Monday, the last February day in 2016 “It can be your brain, your
fingers, your toes,
You can listen anywhere”
Poems appear sometimes like this — a friend sends me a poem; it sits on the edge of awareness for 2 months; I finally notice the poem, read it, am moved by it, look around internet places to learn a little about the poet, and write a post to contextualize it. Paying attention to one poem (i.e., last Friday’s about the little girl and the table cloth) introduces me to a poetry list titled “Poetry — for better or worse: My favorite poems, one by one” at a cheeky website http://tiltingourheadsup.blogspot.com. So far I have not found the editor’s name.
For the last day in February, how do you like this poem, written by a fifth grader? It reminds me to thank February, 2016 for its blessings. Have a good day. Aloud w. pauses.
Today’s Post: “Waiting in Line”:
[Curator’s note: Nick Penna was in fifth grade when he wrote this poem.]
When you listen you reach
into dark corners and
pull out your wonders.
When you listen your
ideas come in and out
like they were waiting in line.
Your ears don’t always listen.
It can be your brain, your
fingers, your toes.
You can listen anywhere.
Your mind might not want to go.
If you can listen you can find
answers to questions you didn’t know.
If you have listened, truly
listened, you don’t find your
Waiting in Line, Nick Penna from Poetic Medicine, the Healing Art of Poem Making”, John Fox @ Jeremy P Tarcher, Putnam 1997
Posted in “A Year of Being Here” Phyllis Cole-Dai January 29, 2013