Poetry

"Poetry-writing it, reading it, and sharing it-provides insight into all mysteries and pursuits." ( Poetry as Spiritual Practice" by Robert McDowell)

I read and wrote poetry when I was in high school and on and off during my adult life. For the last several years my mind became barren for poetry. I could only write a line not enough even to wite a haiku. But lately I am hearing a new "stirring of pages", a glimpse of inspiration from tidbits of reading about irelevant things, about giants and pigmies, what GK Chesterton calls Tremendous Trifles ( from Willa's Spacious Space). I borrowed from the library Robert McDowells' book.

Maybe I should start again reading and writing poetry, develop that discipline to pick up the pen and jot something in my notebook and maybe after carrying some ideas and pictures in my head it will develop into something like giants and pigmies. They can look around and see things, an empty bench, a crowded sidewalk, a fisherman lost in day dreaming. Maybe I will climb the rocks and boulders along the trail or describe cut logs arranged like a fence.

The songs will sing again in my head, colors will paint my eyes and I can listen to the silent passing of the dark clouds and sleep dreaming of rain tapping my window pane.

It is Monday in November and cold. I will take a walk bundled in sweat shirts and a basebal cup. Walk to the cafe in the downtown carrying the Poetry as a Spiritual Practice. I will sit with a cup of coffee and sharpen the pencil.