Day 15 And he sings all the day — Lucy Larcom, The Brown Thrush https://discoverpoetry.com/poems/lucy-larcom/the-brown-thrush/
Every stick, a stage
the tree, as theater
us, as audience
for Advent Of Joy
A place to gather words before they get lost.
Day 15 And he sings all the day — Lucy Larcom, The Brown Thrush https://discoverpoetry.com/poems/lucy-larcom/the-brown-thrush/
Every stick, a stage
the tree, as theater
us, as audience
for Advent Of Joy
Merely a dusting, with only the skittering tracks of night creatures
for Algot
Day 14 And is not the lute that soothes your spirit, the very wood that was hollowed with knives? – Kahlil Gibran, On Joy and Sorrow https://poets.org/poem/joy-and-sorrow
Its lonesome song – merely breath - made hollow by the work of hands on wood
And if I could, I'd catch that note - I'd let it float into the air of a constellation sky
for Advent Of Joy
Day 13 I abandon myself to joy — Clarissa Scott Delaney, Joy https://poets.org/poem/joy-0
Something of a release in the way you smile, a quiet reminder - the look in your eyes - remembering joy
for Advent Of Joy
Day 12 “trying to think and all I come up with is a texture without ideas” — Brian Teare, When we are on the right track we are rewarded with joy https://poets.org/poem/when-we-are-right-track-we-are-rewarded-joy
As if I might rub to the surface another poem on the page, or another song, with lyrics, lost
Some days, I feel abandoned by the muse
Other days, she resides so deep in me, it's as if we're in constant conversation; art, without words
for Advent of Joy
Day 11 “he always paints another” – Abbie Kiefer, On “The Joy of Painting,” at 3 A.M., Bob Ross Promises Anyone Can Do This https://poets.org/poem/joy-painting-3-am-bob-ross-promises-anyone-can-do
Ink spots on fingertips and a bit of green paint on the lips from lost thoughts caught up in a moment of wonder, staring at an empty canvas
for Advent Of Joy
Day 10 “Whose sun falls across these pages” — Stephen Kuusisto, Dark Joys https://poets.org/poem/dark-joys
Shadows in dispersion across black font letters building out songs – short poems, too - all scratched against the seam of white paper, the edge of my hand knotted with smudged graphite from leaning too far into text — maybe I am both absence and the sun
for Advent Of Joy
Day 9 “Dark was the night save for the snow’s weird light” — Claude McKay, “Morning Joy” https://poets.org/poem/morning-joy
Yet upon the horizon - Mercury, with its glimmer of possibilities, and Jupiter, not far to follow; Sometimes, the dark unveils what would otherwise remain hidden
inspired by https://docs.google.com/presentation/d/1Wj3kZufH72IdE7QZbN9WJZU4xWNxhVzM-vik2g1QQoM/present#slide=id.p
Day 8 “I gazed—and gazed—but little thought” — William Wordsworth, I Wandered Lonely As A Cloud https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/45521/i-wandered-lonely-as-a-cloud
These Forget-Me-Nots remind me of the summer we began dancing in the field of small blue flowers to a music in our mind – you humming a melody as I sang a wordless song, trailing just behind
Remnants of a moon; night dust and refracted light slumbering on glass
for Algot