a cork board


What Poetry Means To Me
PMpSat, 23 Jul 2016 12:26:41 +000026Saturday 1, 2010, 12:26 pm
Filed under: the ether, the mirror, Uncategorized | Tags: , , , , , , ,

YogiWSMenu

A few years ago I was doing some solo grocery shopping at Fresh Co. I was in a hurry, in the zone wearing track pants and trying to grab some orange juice get home quickly. A lady walking with her daughter saw me and slowed down. She paused, half-tilted her head and grinned. She said “you’re a poet right?” I hadn’t performed in a couple of years and had all-but-forgotten about that part of my life. I said “yes, yes I am.” She said she saw me feature at Guelph Poetry Slam in November of the previous year (that was even almost 2yrs removed from performing) and loved my work. She said she bought both of my books and keeps them in her car. It left me feeling perplexed and very good. Wow, my words touched someone.

Last week I was at Starbucks ordering the closest I can get to fancy there, a Grande Americano. The cashier asked my name “Yogi, Y-O-G-I”. She paused, looked up and said “do you do spoken word?” I said “I used to.” Turns out, she used to manage a bar/restaurant where I used to perform at a lot in 2012. She knew my work pretty well. She asked me why I’d stopped. Truth be told, I put it down to focus on being a present father with my little ones. She paused again, “you were good, I remember. You should do it again.” I showed her my journal in hand and said I was working on it. It left me feeling confused. I actually said I used to. WTF? When did that happen?

Something happened in the years I stopped performing. I went through a few years of writer’s block. But I’ve gotten past that. In the last year I’ve been writing a lot, lot more. I’m not finishing anything, but I’m writing nonetheless. Good ideas, good wordplay. I’m getting back in the groove. I was in a really good place in 2012 when I stopped. I felt more comfortable on stage than I ever had before. I was churning out more new, quality poems. My stage voice had found legs to stands on and wings to fly with. But I wanted to be present and accounted for during bath time, story time, good night kisses and late night snuggles. I wanted to be there for it all and I didn’t wanna miss a thing. Spoken word/Poetry slam have been around for a while, it’ll be fine without me. It’ll welcome me back when I’m ready too.

What happened in the meantime was cynicism. It was skepticism. I began to wonder if words can ever really have an impact. Why bother? What legacy do these poems and performances really have? What are we really leaving behind? I still sit and wonder about it. You stand up for 3 minutes and 10 seconds, speak your truth and bare your soul and make some noise for a round of applause, some pats on the back, some much-needed personal release and that’s about it. It began to feel like it was just spinning wheels, like an exercise for the ego. Are we really awakening minds, or are we just another passing phase? Does what you say stick with someone when they wake up in the morning? I’ve been questioning the purpose and reason behind this spoken word thing for a while now and it began to make me jaded.

But then the universe had me cross paths with someone like I did that day at Starbucks or Fresh Co. Someone reminds me, hey your work really inspired me. I occasionally bump into a person who heard me speak my truth 4-6 years ago, and I’m still with them. My words uplifted them then and stayed with them. So I start to think that maybe there is some resonance. Maybe there is some staying power. Maybe there is something more to it than ego and glory and punchlines. Performing/Sharing poetry isn’t about immediate change. It’s about planting seeds. It’s about creating a spark. We may never see the tree take root or see the inferno blaze across the horizon, but it’s there. It’s a lot like karma, it takes time but it happens without fail.

IMG_0515

Poetry, for me, has always been very personal. I never excelled at tackling “issue poetry” unless I was able to relate myself into it. Standing on that stage, just you and the microphone. Just your voice and the audience. Just your gut and their ear drums. There’s something magical about that. The butterflies. The feeling that you’re going to fall…but then you take flight. I’ve gone to a couple of poetry slams in the last couple of months on account of my wife encouraging me. She gives me gentle little pushes into it and I’m taking her queue little by little. I don’t want to make a team and compete on a national stage, but I want my voice out there again. Because I finally realized, after all this time, that I have something to say…and it’s worth hearing.

 

 

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Playing By The Rules
PMpTue, 29 Mar 2016 14:49:59 +000049Tuesday 1, 2010, 2:49 pm
Filed under: the ether, the mirror, Uncategorized | Tags: , , , , , ,

There comes a time in your life when you get overlooked for someone else. It could be a promotion, an award or a simple pat on the back. It doesn’t matter what it is, as long as it’s recognition of some kind. It shouldn’t matter…but it does. We crave recognition. It validates our existence, it lets us know that we’re doing the right thing. I say we shouldn’t care, because it’s a lot like giving a pet a treat to reinforce good behavior (i.e. here’s a biscuit for your good behavior, now do it again!). I say we shouldn’t care because it doesn’t matter one tiny bit they way our actions are perceived by others. Only the results matter. But human nature is such a thing that we constantly seek validation from the rest of the world.

When it happens to me, I get infuriated. I get angry at the people who overlooked me AND the people who I was overlooked for. I’ve always operated on the belief that good, hard work yields good, honest results. Plain and simple. You work hard and plug away day in and day out and one day, if you’re lucky, then the boss-lady may call your number and give you a cookie for your efforts. But in the relentless culture of the office, playing the game is more important than hard work can ever be. What is the game you ask? The game is about appearances. It’s about facades and thinly-veiled agendas. It’s about social manipulation, being self-serving at every opportunity and looking out for number 1. And I’m not willing to play the game. I’ve never been cut from that cloth to be dishonest and manipulate things for my own benefit.

The more I sit here and ruminate onbring overlooked yet again, the more I fester with anger and bitterness. The more I begin to think about the old sayings of, no pain no gain or with no risk there’s no reward. I’m realizing that I’m sitting here comfortably in a job that doesn’t fulfill me, plugging away day in and day out expecting to get rewarded when I’m not playing by the rules of the game. I don’t like over-laughing to fit in. I don’t like being social when I don’t feel like it. I don’t like soliciting compliments. I don’t like complimenting the boss on her hair, shoes, jacket if I don’t feel like it. I’ve operated under the false pretenes that work and production alone represents youir place within an organization. But it doesn’t, and I can’t fault the system for that. I’ve chosen to be part of this system. This system requires a real “go-getter” attitude, a “team player” and someone overflowing with confidence, swagger and pizazz. It’s listed plain as day on the job requirements. Neither of those things are overly me.

Instead of being grumpy and unsatisfied I need to realize that I cannot change the game, I don’t want to change the game. I cannot change the rules. And I will definitely never win unless I’m willing to play by the rules. Well, bah-humbug, I ain’t playing by a damn thing. I need to actually put myself out there and stop running from my potential. I need to stop procrastinating and do more. I’m sick of feeling like I’m being overlooked because the person doing the overlooking is me. I’m the one who chooses to stay within the confines of this mindset. I’m the one who refuses to simply open the gate and enter a world with a different set of rules. Often times we get so caught up in what’s in front of us without ever realizing that we have the ability and power to simply walk away, turn around and just say fuck you and move on with our lives onto something better. I’m sick of it. So I’m trying to view this dogged day to day a bit differently. As a means to an end, because the moment I start to believe that it’s something more or that I can be something more within the confines of these rules, then my goose is cooked. Upward and onward folks. New rules, new game….slowly but surely.



Till the Morning (A Short Story)
AMpThu, 17 Mar 2016 11:38:41 +000038Thursday 1, 2010, 11:38 am
Filed under: the ether, Uncategorized | Tags: , , ,

A couple of years ago I submitted a shorty story to the CBC short story contest. It came from a fragment of free-writing I’d written about 5yrs earlier that I’d always wanted to build on. I tried to give the fragment legs and meat and bone. I tried to bring it to life and give it breath. So I paid the fee, submitted my work and held my breath for a few months. Obviously I didn’t win, didn’t come in 1st, 2nd, 3rd, 4th or 5th. Failure can make you question things. So I re-read the whole thing again and again and again. My conclusion? That it was total shit. Who was I to think my amateur writing and poor structure could compete with the others? So I buried it. Never shared, never read again….until today. I just randomly decided to share this story that I deemed absolute garbage and unworthy of public eyes. I decided to share it because I put so much into it and believed in it so much at one point. It was originally a lot longer but I edited it down by over 500 words to meet the word count requirement. I was going to post the unedited version, but I just realized how incomplete it actually is, so I’m posting the edited version that I submitted. Feedback is welcome. If anyone is interested I can post the unedited version too. I want to be a better story teller. I want to get better at writing prose. Here goes….

———————————————————

Until The Morning

The morning came quickly; he was still throwing javelins at the fall of night. The sheets were cold at his back as the sun crept into a hungry sky. The birds were not singing and the sky was wrapped in a soft hue of blue. It was early, the world was still asleep. Knowing what would greet him, he didn’t want to turn to the pillow next to him. He knew she would fade before morning as if the previous night was but a dream. It played out like his favorite movie; he knew the ending all too well, but still kept pressing play.

She smiled with a falsehood he had known since grade-school. He was always a nervous wreck around women. When he first tried to speak to her, his tongue would swell and nothing came out. She was his world and loved being put on a pedestal, so she asked him out one day. It was the most glorious moment in his life. To him, love was about surrendering and he wanted her to feel loved unconditionally, so he gave up everything. But she saw it as a weakness and ended up feelng sorry for him.

When her palm touched his skin he could feel her withdraw. The space between them in intimate moments somehow managed to become immense, but he saw something he swore was real, and he wanted more than anything to believe in it. That’s what kept him coming back, if only to believe in something. What he saw was fragments of her youth, the innocence of her adolescence; he fell in love with a memory. One that felt like it was a lifetime ago, one he longed for her to remember. And that made her feel like she could somehow be redeemed.

He turned to the next pillow, folding his body from one shoulder to the next, finding what he knew he would, an impression of her face; the foundation, the eye shadow, the lip gloss and some wisps of hair. Her scent lived in his sheets and smelled like home. It wasn’t perfume, just her. He would inhale her before opening his eyes in the morning with the hope that his eyelids parting would reveal her presence as he felt it. But she always left before sunrise. She waited until he was dreaming about her spinning pirouettes atop glaciers and falling in love with him; then she would be gone, not willing to face the morning where there is no face to put on.

She wanted her mornings for reflection. She wanted solitude, so she left every chance she got. When he called her, he didn’t let his pain show. He simply said, “I missed you this morning.” A long pause was interrupted only by the laboured inhale of her cigarette, and then more silence. He wet his lips before he spoke into the phone, “When will I see you again?” then, “are you there?”

It pulled her back into the moment long enough to mutter, “Yeah, sorry. Whenever.” She was always vague and noncommittal in her answers, keeping him at a safe distance while never completely pushing him away. But he wanted her to love him the way he loved her, so he stuck around. He was okay with waiting, no matter how long it took.

He spoke as if he wanted her to pull him back into the conversation “So…I’ll just call you later then?”

Her voice trailed off as if she were thinking of the future, “Yeah, that’s fine. You know where to find me.”

They exchanged goodbyes, the line clicked and he sat on the edge of his bed with the phone still loosely gripped between his fingers as his shoulders started to slump.

He remembered the first time he waited for his father to come home. Each hour that passed draped his shoulders further. It would be the first of many times his father let him down. He would always wait for his parents to rescue him, but they never did. So he put on a strong demeanor to face the world. He found solace in retreating to the recesses of his mind. He always longed to feel loved.

He looked down at the screen on his phone, her eyes looking back at him now. He thought of all the time he’d spent waiting, about how he wanted the space between them to disappear, how he longed take up residence in her heart. A resolve started swelling in his throat; it travelled down to his chest. It made him stand up. It made his ears ring loud with the sound of his beating heart. He was tired of waiting. He had to tell her everything and he had to do it now. He looked at her on the screen of his phone again; she was still there.

It felt like the phone rang for an eternity, “Hello?”

There was a sense of urgency in his voice, “What are you doing right now?”

Her lighter flicked three times, the embers crackled and she inhaled slowly “Nothing really, I’ve got a few days off.”

He wasted no time, “I need to see you, I’m on my way.”

Her head filled with questions, “um, okay…what’s the deal?” but it was too late. The line had clicked and he was already running down the stairs.

He gripped the steering wheel firm as he raced to her apartment, flying from one lane to the next. His heart was pounding in his chest; his mind was focused. When he got there, she stood blankly looking at him in the doorway. Her left hand was resting on the doorknob while her right hand hung loosely at her waist holding a cigarette with smoke cascading up her arm. He averted his gaze from hers and took a deep breath before looking up. He stepped forward with his right foot, then his left. He reached out his left hand and took hold of her right palm. She looked up at him, bewildered. He placed his right hand on the nape her neck and pressed his lips firmly against hers. He kissed her in a way that spoke the words he never could. The cigarette fell from her fingers and crashed on the floor while her right hand slid up his back. They kissed in the doorway until he pulled away, rested his forehead on her’s and looked intently into her eyes. The corners of her mouth pinched upwards into her cheeks as a smile exposed her teeth, “Okay” she said.

The night came quickly amidst a whirlwind of letting go. They raced into the setting sun as if they were meant to catch it. When the moon came, it basked them in resplendent light. The ground shook with their love-making like the earth under a herd of running buffalos. It was beautiful madness the way they wrapped themselves into one another. When all of the exuberance was over and all of their energy spent, they found themselves in his bed again; her shoulder blade cupped comfortably into his chest; his arm wrapped into her frame; her hair carelessly strewn across his pillow; the same way it had always been. He drifted into that dream again, the one where she was spinning like a ballerina atop a glacier; the one where she fell in love with him.

The sheets were cold at his back as dawn creaked into the horizon. He inhaled deeply; it smelled the same way it always did, like her. The birds were silent and the world was still asleep. The sound of his breath filled the room. He didn’t want to turn to the pillow again, he couldn’t fathom that this morning would start the same as the others. The sheets were still cold at his back, he opened his eyes slowly. She was there, looking back at him. The dawn looked magnificent upon her face. She wore a smile that spoke of repose. Her eyes were fixated on his as she gently placed the palm of her left hand onto his face. He chuckled in disbelief, “You’re still here.”

She kissed him softly, with her eyes closed. He could feel the warmth of sleep on her skin as her arm slid around his torso, her legs caressed his. She sank into his embrace. She looked to be at peace as she smiled again and released another breath. Her eyes met his as countless unspoken sentiments were exchanged.

She said “good morning” and a new day began.



How I Was Feeling Around The Time I Took a Break From Performing
PMpFri, 09 Jan 2015 16:27:13 +000027Friday 1, 2010, 4:27 pm
Filed under: poems, the ether, the mirror | Tags: , , , , , ,

I was combing through some of my poems that I’d written and hardly ever or never shared recently and I came across this. I read this and remember so many things. The way I was feeling then was just that I didn’t belong. I felt torn. I wanted to be home. I felt like everyone was fake, like I was constantly being judged, like people had these expectations of me that I felt I could never live up to. I wanted to retreat into corners like I used to. To be invisible. That’s convenient. In a few ways I’ve done that. I haven’t completely because I haven’t been living some shadow-filled, dark, angry life of a loner. I’ve been being a father, husband and working on being a good human being. I’ve been re-calibrating my sense of purpose and re-tuning my creative muscle. Anyway (I digress), I’m in a much calmer place now and to re-read this brings back a lot of memories. It was also a time when I started reaching into the farthest of places for metaphors and those places ended up being a little dark and surreal……

The Company of Eagles & Wolves

I’ve never been part of a crowd.

I never fit into any one place.

I bleed blue blood in blistered corners

of houses dispersed with red-blooded hounds

and cold-blooded hearts.

I could never be part of the crowd.

Moments where I felt like I was 

An eagle would come flying into the room

To pick his bones apart

So he could martyr himself in an effort

to remind me that I did not belong.

And I was bleeding myself dry.

Even here, on this stage, behind this mic,

I look some of you in the eye 

I know you don’t understand me.

Or even worse, you misunderstand me.

You think you have me figured out

and you never took me our for coffee.

You never asked me why the sky was red

or why I have these horseshoes

hanging out of my pockets.

I get trapped in the entangled

expectations you have of me,

of what you expect me to be.

And I’m left running in my head.

Screaming at the top of my lungs

while ripping the smirks off of

your disenfranchised faces.

Fuck you. For ever standing

on a mountain while I cast myself

into long, winding trails where

only I know the way out.

For thinking you have me all figured out.

For seeing the disillusionment

in the back of my eyes and

recoiling into frozen stances where

I’m made to think that I’m the problem.

I wish I could know the way the gears

turned in that pretty, little head of yours.

You can see me trying to read you,

and it scares you. I can see it

in the way you stare back

slack-jawed with captured eyes.

You tell me to be myself.

But that is something

I wrestled with for 30+ years.

To the point where my fingers are swollen

and my conviction feels discarded

like chicken bones picked clean

by the mouths of the starving.

I could pluck my ribs out one by one

in an effort to be a beautiful display of decay.

So that when you look at me

you will see what I’m made of.

So maybe I can fit into the

crowd of corpses of collapsed creedens

who once breathed the same oxygen

that betrays my every breath.

Go ahead and set the wolves loose on me.

Cut the ropes and send their ravenous mouths,

open and hungry, at my flesh.

I will hold these beasts with my bare hands

and tame them with affection and understanding.

After all of the isolation and

persistent pauses that

plagued our every interaction,

I finally see that I was never meant

to be part of any crowd.

All of the eagles with martyrdom complexes

could fly into the crowded rooms

from the windows of my face,

it’s okay, I’ll befriend them.

I will set those magnificent creatures free

and they will come back to me.

After I snap my ribs back into place

my heart will be intact and

every place I was ever meant to be

will be inside of me.

Because everything I’ve ever needed

is here.

An endless ocean

that crescendos with every inhale.

Scattered with your bones,

my blue blood and our indifference.

Where I keep a pack of wolves

and a flock of invisible eagles as pets.

Where the hearts that understand me

will always be.

Where every ounce of conviction

that I possess will hold me

high enough to kiss the sun.

Where the only place I need to fit

is within myself.



Why ‘Frozen’ Is Awesome
PMpWed, 12 Feb 2014 14:37:36 +000037Wednesday 1, 2010, 2:37 pm
Filed under: the ether, the sweetst thing | Tags: , , , , ,

Disney’s newest movie ‘Frozen’ is taking the world by storm. I don’t have any figures or statistics to back that up, but believe me, it’s out there. Google or Bing it, it’s all out there. The movie has made almost $900million at the box office and isn’t even done yet. Movie theaters across the country are hosting ‘Frozen’ sing-a-longs on a daily basis and it is still about a month away from DVD release (where it will make a killing). The movie is doing handsomely well. They’re saying this movie (along with ‘Tangled’ and ‘Wreck It Ralph’) is ushering in the dawn of a new golden era over at Disney (the previous being ‘Beauty and the Beast’, ‘ Aladdin’, The Little Mermaid’, etc.). I couldn’t be happier about it. It coincides with me having kids, so hey, I will get to see almost all of them. After watching the world of animation expand and evolve they’ve had to fight for theirs.

My wife and I took our 4yo son to see the movie since those hilarious TV spots got his attention very quickly. He was in awe and he was hooked. The movie sold out and the place was packed wall to wall with parents and droves of little children. Boys and girls alike were in amazement at the wonder of ‘Frozen’. Did I mention us parents were too? Look, ‘Frozen’ is awesome. I’m a 32yo man rockin’ a winter beard and flannel and I’ll admit it, this movie is the bee’s knees. It rocks. You truly experience just about every emotion when watching this movie. So, now that I’ve stated how awesome I think it is, I thought I would list the reasons why ‘Frozen’ is awesome. Here goes.

1. The “true love” foundation to the story is not a princess waiting on her Prince Charming. True love is between sibling, 2 sisters to be exact. The fact that a female lead is not desperately flipping her hair so a man’s attention can give her some self-worth is something to write home about.

2. The female leads in the movie are capable, independent-minded, strong and intelligent women who struggle with finding their place in the world. They’re not completely incapable of surviving without the help of prince charming.

3. The princess does not marry the very first handsome prince that gives her the time of day, though she almost does.

4. There are so many moral victories to be had in this movie: young woman coming of age, meaning of true love, importance of parents/family, sacrifice for the greater good, conquering one’s demons by accepting that negative feelings are okay, a healthy imagination is wondrous and so many more that I cannot think of them.

5. The sequence during the “Do You Wanna Build a Snowman?” song is to ‘Frozen’ what the 2min heart-wrenching sequence was at the beginning of ‘Up’. It will bring a grown man to tears.

6. Oh right, the songs….the songs are not only catchy and heavily sing-a-longable, but they are plot-advancing devices that serve a purpose!

7. They don’t force any modern-day references to make the movie more palatable to current audiences.

8. Lastly, Queen Elsa totally could have been in the X-Men.

That last one can’t leave my mind. In a different time, in a different universe, this entire happenings of this movie would have ended with a visit from Charles Xavier and Magneto. Queen Elsa would be a kick-ass member of the X-Men. Imagine what she could do with her powers at Prof. X’s School for the Gifted. Wow. That’s just awesome. But hey, Disney owns Marvel now right? Maybe they’re ahead of the game here and are really up for crossing their universes and we’ll see an animated Prof. X say he heard some “rumblings from the distant past of a very powerful mutant” or something like that. Wouldn’t that be awesome?! Far fetched, I know. But it certainly has the workings of some serious fan fiction. Look, if they’re gonna send Wolverine into the past in the upcoming ‘X-Men: Days of Future Past’ then this is not that far-off of an idea. That being said, with the super-surge in popularity of superheroes maybe Disney thought “hey! Let’s do a story with princess that has superpowers.” Whatever the gamble was, it has paid dividends.

That is why I think ‘Frozen’ is infinitely awesome. If you have been thinking about seeing it but have been putting it off, go and see if while you can experience it in theater. Adults and children alike can find something magical in this movie. I’m not ashamed to say that I love this movie and will be buying it on Blu Ray when it comes out, not just for my son and daughter, but also for my wife and I. And with the way the leading women are represented in this movie I have zero issues with my daughter watching this movie. She has as much to learn from this movie as my son. She’s only 18months but she’ll see it in her time, because we will have it on the shelf. I’m gonna start using a hashtag to show my love for this movie and see if it picks up. In the name of grown men, bearded or burly or bodybuilders, who are not afraid to show their love for ‘Frozen’ I am gonna start using the hashtag #FrozenFanBoys. If this is you, rock it. Good job Disney, way to break the mold that you yourself have created.



NaPoWriMo – Day 2
PMpFri, 05 Apr 2013 21:13:42 +000013Friday 1, 2010, 9:13 pm
Filed under: poems, the ether, the mirror, Uncategorized | Tags: , , , ,

Okay, so I’ve got some catching up to do. I’m still struggling with getting my minf flexing and flowing again. It’s been a while. I’m diving in whenever the opportunity presents itself.

Losing My Way

My mind races

through a labyrinth of thought,

banging into every corner

thumping against walls.

Clarity is somewhere

but eludes me at every turn.

Every time I try to write,

the vision is at the end of the hall.

I blink and it’s gone.

So I run.

I run hard, I run fast.

Spraining my ankles

at break-neck speeds

in a futile effort to

re-capture the vision.

But when I finally find it,

it’s not what it was.

It’s changed into

something almost recognizable .

I haphazardly grab

at it with both hands,

only for it to vanish into this air.

So I’m running again.

Burning an inferno in my lungs.

Losing my form, breaking my stride

and becoming completely unrecognizable.

I turn a final corner to find a mirror.

Standing there, I’m panting and heaving,

but my reflection is serenity embodied.

I straighten my stance,

pace into my image,

stand nose to nose

with my own vision of self.

I’ve tried desperately

to bring this person to life,

but he lives within my mind.

He lives within me.

And I cave to the pressures

of living up to him.

I am my greatest benefactor and endorser.

I am my own worst enemy.

I am everything and nothing

and the vastness existence.

I am the pull of the tides

and the winds in the mountains.

I just wish it were always so.

That I didn’t lose focus so easily.

And with this revelation,

that elusive vision races by again.

I turn to look, my reflection disappears.

I give chase again

and I am gone.



NaPoWriMo – Day 1
PMpTue, 02 Apr 2013 16:53:56 +000053Tuesday 1, 2010, 4:53 pm
Filed under: poems, the ether, the mirror, the sweetst thing, Uncategorized | Tags: , , , ,

I haven’t blogged or written a poem in months. Since my daughter was born in July of 2012 I took a voluntary and very intentional step away from writing and performing. I’ve been living miraculous moments and have decided to spend most of my spare time with my family. With that being, lately the page has been calling me back. I’ve been going through a lot where I’m questioning the relevancy of my voice, what I have to say and if it even matters in the world. I know my son looks up to me in ways that are incredible. I know that the 2/3 times he has seen me on stage, there is a sparkle in his eye that uplifts me. So, even if it’s just him that I uplift, I have to write. I used to write to uplift myself, then through poetry slam I tried to uplift the community and the world, then it was my relationship with my wife and now it’s my kids. So, with the page calling me again and my muse ready to make another appearance, I have decided to take on the NaPoWriMo writing challenge once again this year. I tried it last year and I learned a lot about myself, I made it to 22 days (I think). I have no illusions of making it all the way to 30, considering I haven’t written in months. I just want to re-ignite my purpose and my inspiration. I want to kick-start my voice. So, if you’re reading/following, thank you. I have no idea what is going to be coming, but I’m sharing the journey and I hope we can all find something in it that is real and inspired….here is my poem from yesterday.

Day 1/Poem 1

What Matters Most

If I ever let go

of things that lift me up,

I will have to

stand on my own.

 

Without the people

that lift me up

I will have to

stand as a tree.

 

Though I know

self-worth is

embedded in self-love,

I feel I will be amiss

without the community

that holds me up.

 

I fear that I have made

a forest of crutches

from people that I love.

 

When leaves become brittle,

branches left bare

and bones droop

too low to stand strong,

I lean on them.

 

When pressures of

day to day

become overcast skies,

I smile with my children

and hug my wife.

They light up my heart.

 

I look at my family

in amazement.

I wrap my arms

around them.

Thank the Almighty

for all of my blessing.

 

For they hold me together,

whenever I feel broken.