Friday, November 02, 2007

There truly are some things money just cannot buy. Ecstasy, like a four-year-old child's when she gets to play, wildly, loudly, with abandon--this has no price. How she closes her eyes, frames her face, and takes a deep breath standing in a slash of sunlight--this laces itself through my memories...this holds when other things break, clatter to the ground, or fall apart. I am in love with this spirit of joy and work every single day to revel in the little things that give me pleasure.

As predicted, a poem visited me late after I'd already doused the lights and tucked into bed--hungry for sleep. I found myself plodding down the stairs into the kitchen, weary but excited with my mad crush on words...a blanket on my lap, a dog snoring at my side, I opened my notebook sideways and let the images tumble out. Something about the night, about the possessed way this writing came meant that I couldn't dream of writing upright--of writing logically. No, this was poetry and I'd all but provoked her to come and shake me awake.

This morning, I woke with a smile on my face like I'd had some wild affair in the darkest hours--which, in many ways I guess I did. An affair with my own raw mind, a passion to finally tell the truth, which only seems to filter through me in poetry. These poems will not buy me a loaf of bread, but they fed me nonetheless. They may never show themselves beyond the confines of my notebook, but they've revealed what they needed to about that wildness inside of me. I was able to play, to stand in a fragment of moonlight on the kitchen floor, to breathe, and to run my pen across the page, mapping my own hard-earned delight.
Link

21 Comments:

Blogger Ther said...

Wow. You write deep and strong. I, too, write about children but in a different perspective. Love the picture. It's very apt for your prompt take.

1:05 PM  
Blogger acumamakiki said...

if it's even possible, your writing is more inspired brilliance D, truly. this photo, the energy and strength behind what you're writing...i get goosebumps for you my friend. xo

3:28 PM  
Blogger tumblewords said...

Oh, lovely! Your post reads like wonderfully worded poetry, shares emotion, magical excitement and the willingness to be free of internal editors and rulers. I love it!

5:52 PM  
Blogger jillypoet said...

Hey Delia, I want to read your poem! You describe it so beautifully, the way it came to you, the way you wrote it...Isn't it hard, sometimes, to honor the muse's fickle hours?

10:00 PM  
Blogger paisley said...

bravo... as it should be... and often is when one dances with words.....

10:04 PM  
Blogger Catherine said...

What an amazing photo! I'd like to see the poem, too

6:44 AM  
Blogger Remiman said...

LHT,
Poetry let's you suspend the ego, reach into the best part of you and tell the truth without the sham. The payment in mental soaring is beyond counting. Good for you. :)
rel

8:03 AM  
Anonymous gautami tripathy said...

Money can't buy a child's laughter. Nor the writing and sharing of poetry...

9:12 AM  
Blogger January said...

"These poems will not buy me a loaf of bread, but they fed me nonetheless."

So true. Poetry feeds the soul.

2:23 PM  
Blogger odessa said...

wow, this post just sings to me! and i love the picture of your daughter. such pure, uncomplicated joy.

"to run my pen across the page, mapping my own hard-earned delight." --- so beautiful. so true.

3:01 PM  
Blogger Colorsonmymind said...

Oh my firstly that photograph is pure joy. Beautiful.
And then the writing....honey I just want to gobble up your words, they are a delectible treat. Should that be an a? Anyway I really do feel so satisfied after reading your musings.

Hugs and love

6:26 AM  
Blogger Cloudscome said...

Beautiful.

6:41 AM  
Blogger paris parfait said...

Oh Delia, I was hoping you'd post your poem. Sometimes the process is wonderful, like your experience. Sometimes it's awful, as depicted in Jack Kerouac's words above. (Funny but I was talking about him to some California guests just last night). That photograph is priceless - just stunning. And your writing is so beautiful. You'll be happy to know the package left Friday! xo

9:25 AM  
Anonymous Secret Agent Mama said...

I love your writing! WOW!

11:26 AM  
Anonymous kimberley said...

The picture is exceptional - the subject and the photographer. I like the connection between your child's joy and your joy scribbling across the page.

And thanks for the encouragement you left at my blog :)

2:25 PM  
Blogger Jo said...

This is a wonderful post, but I couldn't get the poem link to work?

5:04 PM  
Blogger Left-handed Trees... said...

Thank you all for the comments about my writing here...it is such sweetness.

I may share the poem yet--this is Nablopomo, after all, and I might need the material ;)--but, for now, I'm honoring the rawness of the writing by keeping it close to me.

I loved each of these comments!
Love,
D.

10:18 AM  
Anonymous UL said...

This is absolutely true, some things in life are priceless...how do I get to read the poetry? I couldnt access the link

10:20 AM  
Blogger daisies said...

beautiful sunlit love ~ your words dig so beautifully deep, grabbing magic and flicking it out at the sunbeam smiles. i love that you are posting everyday :) much love. xox

4:17 PM  
Blogger Michelle (a.k.a. la vie en rose) said...

yes, yes, yes! i have journals and journal full of words that will never feed me but feeds me none the less...

ps--gorgeous pic!

2:50 PM  
Blogger Amber said...

That is adorable. Pure.

:)

3:34 PM  

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