Teachings from Writing Poetry Every Day for the month of April

Day 15

I see a vintage brooch on Etsy. On it, a picture of roses that remind me of balls of yarn. I find the brooch while looking for indigo ink to write in natural blue with my dip pen. The combination of roses and yarn makes me think of my mother. I am grateful for the structure of haikus, for they give me something to pour my longing in. I know my haikus are no literary masterpieces and I feel like I am missing something to make them remarkable. For now, I am just enjoying the process and am grateful that the English language has so many one-syllable words.

Poem When Will I Find

Day 16

I am starting to ??? a ritual for our next circle that will take place two days after my mother’s death anniversary. First ideas and sentences are pouring out of me. An emotion that I know well enough gets me out of my head and into a state where I can receive guidance for my words and for the shape of the ritual.

Day 17

I will have two meditations to write: one to open the circle and one to close it. The well for these is a little different to the poetry one. For these texts I have to turn in deeper. Poetry comes to me lightly while looking outward, while meditations come to me when I am blind. Meditations are multi-day projects that involve leaving and returning from my side.
With texts like these, I write the words as they came and later will I worry about their order.

Day 18

I am at the stage of my sweater where I have knit for miles and miles. It is a little draining as the urge to knit round after round draws me in. It feels as if I am dissolving into the yarn that is the essence of the sweater. Crow Medicine calls for Owl Medicine. Our neighbor brings the feather of a Barn Owl, something we should not be in possession of. But it has me thinking. If Crow is DeadCrow and DeadCrow gets eaten by Owl, what happens to Owl?

Poem Crow Medicine

Day 19

I am in a deeply creative state. Words show up multiple times a day and I need to write them or type them down frantically. Nothing is in order, but showing up the way it needs to be heard and felt and sensed. Words that show up as a potential poem can become a part of the meditations later. I am creating with a big black bubble of thick curls. Braiding a net to drift on. It becomes a raft and I am on my way downstream, picking up pebbles along the way. I have lost track of my google docs. Everything is out of order and I need it to be that way. Creativity flows circular, outside of technological boundaries.

Day 20

The first wave of ideas for the meditations has been written down. The urge to collect them is gone. I am stepping away for a little while, knowing that when I return, I will be able to elaborate and put them into order. Here’s a little glimpse:

You can only catch the morning sun
in the corner of your eye
with a tear that reflects
where your heart has been cracked open.
If it weren’t for the tear,
a rainbow wouldn’t be able to land on your face.

Day 21

I sleep in and need a nap in the afternoon. There is so much dreaming. I don’t remember any of those dreams, but tales need to be woven. A blurr of images and feelings.

I also jot down a few verses of a poem that I know won’t be finished today. But an idea is captured and I can come back later to tell that story.