Viral Dailies – Day 1

We are, all of us, in a coup of sorts. The forced injustice of disease stomping its boots on our collective heads. It’s one of the unknown dangers of our diverse lives lived frantically, furiously, frenetically in close quarters.

But, there can be light in dark places. People are finding it all the time. And, serendipitously, April brings with it the hope of poetry: National Poetry Month. Into this current of shared shared beauty I would cautiously but willingly wade. 

A poem a day. Sometimes my own. Often the works of others, both new and historic. I pray you’ll take this wordish journey with me as we cry out our voices against the melée and toward our healing and the comforts of physical community again.

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We write so many poems 

We write so many poems.

Some, like bones, protrude through thinner skin

of vulnerability and loss.

Others meander in slow-drift brooks

of thought-filled cadence.

Still others jostle, ruffians of heart, reminding

us we still have memory and expectation,

angels and devils of our days to contend with.

But, all the time, as words spill out

they grow us up, closer to the stars – 

and the old light.

 

Somewhere, long ago

Somewhere, long ago, I lost a language.

Words, like jeweled coasters perched light on window-sills,

just out of sight; carefully lettered, dim-lit hallways,

diffused in a dappling dawn –

a reverie in lost sentences referencing only themselves.

I sought what little I could find,

rummaging in refuse, refusing the catalyst of tongue

and tooth when, better equipped, silence met me instead.

Still, as phrases found the furniture of faith,

they stood a bit taller than the mouth that spoke them,

and, in a final flash of familiarity, returned.

 

Empty House – guest poem by Seymour Jacklin

Another guest poem today. This one is by another favorite writer/poet and emerging friend, Seymour Jacklin. He is also a gifted storyteller with an awesomely cool accent (think South African blended with potpourri English). This one is spoken word which, in my opinion, is the best way to capture the fullest essence of the multi-sensory art of poetry.

Enjoy.

http://soundcloud.com/seeingmore/empty-house