I have been so busy celebrating my birthday this month that I have let my poor, sweet blog go on without honoring National Poetry Month. So I am hoping to make it up in a big way by spinning out a Week of Words to end the month.
Before I was an artist, I was a poet. I have been having a love affair with words for most of my life. As a young lady, I filled notebooks with free verse. In some of my darkest hours, most joyful moments, and for lots of the events in between, I have used words to express what begged to be shared with the world.
I often gave life to my thoughts by releasing them onto the pages of my journals. There, they spilled out with a raw immediacy that acted much like a mirror to what lived inside. Once on the page, I might contemplate the whole and all of its parts in the same way a mother lovingly examines her child in its first moments. Who is this before me? What of it was expected, and what is fresh and surprising? With every answer, something of myself is discovered and uncovered.
Poetry has been a great healer, companion, truth sayer, and wisdom keeper. I have celebrated words in poems about those I love, injustices, silliness, sexuality, and reverence for life. Poetry has so much to give.
As National Poetry Month winds down, I would love for you to share a poem or two of your own. Dig back into your files and journals to uncover that short ditty you hid away. Let this be the place where you put it out there. Or better yet, craft a new poem: free verse, Haiku, Limerick, whatever gets your fancy. Leave it on the Creativity Tribe FB page, and I will post it here the last day of the month. You know you want to!
Now, I will leave you with a bit of word play. Make sure to drink plenty of water after reading this, it is guaranteed to be steamy.
Your lips have been on my mind for days now.
Their tender eagerness and sweet intent surprised me.
When we first touched, there in the parking lot
With the conversation from dinner still fresh on our breath,
I wondered what kissing you might be like.
I wondered what our lips would say as our bodies were busy saying nothing at all.
And then my eyes were closed and your fingers were in my hair.
Can I stay there a bit?
My head and face were electric
As our lips touched that first time.
I remember thinking,
I want more of this.
A silent thought that leaked out with an exhalation and a sigh.
Now I haven’t been kissed a lot.
But I have been kissed enough to know that your kiss was different.
I don’t know if it is because you are from another country,
Or because your skin is hotter than mine,
Or simply because you’re different.
But kissing you was like kissing in another language.
And although I am only fluent in English,
Every word you said.