A place to gather words before they get lost.
Day 18 my father believed in gardens delighting at burying each thing in its potential for growth — Kaveh Akbar, What Seems Like Joy https://poets.org/poem/what-seems-joy
All we ever planted were tomatoes and maybe some peppers along the edge of the cement in our apartment block right there where the sun touched every day and my father would wonder where the tomatoes had gone and I would shrug in silent bafflement while wiping the seeds and remains off my lips
for Advent Of Joy
Day 17 There is no loneliness like theirs — Jeffrey Wright, A Blessing https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/46481/a-blessing
An old scarf worn loose on the shoulder, nearly falling until her fingers reach up to set me straight, and I only realize in that tender moment of hers the cold air that's been consuming me all this time, my mind so lost, so deep in thought
for Advent Of Joy
Day 16
I will wander to the woodland Where the laden trees await — Paul Laurence Dunbar, Nutting Song https://discoverpoetry.com/poems/paul-laurence-dunbar/nutting-song/
Pausing, in my walking, to ponder the sound of the wood and all that we should appreciate in these days of constant rambles – this quiet reduces the daily chaos to shambles - and I am now following the fox into who knows where
for Advent Of Joy
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