I used to write "poems" or something like it, every so often. Once I took a whole class devoted to poetry just so that my student loans wouldn't go into repayment. Trickster.
I've thought about doing poem challenges - like, "write a poem a day" or something like that. I'm not sure how to do that. Maybe I should make it harder, like "Write a poem once a day, and make it rhyme or stay away." (Did you like that? Do you see what I did there?)
And also once, one of my very, very bestest friends asked to read some of my poems. And I never let her - whoops. So here it is. I wrote this one in the class that I wasn't allowed to write ryhming poems in.
It's called Mine*.
*(Please note, while this poem does bear some resemblence to reality, I'm not sure I ever woke up at 5am to go running -while- having children. There were other times. Other cold, dark, wake up my friends who live at Hampton times to train for half marathon times...shudder)
Mine
At 5 a.m. I plan to make a stand
in which I will not let the alarm clock
buzz one more time and I will rise
one foot, then the other, next the body
and finally the mind all scrambling
to remember the desire of my body
to hit the trail and run.
At 6 a.m. I stop to pant and breathe
and let the sweet release of salt
and sweat fall from my brow and
drop to a broken world, one which I can
not fix nor anymore hear above
my pounding heart.
At 7 a.m. I relent and feel my body drift
into the steam from water hot
enough to make a cup of tea
that convinces me
today I can stand the hottest
pressure from the world
against my scalding skin.
At 8am she stirs and the rest
is just a blur of seconds, minutes
hours that no longer belong to me.
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