypsy Journey of Words and Wonder

Archive for the tag “Mary”

Simmering Muse

It was only a couple days before the month began that I decided to participate in National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo) this year. I was already planning on doing November Poem-A-Day (Nov PAD). With two projects going on, I knew I’d have to prioritize one of them.

Since the novel will take up more words and hours, that took top spot. This also kept me from stressing over the poetry prompts. In previous years, I’ve struggled getting a decent poem written off prompts. It’s a very finicky process. I’m way more reliant on my Muse to cooperate for poetry than fiction. In fiction, I can push forward and just write. That doesn’t work for poetry! At least not for me.

So Day 1, I read the poetry prompt early. No ideas come to mind, so I shrug and allow myself to focus on my novel. I worried that since I wasn’t coming up with even an idea, or giving time to it, that the poems would be a bust again this year.

But that prompt was still in the back of my head, doing its work. Turns out I need to have more faith in my Muse/subconscious. For first thing the next morning, when I was trying to get more sleep, there was that prompt, and accompanied with how I was going to use it. I even had a repetitious phrase!

Lesson learned: For the poetry, read the prompts but don’t stress it. Let it simmer, sit in the back of my brain while I do other stuff. When it’s ready, I won’t be able to ignore it.

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Meeting Mary

More Than What You See

“The man is only half himself, the other half is his expression”
~ Ralph Waldo Emerson

I am only half what you see –
you can’t learn all from a picture;
yes, you see my hair is blonde,
my eyes are blue,
perhaps estimate my height…
but my fair skin and features are not all
that make me who I am.

I am thoughts, ideas,
creations, emotions,
memories.

I am tears –
let loose so easily
but making me strong not soft.

I am survivor –
wrought in the fire
to strengthen my faith.

I am chiaroscuro –
not all light or dark alone
but the contrast and shadows they create.

I am love –
wrapped gently
around my husband and my son.

I am seeds –
blown from a dandelion
swept up by the air in flight.

I am words –
brewing inside of me
are ideas that will form poems and stories.

I am me –
take me or reject me,
but you cannot change me.

 

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