jillypoet: mom trying to write

Each day I wish I had invented waterproof sticky notes (for shower inspiration) or pen-friendly diapers to get down all my quirky thoughts that I am sure are relevant and publishable. And so God (actually another writer-mommy) sent me The Blog.

Wednesday, August 16, 2006

Morning haiku at my house

After reading haiku on One Deep Breath and listening to Norah Jones (and yes, drinking the little margarita my husband made me), I was pretty mellow last night. I was hearkened back to the first time I took a yoga class. I was, once again, in a dimly lit room, relaxed on a soft blue mat, entranced by the instructor's soothing voice, amazed by the revelation that breath can calm you. Breath. Yes! Your very own breath can calm and center you. You need but to breathe, just be aware of your breath and breathe, deeply and evenly, not in jagged, anxious puffs whenever you remember to.

This is how I went to bed.

At 1 am I calmly rocked the baby back to sleep. I breathed with her. We were calm. We breathed. In one gentle breath I slid her into her crib and I slid back into bed. Breathing.

At 4 am I breathed through the four-year-old's elbows in my back. Breathe. Just breathe. I breathed through knees and elbows and one knobby little noggin massaging the spaces between my backbones, poking the small of my back where I carry my worries. I breathed pointy big toes out of my ribs. This is my bed where I sleep and breathe.

At 6 am I was vaguely aware that soon I would be breathing the aroma of my husband's perfect blend, the earthy scent slipping down the hall from the kitchen, in from the open windows, wrapping me in the warm blanket of the first cup of coffee. Morning breath awaits me. I imagined sliding out of bed, gliding to the kitchen, sipping coffee while the sun rises, drinking the morning up, breathing deep from the day's first blessings, the pure scent of water and bean. Writing haiku. Filling the air with clear, syllabic morning song.

At 6:30 my breath resonated with the staccato beat of four-year-old feet running up and down the hall. Don't. Wake. Up. Your. Sister. Whisper.

At 7 am, pen in hand, I sallied forth to pour coffee in cup, words on page. Did I mention the baby and the four-year-old? What follows is the pure poetry of chaos, holy haiku of hell. OK, I exaggerate a little!

The first haiku is the ONLY thing I managed to write in the morning hours. Then three more, plus a lovely "child-ku," written in true child style with no syllable count, no rhyme, no plan, just random thoughts.

Indeed, the rest of the haiku were beautiful. Then I tried to publish and blogger, or my husband stealing my WiFi, or evil haiku hating gnomes, ate my whole post. This whole thing has been recreated from a beautiful, wonderful first draft. Poof. Into thin air. Thin, horrible computer nowhere land.

In the spirit of breathing and calmly centering onself in the face of adversity, I will try to
recreate the beautiful haiku I wrote tonight before the EVIL GNOMES struck. Thank you for reading. And breathing!

Hot black stream pouring
like summer rain. Cream lightens
tan beauty. Drink now.

Slick dark stream slides down
falling black as nightime rain,
tilt head back and drink.

Hissing steam strikes note
applause splashes cup's bottom
morning chorus bows.

Shining black water
falls like a line of dark stars
cream--the milky way.

Child-Ku, or: Morning Haiku with Thirsty Four-Year-Old

Trying to write haiku
and pour
morning coffee
while four-year-old pours
orange citrus spark
Tropicana Twister.
Neon spray stops pen.
Curly straw,
now two,
too tall for short cup.
Cream will wait.
Coffee will wait.
Words will not.
Syllables slips away into steam.
Hot black moment is gone.


Blogger Jennifer said...

welcome to ODB! Glad you found us... Love the haiku. You do have a way with words.

Ah, yes - breathe

9:20 AM  
Blogger deirdre said...

I like the way you weave the breath through this piece. Nice reminder to breathe. The poems are beautiful.

9:59 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

My favorite part of this post is your description of your night, especially describing your son in bed with you. there's a poem in that paragraph!

my favorite haiku is the first one on coffee. it seems so fresh. so "staccato," or something, like that's all you can muster until caffeine reaches brain . . . "drink now." perfect!

2:46 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

I too enjoyed your night of breathing. Being substantially more than 30-something, I remember those nights. I did not have the wisdom to simply breathe through. I do nowadays but it is too late for my children's upbringing.

I'm a Haiku reader/writer - you've reminded me to include some on my own blog. I enjoyed this post - off to read some more of yours now.

4:48 PM  
Anonymous Sandy said...

If you can be creative while doing all of that, you must be some writer! Nice!

5:38 PM  
Blogger Tammy said...

I had fun here reading about your life. You have an obvious gift :) I smiled to the end. You haiku were awesome and creative.

You are a welcome addition!

5:43 PM  
Blogger susanlavonne said...

your haiku are terrific! so glad you found us at ODB...i especially like the rain imagery in your poems...sure hope you keep coming back :-)

9:34 PM  

Post a Comment

<< Home