Saturday, November 20, 2010

the poet of your own life

simply my favorite

These are the poems I do not write,
the sonnets of my daily life…as simple as a glass of water. I open the windows and whisper them to the stars each evening ~ an ode of my own sorts to a life poetically lived, ~ Maddie

What are the poems you do not write? And how do you write them? With your camera? Your soft voice in response to your children? Your graceful dancing? Your loving, thoughtful cards that always arrive on time?

Tell me. How are you the poet of your own life?


Jakki said...

I write my poetry with
my camera (of course, LOL)
my glances of love
my hands too touch
and my hugs

lovely quote to match your words and feelings...Perfect

Joanna said...

By noticing and remarking on the beauty in life, showcasing the beauty of the garden in such a way that birds, flowers and butterflies can be seen n all their glory. and bringing nature into the home to be admired and truly looked at.

Interesting post, Relyn.


Erin Wallace said...

I think my poems happen durin gmy quite moments with William. Stroking his hair while he sleeps, tickles and kisses when he is awake.

lakeviewer said...

What a beautiful sentiment expressed here! Yes, the poems we don't write are expressed in so many different ways.

smith kaich jones said...

i stand in the rain and that is poetry ~ i let it wash over me. i open my upturned palms to the wind and falling leaves, i show my face to the moon. i tell you about those moments, but the telling is not the poetry. the standing still is.


Char said...

hopefully with my camera...and i watch it dance in the light on the leaves, feel in the whisper of wind on my skin, touch it in the small acorns and the brittle surrounds me.

Jennifer Richardson said...

oh what a beautiful thought.
I think the poetry
happens with perspective
...with what I choose to see
and hear
and believe
and remember
and celebrate
and feel.
I'm in awe
right now
over this thought you've handed me,
like a ripe fruit
to be tasted.
Thank you for sharing,

ELK said...

oh how special ..with snips of paper and cloth and short words these days...

Rita said...

I don't know about mine, but I think yours are the wonderful cards that you write. I have been the recipient of them many times and they are always so uplifting. Thank you for sharing them with me. I love you.

Marilyn said...

I wake during the night to dreams or words I do not know. My mind dances with thoughts and plays with me, it tickles me and makes me sad. I don't often write them down until I know I must to remove them from my head. I listen, listen to the words. They dance their dance for me until I submit.

How is it you get me to say things I didn't know needed saying?

Kelli said...

Love this post, Relyn! :) Love it! And here are my thoughts on the matter...

I am the poet of my life
Each moment of the day;
In thoughts I think and words I speak;
Each action that I take.
From the crowing of the rooster
'Til the setting of the sun,
Each day is but another page
That I may write upon.
I pray that my example be
To laugh, to love, to give;
To benefit each witness
Of this poem that I live.

Derrick said...

Well, I'm just ME, Relyn. Poetry in motion!

Amy said...

Oh, I do love that thought ... "poems I do not write, the sonnets of my daily life ... " sigh.

Patti said...

My poems that I do not write are in the breaths of the everyday moments- between the words- that's where they reside...

elizabeth said...

Is that Maddie of Persisting Stars? (Clearly I did not click on the link ;) When I think of poets, I think of her.

My photos are my poems. Definitely.

meeta said...

The poems i do not write are kept as memories cherished of moments, of sounds,of encounters i had...'cuz i lived in those moments as me..through my joy, my sorrow, my laughter and my tears and forget to pen 'em into words, capture them in my camera or through my brush..I caught 'em and weaved 'em into the fabric of my memory..which when i take out of closet some day to wear, bring to me smile reminding of the happy times that have gone by and of many more times that shall come my way again.

Jaime said...

Each and every moment is a little tiny poem.

Oldies, but Goodies