You know you've spent a week at a poetry retreat when you board a plane and wonder why the man beside you isn't interested in processing childhood traumas and reading poems aloud. The nerve! Words can't do this week justice, but thank you, Padraig. Thank you so very much. I wrote this one on pantoum day:
Supporting Character
Dad wears costumes when it isn't Halloween.
Emerges from his bedroom Gandalf, a werewolf, a knight.
Dutiful audience, bred to clap and squeal.
Slinks away after Jeopardy & soon he's someone new.
Emerges from his bedroom Gandalf, a werewolf, a knight.
Is he a boy, a father, or both?
Slinks away after Jeopardy & soon he's someone new.
Please, I won’t ask why (I lied) - what does it mean?
Blankets of resignation…
Whitewashed brick, cowbell clanging, dangling above, the bed, cocooned in books: Boundless Healing, Radical Acceptance, Mating in Captivity, Sex for One.
Please, I won’t ask why (I lied) - what does it mean?
(These) hands, reaching down, cradling those feet.
Whitewashed brick, cowbell clanging, dangling above, the bed, cocooned in books: Boundless Healing, Radical Acceptance, Mating in Captivity, Sex for One.
Seven, or was it eight years ago, a break again, no baby again, it lost its novelty.
(Those) hands, reaching down, cradling these feet.
Oct 8, 2023·edited Oct 8, 2023Liked by Pádraig Ó Tuama
Hallo! I was at the Omega Institute Poetry Unbound workshop last year.
(Pádraig, I was half of the duo that mistakenly attended the spiritual dancing class on day one)
Here are my lines from this morning in punk pantoum form:
(whisper) Tina Turner sends me messages as my spiritual guide.
Sitting upright meditating, driving in my car, or walking, I summon my council.
She joined in June following her death in May.
In the blue hour of the morning, I sit. I ask for guidance or say, Help! I listen.
Two mornings ago, I listened. A grieving friend came to my heart. I wept. I sent her a poem that I knew she needed. Thanks again, TT.
I am fortified.
In the blue hour, I ask for my council to surround me, then I listen. That's key, people. Oh, and on the eleven minute mark of random hours in the day.
You may believe this to be placebo, or better, delusion, I would. But if you could feel the love and calm… I hope you do.
I am fortified
It is 7:11 in the blue hour
You may believe this to be placebo, or better yet, delusion. I would too. Tina Turner agrees. But I wish for you the strong, calm love.
I have been told that I have TIna Turner legs, I don’t. Don’t you think I wanted to believe that?
I sit in the blue hour.
It all started in June.
I have been told I have Tina Turner legs, but friend, I acknowledge reality,
and (whisper) Tina Turner sends me messages as my spiritual guide.
Okay 👍🏼- ( I wrote this / immediately on the back of the latest oil bill)
1. Ordinary for you: Space
2. Where? In the basement, near the laundry and the parakeets.
3. Time? The light changes- I get hungry - the dogs get hungry - the cat gets hungry - the other people get hungry -
4 other triggers?
It rained - then it rained again- then the ticks came in on the hungry animals-
5. The RAIN
6. What do I wish to say to a Tick ? STOP sucking our blood!!
7. Behold !! This crlinder full of Organic Flea/ Tick Repellent Spray !! It is a glorious - it smells divine!! People comment on how nice I smell- what is that cologne you are wearing?
8. Well thank you for the kind compliment!! My new dearest friend - shall we now saunter off into the landscape together confidently?
You know you've spent a week at a poetry retreat when you board a plane and wonder why the man beside you isn't interested in processing childhood traumas and reading poems aloud. The nerve! Words can't do this week justice, but thank you, Padraig. Thank you so very much. I wrote this one on pantoum day:
Supporting Character
Dad wears costumes when it isn't Halloween.
Emerges from his bedroom Gandalf, a werewolf, a knight.
Dutiful audience, bred to clap and squeal.
Slinks away after Jeopardy & soon he's someone new.
Emerges from his bedroom Gandalf, a werewolf, a knight.
Is he a boy, a father, or both?
Slinks away after Jeopardy & soon he's someone new.
Thank God he showed me that grown-ups can play.
Are you a boy, a father, or both?
The spotlight suits you—is there room for two?
Thank God you showed me that grown-ups can play.
Gandalf's beard devours my small face.
The spotlight suits you—is there room for two?
Dutiful audience, bred to clap and squeal.
Gandalf's beard devours my small face.
You wear costumes when it isn't Halloween.
The pantoum:
Putting on a bra.
In the bedroom, hotel room, bathroom, or change room.
At forty odd years, odd years, even yours.
Punctuated, as a dressing, as an undoing.
In the bedroom, hotel room, bathroom, or change room.
Awkward moved comfortably in, dropping the awk and becoming a sigil ward.
Punctuated, as a dressing, as an undoing.
Growing queerer.
Awkward moved comfortably in, dropping the awk and becoming a sigil ward.
I love my growing need.
Growing queerer.
My chest, close to hold, as breast, the budding and unfurling.
I love my growing need.
At forty odd years, odd years, even yours.
My chest, close to hold, as breast, the budding and unfurling.
Putting on a bra.
I have become accustomed to sadness as my companion.
It lives in my body, in the center of my chest, my shoulders, and my back.
It seemed to happen all at once and but, also, gradually, seeping out into the marrow of my being.
I live a life before, during, and after.
It lives in my body, in the center of my chest, my shoulders, and my back.
I fear it will be my companion for life and I fear it will leave me.
I live a life before, during, and after.
You said you didn’t worry about me, that I had family and friends to accompany me.
I fear it will be my companion for life and I fear it will leave me.
I get up every day and make a cup of tea.
You said you didn’t worry about me, that I had family and friends to accompany me.
Sometimes, he is gone a while but he slides back in and makes a space for himself.
I get up every day and make a cup of tea.
It seemed to happen all at once and but, also, gradually, seeping out into the marrow of my being.
Sometimes, he is gone a while but he slides back in and makes a space for himself.
I have become accustomed to sadness as my companion.
Each morning I walk in circles
around the mulberry tree in my garden.
It’s been a year now, this morning ritual
greeting Mother Earth and Father Sky.
Around the mulberry tree in my garden
before breaking my overnight fast
greeting Mother Earth and Father Sky
noticing the flowers, listening to the birds.
Before breaking my overnight fast,
the coffee in my mug warming, awakening,
noticing the flowers, listening to the birds
step by step, my feet gently touching the earth,
The coffee in my mug warming, awakening.
It’s been a year now, this morning ritual
step by step, my feet gently touching the earth.
Each morning I walk in circles.
Susan
A shared coffee date as the day rises
At the kitchen table with view over the pond
Love slowly blooming over ordinary things
The routine cleaning of the kitchen before breakfast
-
At the kitchen table with view over the pond
Fill me with a deep sense of appreciation and love
The routine cleaning of the kitchen before breakfast
Cherish those little moments representing everything
-
Fill me with a deep sense of appreciation and love
Using the French press to extract love every morning
Cherish those little moments representing everything
Fueling our souls and body for the day to come
-
Using the French press to extract love every morning
Love slowly blooming over ordinary things
Fueling our souls and body for the day to come
A shared coffee date as the day rises
Here’s my offering, written this morning after reading Padraic’s email. I look forward to reading everyone else’s, too.
My daughter doesn’t live here anymore.
At home, her empty room is left to the cats.
In a blur of weeks, I settled into my empty nest. I helped her pack her things.
At home, her empty room is left to the cats.
Is there a word for feeling proud and bereft at the same time?
I helped her pack her things.
I knew this day would come, and I never expected it.
Is there a word for feeling proud and bereft at the same time?
I haven’t removed the tape from the wall where her poster hung.
I knew this day would come, and I never expected it.
I am expanding.
I haven’t removed the tape from the wall where her poster hung.
In a blur of weeks, I settled into my empty nest.
I am expanding.
My daughter doesn’t live here anymore
ORDINARY MOMENTS
coffee in the silence
of my morning bed
studying words that slip
into my unconscious
before coffee, dream
after coffee,
wake into the day
in my morning bed
colors of the day
before coffee, dream
after coffee,
wake into my day
never too deep
just deep enough
colors of my day
dark brown, sip slowly
write faster
never too deep
just deep enough
gets attention and
is ignored
dark brown, sip slowly
write faster
studying words that slip
into my unconscious
gets attention and
is ignored
coffee in the silence
Thank you so much, poetry wizard Pádraig for this particular set of pantoum prompts and your beautiful teaching and presence this week 🙏🏾.
-
Tingling, chards of glass in my feet again, upon waking again, alone again.
In bed, whatever bed I wake in, lately, just my own.
Seven, or was it eight years ago, a break again, no baby again, it lost its novelty.
Dreaming, remembering, forgetting, dissolving free.
In bed, whatever bed I wake in, lately, just my own.
Blankets of resignation…
Dreaming, remembering, forgetting, dissolving free.
Please, I won’t ask why (I lied) - what does it mean?
Blankets of resignation…
Whitewashed brick, cowbell clanging, dangling above, the bed, cocooned in books: Boundless Healing, Radical Acceptance, Mating in Captivity, Sex for One.
Please, I won’t ask why (I lied) - what does it mean?
(These) hands, reaching down, cradling those feet.
Whitewashed brick, cowbell clanging, dangling above, the bed, cocooned in books: Boundless Healing, Radical Acceptance, Mating in Captivity, Sex for One.
Seven, or was it eight years ago, a break again, no baby again, it lost its novelty.
(Those) hands, reaching down, cradling these feet.
Tingling, I wake again.
I drink my morning coffee black.
At the counter in my kitchen, on the straw perch of my stool-
For the last few years I’ve taken it black.
After padding down the stairs, grinding the beans.
At the counter in my kitchen, heels pressed into the footrest of my stool-
II am comforted.
I pad my feet downstairs, bring the beans,
I hold the warm, craved cup in my two hands.
I am comforted
by the wide-open mouth of my cup, the perfect white circle hugging dark liquid.
I hold it, warming my two hands.
It awakens and boosts me with anticipation.
The wide-open mouth, the perfect white circle offers me dark liquid.
For the last few years I’ve taken it black.
It awakens and boosts me with anticipation,
I drink morning coffee black.
Thank-you, Pádraig, as always, your curiosity and questions are gifts.
---
Like a miser with gold coins, I count my collection of old bruises
at dawn, while sipping coffee, strong and bitter, as my son, unexpected gift, still sleeps
these old, almost forgotten moments, now clambering for attention each morning as I wake
remembered/recovered in the course of PhD research - my days, my life
-
at dawn, while sipping coffee, strong and bitter, as my son, unexpected gift, still sleeps
I am ashamed that I abandoned myself because forgetting was more comfortable
remembered/recovered in the course of PhD research - my days, my life
because i learned young, no different from many, that I deserved to be punished
-
I am ashamed that I abandoned myself because forgetting was more comfortable
I still have the table that bears the scar from that time you threw a chair at me
because i learned young, no different from many, that I deserved to be punished
but my body has always remembered my tormenters and, today, says "No!"
-
I still have the table that bears the scar from that time you threw a chair at me
these old, almost forgotten moments, now clambering for attention each morning as I wake
but my body has always remembered my tormenters and, today, says "No!"
Like a miser with gold coins, I count my collection of old bruises
I hold close to my heart, the fear of losing you
In my entire being
I can’t remember when it wasn’t
Sometimes a trigger before, sometimes relief after
In my entire being
Guilt
Sometimes a trigger before, sometimes relief after
There is regret for how much pain is created
Guilt
Endless pages of journal entries, written to soothe yet sometimes exacerbate
There is regret for how much pain is created
My body must learn how to detach fear from love
Endless pages of journal entries, written to soothe yet sometimes exacerbate
I can’t remember when it wasn’t
My body must learn how to detach fear from love
I hold close to my heart, the fear of losing you
I loved doing this exercise...here is mine
On awakening I weigh myself in the closet and then go to the fridge
I am in the dark and in my home
I have been doing this for a long time
I pray to be an instrument of God before I put my feet down, put on the kettle and feed the cats
I am in the dark and in my home
I am a slave to my morning ritual
I pray to be an instrument of God before I put my feet down, put on the kettle and feed the cats
I feel like I am keeping secrets when I am alone like this in the morning
I am a slave to my morning ritual
I line up a scone, the cream and the cat food from the fridge
I feel like I am keeping secrets when I am alone like this in the morning
I guess I wake up hungry
I line up a scone, the cream and the cat food from the fridge
I have been doing this for a long time
I guess I wake up hungry
On awakening I weigh myself in the closet and then go to the fridge
Hallo! I was at the Omega Institute Poetry Unbound workshop last year.
(Pádraig, I was half of the duo that mistakenly attended the spiritual dancing class on day one)
Here are my lines from this morning in punk pantoum form:
(whisper) Tina Turner sends me messages as my spiritual guide.
Sitting upright meditating, driving in my car, or walking, I summon my council.
She joined in June following her death in May.
In the blue hour of the morning, I sit. I ask for guidance or say, Help! I listen.
Two mornings ago, I listened. A grieving friend came to my heart. I wept. I sent her a poem that I knew she needed. Thanks again, TT.
I am fortified.
In the blue hour, I ask for my council to surround me, then I listen. That's key, people. Oh, and on the eleven minute mark of random hours in the day.
You may believe this to be placebo, or better, delusion, I would. But if you could feel the love and calm… I hope you do.
I am fortified
It is 7:11 in the blue hour
You may believe this to be placebo, or better yet, delusion. I would too. Tina Turner agrees. But I wish for you the strong, calm love.
I have been told that I have TIna Turner legs, I don’t. Don’t you think I wanted to believe that?
I sit in the blue hour.
It all started in June.
I have been told I have Tina Turner legs, but friend, I acknowledge reality,
and (whisper) Tina Turner sends me messages as my spiritual guide.
WAKING BEFORE DAWN-A STAG AND DOE SONG:
Awaking before dawn
in my house by the highway,
as I have, since my son was born
I meditate in my true form.
In my house by the highway
it feels revelatory
to meditate in my true form,
as I search for the deepest silence.
It feels revelatory
to hold a deck of divination cards,
as I search for the deepest silence,
when my body feels most alive.
I hold a deck of divination cards,
as I have since my son was born,
when my body feels most alive—
awaking before dawn.
Great way to start a Sunday! Thank you Pádraig and this lovely community.
I cannot bear the Word.
I skip mass; delete emails from preachers.
It was Advent, time of hope.
Father renewed his driver’s license; mother deaf to my pleas; I stopped speaking to God.
I skip mass; delete emails from preachers.
I feel numb.
Father renewed his driver’s license; mother deaf to my pleas; I stopped speaking to God.
I miss that person. She had a softer heart.
I feel numb.
The iron cross greets me silent at the door.
I miss that person. She had a softer heart.
My body floats now, just above the mess, uncertain where to land.
The iron cross greets me silent at the door.
It was Advent, time of hope.
My body floats now, just above the mess, uncertain where to land.
I cannot bear the Word.
Okay 👍🏼- ( I wrote this / immediately on the back of the latest oil bill)
1. Ordinary for you: Space
2. Where? In the basement, near the laundry and the parakeets.
3. Time? The light changes- I get hungry - the dogs get hungry - the cat gets hungry - the other people get hungry -
4 other triggers?
It rained - then it rained again- then the ticks came in on the hungry animals-
5. The RAIN
6. What do I wish to say to a Tick ? STOP sucking our blood!!
7. Behold !! This crlinder full of Organic Flea/ Tick Repellent Spray !! It is a glorious - it smells divine!! People comment on how nice I smell- what is that cologne you are wearing?
8. Well thank you for the kind compliment!! My new dearest friend - shall we now saunter off into the landscape together confidently?