This is so full and true. It brings together the aching weight of a world filled with pain and how do we hold this and also hold the seemingly very safe and all consuming mundane. Just beautiful. Thank you for expressing this xx
Thank you so much, Angela. I was worried that it turned out too dark, or put my daughter in a bad light. But it’s also the truth of our life right now—devastation over the political landscape; seeking therapies for our huge variety of mental health concerns; and trying to see some (tiny) good moments in the middle of it.
This is just glorious, Nelly. I think your version is so lovely—what time is it being the first question—how often is that the first thing I say. How you and your sister hold your hands the same way, the days being colors, just magical. I’m going to save this one. It’s such a perfect poetry/journal exercise.
It's unfinished but I did type something into notes on Sunday.
Good morning (after Mary Oliver)
1. I wake not once, but many times. I stir each time a child stirs or let's out his or her animalistic waking groan. On my final wake, I rise and feel my bare feet touch the cool floor.
2. Starting slowly in sofa cuddles and cups of tea. We have no limits on screen time before sun rise.
3. The bustle of making breakfast. Pause. Through the stream rising from the kettle, I notice the grass outside is frost tipped.
Thanks for sharing yours too. It flows so peacefully (even if your morning was actually less peaceful!) and I really enjoyed your wandering thoughts. I'll revisit mine sometime to finish x
I sat down for yours. Thank you. I felt like I was there for a minute. "I wake not once, but many times." That first line. So good. So many 'good mornings' - thats another whole prompt you've given me there!!! Can we all just keep writing each other 'good mornings' - it is making me so happy x
Nelly, I ADORE this! 🤩 Both as a prompt and also your own response - I genuinely think you do yourself a disservice by saying Mary Oliver’s is far superior. I find them different but equal and there are so many gorgeously captured vignettes in your own version that I really love.
The opening really caught me: “What time is it?” is too often the first thing I say, as if the answer holds the truth of an entire day.
And the reflection on how you and your sister hold your hands in your lap on exactly the same way flooded me with warmth. Plus the lip balm. And the cake. This felt so intimate and loving.
I should probably send it to her actually. She doesn’t read much poetry, maybe this will work to keep wearing her down, haha. Thank you so much. They are kind words and they mean a lot x
In the morning
After Mary Oliver
.
1.
I wake when your hand touches my arm.
It’s almost nine o’clock, you say. In case we still want to go to church.
.
2.
As I walk down the stairs, screams rise to meet me.
One teen stands staring across the room to the tv
which the screaming child is furiously fast-fowarding,
rewinding, filled with rage. Another teen stares straight ahead
and my youngest stands at the far end of the room
surrounded by ragged dog toys, looking lost.
.
3.
I hold him on the couch when the screaming is done
when my daughter has found her calm again, just for a moment.
The dog bounces up from the ground to my lap, dropping a ball
and white vomit pours from his mouth down my leg.
.
4.
That was a lot for five minutes, wasn't it? my husband asks me
on the porch where we are figuring out the day. No church.
Just a moment for silence.
.
5.
An indigenous girl, fourteen years old, found dismembered
in Arizona. What is this country I call home?
How is it still this wicked?
.
6.
My oldest son sings about our dog. Every pop song gets adapted to his name.
.
7.
There isn’t really anything else, I tell myself. It’s all bad.
But the white lilac tree is showing green buds, because
it’s false spring. “Enjoy it while it lasts!” the newspaper
gloated last week. The pointed tips of tulips, the blueberry bush
waking up, stepping stones of fungus on the plum tree trunk.
Tell me how to make it matter
more than the darkness.
Oh that last verse. That last line. I feel that so very deeply. Thank you for putting into words something I think about a lot x
Thank you for making the space for this poem to happen, Nelly 💛. It helped me to feel a little less burdened after I wrote it.
This is so full and true. It brings together the aching weight of a world filled with pain and how do we hold this and also hold the seemingly very safe and all consuming mundane. Just beautiful. Thank you for expressing this xx
Thank you so much, Angela. I was worried that it turned out too dark, or put my daughter in a bad light. But it’s also the truth of our life right now—devastation over the political landscape; seeking therapies for our huge variety of mental health concerns; and trying to see some (tiny) good moments in the middle of it.
Margaret Ann, this is wonderful. I’m so excited by this exercise, with Nelly’s and your response.
Thank you, LeeAnn 💛.
This is just glorious, Nelly. I think your version is so lovely—what time is it being the first question—how often is that the first thing I say. How you and your sister hold your hands the same way, the days being colors, just magical. I’m going to save this one. It’s such a perfect poetry/journal exercise.
If you try it please can you share it, because I know yours would be something I’d want to read x
I will.
Oh shoot, I'm so out of practice. I'm not supposed to post my poem in this week's newsletter, right!?!? 😳
Post it wherever you like, I’m always just happy to read your words xx
😁😊
I love this sooooo much & now I want to try a list poem. I adore Mary Oliver too. Thank you for sharing this...
I love this!!
Thanks Alex, means a lot
Such a beautiful poem Nelly. I have just finished the prompt which I loved - so playful. And I can imagine repeating it afresh from time to time 💕
Ah wonderful. Thank you for letting me know, that made me smile. I might try it again too. I really like the idea of it being different every time. x
I love this prompt, thank you!
Hope you find a pocket of time to try it (and maybe share the results if you feel inclined - I am so greedy for poetry, haha) xx
It's unfinished but I did type something into notes on Sunday.
Good morning (after Mary Oliver)
1. I wake not once, but many times. I stir each time a child stirs or let's out his or her animalistic waking groan. On my final wake, I rise and feel my bare feet touch the cool floor.
2. Starting slowly in sofa cuddles and cups of tea. We have no limits on screen time before sun rise.
3. The bustle of making breakfast. Pause. Through the stream rising from the kettle, I notice the grass outside is frost tipped.
Thanks for sharing yours too. It flows so peacefully (even if your morning was actually less peaceful!) and I really enjoyed your wandering thoughts. I'll revisit mine sometime to finish x
I sat down for yours. Thank you. I felt like I was there for a minute. "I wake not once, but many times." That first line. So good. So many 'good mornings' - thats another whole prompt you've given me there!!! Can we all just keep writing each other 'good mornings' - it is making me so happy x
Thank you. It is so joyful. I think that's why I got so excited by the prompt and being reminded of Mary Oliver's beautiful Good Morning too!
‘Starting slowly on sofa cuddles and cups of tea’ 🤍
Nelly, I ADORE this! 🤩 Both as a prompt and also your own response - I genuinely think you do yourself a disservice by saying Mary Oliver’s is far superior. I find them different but equal and there are so many gorgeously captured vignettes in your own version that I really love.
The opening really caught me: “What time is it?” is too often the first thing I say, as if the answer holds the truth of an entire day.
And the reflection on how you and your sister hold your hands in your lap on exactly the same way flooded me with warmth. Plus the lip balm. And the cake. This felt so intimate and loving.
I should probably send it to her actually. She doesn’t read much poetry, maybe this will work to keep wearing her down, haha. Thank you so much. They are kind words and they mean a lot x
Here you go. Formatting is off, sorry. I’ll post in on Weds on my page with the correct form.
Good Morning - after Mary Oliver
1.
If the sun isn’t leeching round the curtain edges
it’s not morning and I won’t greet it.
The warm honey light must caress me awake:
must pour me into the world sticky with sweet sleep
still eager for more and still eager for the day ahead.
2.
I watch him sleep, he sleeps so much better than me,
cosily wrapped in the quilt, his face crumpled
the years long pull of gravity finally succeeding
to squash flesh. I often reach to cradle
his head under my hand, to stroke his hair,
occasionally to smell his cheek. I
don’t want to wake him, just drink him in.
3.
The view out the window changes daily
and yet is exactly the same.
Come rain or shine it exists to
thrill me in every season,
in every weather.
4.
I chose my day’s task carefully.
There can be only one,
I grin at the reference.
Today I should wash my hair but I rail against it,
‘I don’t want to!’ I shout, ‘It’s too hard.’
Really shout.
Thumping my fists into the bed
like the hoofbeats of a startled foal,
giddy and with no rhythm.
It feels good to let it out.
He smiles and hands me a cup of tea.
‘Don’t then.’ he says.
And I don’t.
5.
I measure heart rate and heart rate variability,
occasionally blood pressure,
and use these metrics to inform the day ahead.
A bit of medical science scattered into a creative day.
I like science and it’s certain facts, steadying, constant.
I like art, experimental, flighty, freeing.
6.
It’s time to move, to ease achy muscles and painful joints
into a different space.
To partake of the day, to shake the reluctance away,
like shaking water from the hair I will not wet today.
I move from yellow to green, from fresh to calming,
from bed to sofa
7.
This morning will fade soon, and the
light will crawl around the room,
creating rainbows on the walls from
the prisms in the windows.
Such delicious,
beautiful
startling
colourful
temporary decoration
like a sign that the day and I will endure
together.
Beautiful Tamsin! ‘The view out the window changes daily and yet is exactly the same.’ 💛
Ta muchly 😁
Oh Nelly what a gorgeous prompt and your poem is so beautiful. The flow and tiny endearing detail is delightful. Thank you for this 🫶🏽
I love your poem, Nelly.
"1.'What time is it?' is too often the first thing I say, as if the answer holds the truth of an entire day."--soooooo true.
I absolutely love this piece Nelly. Thank you xo
Thank you 🙏
#55! Where do the mornings go? Will try this soon.
Your poem is beautiful ✨ ‘ My sister! ‘ made my heart leap ❤️