Monday Morning Share

Many of you who read this post have already seen the poem below, but I want to have it here because it feels like the right place for it. I usually write poetry when I feel inspired to do so, & I've been feeling the tug of a poem over the past few days.  I'll show it to you when it's finished. Happy Monday everybody.

Anthem to Creativity
by Jodi Combs-Kalla, 2010

Creative urge
You loiter
Like a house ghost.
You’re a scorpion’s sting
Who sometimes plagues me
Too long.
But if I’m lucky,
You’re my chance
To
Jump
And
Skip
Through a dense briar patch
Of color and words,
And chisel and paint,
Dusty charcoal sticks
Or a brush that fits my hand
Just
Right,
To breathe
& think over
The thoughts
That keep me thinking
Until 4 A.M. when
The Mourning Dove moans
A breath of life
Into the death of darkness,
And early light shrieks
Like a heartache, I search
For something solid to lean onto,
To say something/anything
Anything
In the same way young Harrison glowed
When he drew cartoons
On the tennis court with white chalk
When we yelled “Let's go! ”
That chilly spring day
And he said
“Hey,
Wait a minute,
Something’s missing here.
I gotta finish this drawing.”
We laughed
Because he was right.
A young and beautiful blue-eyed boy
had been drawn in,
into the grips of drawing
and the things that make a day
feel worth finishing
with a big fat grin,
A hug,
And a pat on everyone's back.

Creative force, with you
I’m a hummingbird, gathering
From a Yellow Bell bloom
Flying inside
& out
& back again, looking
For any answer I can find,
Any cloud to wash away
Any tear to shed
Any line to erase, lingering
On the threshold,
Where the red blood
Of a new idea flows.

Creative surge
You’re a fresh wound
Demanding a full dose of
“I believe I can do this.”
You’re a sunset
Who reaches out, who
Grabs my throat
And whispers Choke,
Cry if you have to
But I'm not going anywhere.
You pull me
In five or six or seven directions.
I have no choice except
To follow
And when I’ve ripped and
When I’ve torn away
From your grip, even then
I know nothing really,
Except that I have to assemble,
Glue, paint, arrange
And rearrange words,
Look and see,
Feel and hear,
Cry and die, hoping
You will show me
Or I can show you
Who I am by what I add
To what would otherwise be
A day of what-ifs.
So with your help
I can safely face
An open blank space
Of nothingness
Knowing my day will end
With a big fat grin,
A hug and
A pat on everyone's back.