Book Order Blues

Jeb wakes before the sun and emerges from his bedroom clutching the latest Scholastic book order catalogue.  He wants to sit together and peruse his top picks.

Ever-supportive of nurturing the love of reading, I acquiesce and surrender my writing hour to a different kind of literary exercise.  Flipping past Amelia Bedelia and Captain Underpants, my son goes straight to the featured Lego section.  I wish that I could craft this post to reflect my pride in his earnest bookwormishness.  But alas, that would be misleading.

In reality, his aim was in another vein.  His index finger pointing to the highlighted Lego DS video game, available for only $20.

Bypassing nearly all things book, my morning writing was being thwarted by an electronic game and the ensuing push and pull of “please, mom, please, this is the only thing I want to buy.


No poetry to post this morning or any kind of inspired perspective.  The Scholastic book order form has been temporarily shelved, though I’m not budging on my refusal to purchase video games through the school’s book catalogue.

Come on, Scholastic!  Give a mom a break.

Well, I’m laughing, actually.  I guess they gave me a post.  Even if it is completely mundane.

Seeking the Subtle Thread

It’s one of those kind of days.  3am and a To Do list.

Yesterday I was liquid, alive in exotic locales.  Swirling in music:  Bon Iver, Gillian Welch, Scott Matthews.

This morning, there are no artful photographic images.  No graceful alliterations to spout forth.

Just a sharpened pencil outlining a list.  PDFs of school calendars.  Bank statements and a calculator.

I tell myself there is an art to this.  This practical living we all dance through.  That there must be some merit in writing about the most mundane.  Some inspiration in the quest to find the magic.

The seeking of some satiating thread (so subtle), in even this most parched scape.

Aloe Vera and the Ganges

I spend the early dark of morning
in headphones
Eddie Vedder singing Cat Stevens
Gillian Welch and David Rawlings

writing poetry

Himalayan waterfalls and desire
too close to disclose
I swirl in sunrise and feeling
in my writing hour
I am alive

when motherhood calls

Jeb’s sunburn throbbing
his small red shoulders pull me
from foreign lands and eddies
back to thick aloe goo
soothing skin with words
blowing cool upon his back
easing tears

this morning
I am seeping liquid
spread out all over this world

courtesy of rob's lensonlife