When a Poem Comes A-Knocking

by Mary Jedlicka Humston

You know that napping sweet spot? That moment when you’re juuuust about to tumble headlong into slumber?
I approached this nirvana the other day, lying on my living room floor, only a whiff of angel dust away from heavenly bliss when…when…a poem intruded, and words jumbled around inside my sleepy head.
“Oh, no,” I moaned. “Not now. I’m too tired.”
And, so I ignored the words writing themselves into lines and then stanzas.
For one slight moment, I thought, (delusionally, of course), “Ah, yes. I will remember this poem when I wake up. I can just memorize it. Memorize it. Memorize it. I will. Yes, I will. I will. I will.” Pause. Deep sigh. “No, I won’t.”
After pushing up my energy-deprived body from the carpet, I grabbed a nearby paper and pen (writing paraphernalia is always nearby in a writer’s home). I blearily, wearily scribbled away.
The words threatening my repose were transferred to paper creating the bones of a poem now readied for more meat. I put the pen and paper by my side in case further inspiration ensued and then collapsed back into a heap.

croppillow3 (1)
Restless after that, I never fell asleep, but I did feel a bit more refreshed than before. And, I had a poem to work on.

That poem is listed below and is also on my Mary Jedlicka Humston Facebook author page.

After the Storms: Early July 2016
by Mary Jedlicka Humston

Luminiferous lasering skies.
Thunderous baritone booms.
Downpours, drenched with
sorrow, despair, uncertainty.

Raucous silences echo within.
Where to go from here?
Where to go from here?
Where? To? Go? From? Here?

Let us start with drizzles of faith.
Mists of peace. Fog-free futures.
Sprinkles of unity, community.
Building, building, building
into
welcoming deluges of
Hope. Hope. Hope. Hope.

That is where we go from here.

mary humston

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