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December 24, 2016

We are all on the same schedule.
The cats, in some Pavlovian
Evolution, know the alarm
Will sound, bladders full,

They pounce, meow,
Knock things off of the counter.
A pre-alarm wake-up chirp.
These fuzzy greeters,

Each day, welcome the joy
Of just being alive
And waking to cat treats,
Kisses, and pats.

Dishes full and water refreshed.
Remember that. Each day
You wake up, you are
Already blossoming.

This is Poem #225 from the  Poem (almost) Everyday Project. Starting in mid-January 2016, I challenged myself to spend a year in which I’d wake most mornings and write a poem before my first cup of coffee. By the end of the year,  I had written 241 poems.  Here, I have published second drafts of  those pieces copied directly from my journal with minimal editing from their “vomit draft” state.

December 12, 2016

These days technology
Helps us to predict
The likelihood of that happy
phone call. By mid-

afternoon, Zoe, for
Snow Day Calculator
Was at 90%!
Phone tree, oh, phone tree!

Even teachers dance
for happiness
When their schools
Appear on WMUR.

This is Poem #218 from the  Poem (almost) Everyday Project. Starting in mid-January 2016, I challenged myself to spend a year in which I’d wake most mornings and write a poem before my first cup of coffee. By the end of the year,  I had written 241 poems.  Here, I have published second drafts of  those pieces copied directly from my journal with minimal editing from their “vomit draft” state.

December 9, 2016

All morning, sleek balls
Of fur wrangle across the hard wood.
A mouse of yarn - untwined -
And claws in the easy chair.

Enemies or friends - transition
Flows. Words hide for a description that
Cannot be named. Where

Do cats go when they leave
My bed at three a.m.
To travel our dark house?

Adventures outside
of empty food bowls
And litter boxes waiting to be scooped.

This is Poem #215 from the  Poem (almost) Everyday Project. Starting in mid-January 2016, I challenged myself to spend a year in which I’d wake most mornings and write a poem before my first cup of coffee. By the end of the year,  I had written 241 poems.  Here, I have published second drafts of  those pieces copied directly from my journal with minimal editing from their “vomit draft” state.

October 10, 2016

have           a
vac uum heart.

Nothing, there, can break
down and digest food

made of hate and ignorance
or self
sat is fied pats
on one's own back.

Joy
leaps
but a force

field deflects like
the Death Star spiraling and

exploding and

gone.

This is Poem #179 from the  Poem (almost) Everyday Project. Starting in mid-January 2016, I challenged myself to spend a year in which I’d wake most mornings and write a poem before my first cup of coffee. By the end of the year,  I had written 241 poems.  Here, I have published second drafts of  those pieces copied directly from my journal with minimal editing from their “vomit draft” state. 

This one drew on an expansion of some lines from #178 “Joy.”

October 10, 2016

We're often asked
What brings it to us.
How does that emotion

That makes mornings welcome
Leak from reading a book,
A playful kitten, our own

Beautiful children? Even
Work can bring it when
We've found the right path

And are allowed to choose
The turns we'll take
Or when to pause in the road.

Some have a vacuum heart -
Where nothing can break
Down hate or ignorance

Or self-satisfied pats
On one's own back - Joy
Leaps toward but a force

Field deflects like
The Death Star spiraling,
And exploding, and gone.


This is Poem #178 from the  Poem (almost) Everyday Project. Starting in mid-January 2016, I challenged myself to spend a year in which I’d wake most mornings and write a poem before my first cup of coffee. By the end of the year,  I had written 241 poems.  Here, I have published second drafts of  those pieces copied directly from my journal with minimal editing from their “vomit draft” state. 

Happiness tips his hat in Central Park

 

Yesterday, you posted

A picture of happiness

As it walked upon

Proteins in the brain.

 

Joy strolled upon

Joy upon joy –

Green and orange

 

And filigree. Restore

Parasols in parks, stop

At the hot dog vendor, he’ll

Tip his hat to passersby –

 

Sorrow, contempt, wrath –

 

Will they respond

In kind? When

It rains does

 

Happiness take his

Umbrella or wear

Sunglasses when it’s

 

So bright that some sort

Of sunshine beams in

Though each Ear

Canal, nostril, his

Mouth? All  transit

Authorities letting information

 

From an outside world in. Determined,

Joy will indeed leave

His cane with cape and cap,

 

Trek the mountain unassisted.

 

This is Poem #16 from the  Poem (almost) Everyday Project. Starting in mid-January 2016, I decided for one year to wake mornings and write a poem before my first cup of coffee on each day that I didn’t teach. I was working part-time then, so in the end I wrote 241 poems.  These are second drafts of  those pieces copied directly from my journal with minimal editing from their “vomit draft” state.

I appreciate your feedback as these poems are not “finished”, and I intend to go back into many of them in the future.

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