Kckerrie
She Was Tired Of Lugging Her Regrets Around 0
by kckerrie
She was tired of
lugging her regrets
around with her
everywhere she went,
so she decided
to unpack them carefully,
one by one
and ceremoniously
bid each of them
adieu.
#lamppostpoetrybykckerrie
submitted by cs murphy
- Catherine Schmid Murphy
Poetry Is Not Remarkable 0
by kckerrie
Poetry is not remarkable.
Poetry is merely observation.
Poetry is narration.
Confession.
Poetry connects Life, to the Living
and poetry connects the Living, to Life.
submitted by cs murphy
- Catherine Schmid Murphy
TAP TAP TAP 0
by kckerrie
She enjoyed being a writer
more than anything else
and she took her craft, very seriously.
But occasionally_
she would find herself
randomly pressing keys
on her typewriter
and for no other reason than that
she liked the sounds that
the keys would make.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Click. Click. Click.
It was like Music.
submitted by cs murphy
- Catherine Schmid Murphy
A Moment Of Revelation 0
by kckerrie
and then,
a moment-of
Revelation,
came to her-
that chance
and deliberateness
had never been
in competition
with one another
- Catherine Schmid Murphy
I Write 0
by kckerrie August 27, 2020
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Some people shop, snack,
drink or complain.
I write.
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submitted by cs murphy 9-27-2020
- Catherine Schmid Murphy
I Went Outside In My Yard Today 0
by kckerrie
I went outside in my yard today.
random;
or so I thought.
And I chose my spot.
I lowered my body onto that spot - and bending my legs, I closed my eyes and lowered my belly toward the ground.
My head to the green grass and my belly,
directly
to the flat earth.
And there I laid.
Where willfully I surrendered for
a time
and with deliberateness,
I listened.
Listening
to the birds
Listening to the squirells jumping, swinging and shimmying.
Listening to the beating of my own heart
from just the other side of my pressed ear and just behind my right eye.
And heard the many sounds the traffic makes, from off and away.
I listened to the trains whistle as they’d move by; mightily, rumbing the earth.
I then yielded completely
as I welcomed the uninvited showings from many other sounds that had been tentative of me or unfamiliar;
all while curled up into a soft pulse of moving and shifting air;
of both highs and lows.
The prickling grass tickled my cheek as my belly grew warm and damp and soft.
All while I listened, still and purposeful.
I acquiesced to it all
as if to a test of my Restoration.
And so in its conclusion ,
having named each and all present and observable sounds — as my now reassuring Companions.
submitted by cs murphy 9-21-20
- Catherine Schmid Murphy
