Don’t

Today is the last day of April! I love the adrenaline of poeming in April, always a little jittery, not sure I can pull anything out of the old noggin. But oy, am I ever glad when it’s done. I imagine it feels a little like finishing a marathon, though I wouldn’t know anything about that. Today’s Tuesday double prompt on Poetic Asides is to write a Stop/Don’t Stop poem.

Don’t. Don’t do it.
Don’t wait for the right time,
for some sublime exacting moment,
for the torment of inaction
to fracture your momentum.

Jump right into the story. Don’t stop
planning, plotting, dreaming.
Your days of glory seem so distant,
but this is the instant you must engage.

Step onto the stage. Stop waiting,
stop negating your own power.
It’s your hour. The curtain’s rising.
Surprise us all.

Stop / Don’t Stop

Today’s prompt is to write a stop/don’t stop poem. I’m tired and my fingers are still struggling to learn how to type on the phone, so there’s a typo again. Sigh.

Some Quotations for the evening:

“The greatest danger to our future is apathy.” —Jane Goodall
***
Make space in this house
for all of the people you are.
Make room for the schemer,
the doubter, the cynic,
but open some space
for the credulous child
and the mystic, the dreamer,
the wild one, the quiet one.

Open a space within
for the glass-half-full to dance
with the glass-half-empty,
for the monk to sing songs
of revolution with the fury.

There in those rooms,
the One may enter
and speak your many names,
saying, Peace be yours.
—Beth Weaver-Kreider
***
“Did I offer peace today? Did I bring a smile to someone’s face? Did I say words of healing? Did I let go of my anger and resentment? Did I forgive? Did I love? These are the real questions. I must trust that the little bit of love that I sow now will bear many fruits, here in this world and the life to come.” —Henri Nouwen
***
“In the end, we’ll all become stories.” —Margaret Atwood
***
“Privilege is when you think something’s not a problem because it’s not a problem to you personally.” —attributed to many authors
***
Dea Ex Machina

What we speak
we create.
Writing,
we make meaning
into existence.

These words, cogs
and gears, shift
meaning to matter:

“Let there be. . .”
And there is.

And it is good.
—Beth Weaver-Kreider