Tag: poem

feelings, memories, metaphors and people

~ jennadawn ~ Leave a comment

I opened an old notebook
at random
from the stack beside my bed
on the bookshelf.

A notebook of poetry
from three years ago.

The page I turned to
contained words of
feelings
memories
metaphors
and people.

I offered to the page
a wistful smile
for just yesterday
I wrote about the same
feelings
memories
metaphors
and people.

And I thought to myself:
I need to let them go.

you thought you had more time

~ jennadawn ~ Leave a comment

You see the first sign of a problem
emerge,
a blemish on a previously spot-free
canvas.

You tell yourself
that you should have it fixed,
addressed,
while it’s still small
before it becomes something bigger.

Time goes by
the blemish is still there
but unchanged.
You remind yourself
of the need to have it fixed.

Then
without warning
it’s no longer a blemish.

Despite your intentions
it has grown into the bigger problem
you imagined happening
but naively assumed
you had more time
because things had stayed the same for this long already.

Now, it’s undeniable,
the problem demanding your attention
engulfing the canvas.

All because
you thought you had more time
and you believed things would stay the same.

re-acquaint the pen with my hand

~ jennadawn ~ 1 Comment

I have forgotten how to hold my pen –
index, middle and thumb?
index and thumb?
concave or convex?
thumb tucked in or overlapped?

I write a line, or a word,
then my fingers fumble and fidget,
switch to a different position
then switch again a few words later.

What was once a natural extension of my hand
now lives in the unfamiliar.
Half the process now, requires learning
how to enable the pen to rest
within my fingers and thumb
to scratch legible letters,
never mind focusing my mind enough
to connect thoughts into coherency
to write at all.

I have been away from the page
for so long
the practice, the rituals I once knew
and depended on,
are foreign.

Long ago
(or what seems like long ago)
I began this practice
fumbling and learning and
constantly switching my fingers around the pen
just like I am now.

This is a chance to begin again
to re-acquaint the pen with my hand
and begin walking along a new trail
of the forest.

shifting

~ jennadawn ~ Leave a comment

Periods of writing
have become few and far between.

Me,
settling into the slowness
of the lingering winter season
with her cool air and cloudy skies.

I grant permission
to embrace slowness.

This is a time to absorb
creativity around me,
to focus less on creating.

Shifting projects, priorities,
selecting new sources of inspiration.

Seasons shift,
evolve,
surprise and endure.

walking away from anxiety

~ jennadawn ~ Leave a comment

Noticing, how
when I leave the house
ridden with anxiety
my breaths are short and shallow,
my steps quick and rigid,
resisting the urge to run and cry
at the same time,
anything to make this feeling go away.

After ten minutes
my breaths are short
but deep on the inhale,
strong and forceful on the exhale.

After twenty minutes
my breaths deepen
my stride lengthens
and I find a rhythm.

And after thirty minutes,
maybe more,
I feel the anxiety release its final talon
and fly away.

My breathing calm,
my steps easy,
I walk a bit further
to soak in this feeling
a little longer.

Let me soak in this feeling
just a little bit longer.

bacteria and toxins and irritants

~ jennadawn ~ Leave a comment

My body must be trying to tell me something
with her relentless outbursts
manifesting as
psoriasis
and eczema
and acne
and cysts
across my scalp
around my eyes
splattered on my face
because why not?

Creams and lotions
and acne-fighting facial cleansers
deploy to the offensive efforts.
Success is slow
and interjected with flare-ups.

I wonder if my body
is trying to rid herself
of bacteria and toxins and irritants.

I wonder if my body
is unintentionally attracting
bacteria and toxins and irritants
and for some reason
absorbing them, unable to let go?

I don’t like to see, to feel,
my body fighting a war
so I employ the creams and lotions
and acne-fighting facial cleansers
to help her restore balance and calm.

I know not for sure
her true message,
but her anguish is undeniable.