Monday, April 5, 2010

Tuesday Poem

And so my question is
Can you write a poem
When you’re slumped in a chair
And your fingers are soiled
And the brown shirt is
The only one that
Suits you today
And even though
You’re just home
From a retreat where
Deep silence and
Thoughts of light
And mystery
And the stuff
Of meaning
Filled every
Single day
All you know
Right now
Is your nails
Are grubby
And the cat
Wants food
Well can you?

pam m


  1. You dunnit! Welcome home, cadent poet.

  2. So you're not painting your nails anymore Pam? (lol - as my daughter would say). Thanks for writing a Tuesday Poem - I know that feeling after a 'retreat' - the ordinariness of things - the light falls differently on things...

  3. How often this seems to be the way... The sacred and the grubby kneeling side-by-side, turning over the same patch of soil. Their common goal? Bounty. A healthy yield...
    Lovely to know you're home. X

  4. Hi p,m and c, thanks for responding to my Tuesday offering. Yes Mary, those nails had only the briefest of forays into elegance. Yesterday they went weed hunting. Turning the clod. Thanks for the image of side by side on muddy knees clarab. How close they crouch at times!