When I was 14 I used to write a poem or two or ten every day. I have notebook upon notebook. Just those plain black coiled notebooks. Most of it is TERRIBLE. I was never formally trained so they have no rhythm and I couldn’t tell you what type of poem any poem is- of mine or anyone else. I grew up completely enamored with Lord Alfred Tennyson and E.E. Cummings and read their poetry over and over. Growing older I realized some song lyrics are very much poetry as well; such as everything by Leonard Cohen and Hawksley Workman’s album “(Last Night We Were) The Delicious Wolves”. So that is my only “training” and since I turned 16 I haven’t written anything really. So here is the third poem I have written since 16 (almost 20 years ago now)- a rambling piece about my daughter.
Your Raw Energy
I watch you at the table.
I watch your tiny hands
(Stronger than they seem)
Rip off chunks of plain bread to eat-
Your naked energy is in everything you do.
Eating breakfast becomes a visceral event,
Bread pieces ripped off like a Viking rips apart meat.
You push chunks of plain bread in to your mouth and chew
With such an abandoned enjoyment that sometimes
I feel that I have lost in my daily life.
I am in awe of your raw emotions
That wash over your tiny body from the time you wake up
And eat your breakfast in to the time of play
All the way until your small head hits
Your soft pillow at bed time.
I love my awe I love my you I love you.