"No matter how terrified you may be, own your fear and take that leap anyway because whether you land on your feet or on your butt, the journey is well worth it."
-- Laurie Laliberte
"If your dreams do not scare you, they are not big enough."
-- Ellen Johnson Sirleaf
"Life shrinks or expands in proportion to one's courage."
-- Anais Nin

Saturday, April 30, 2011

A Sendoff to National Poetry Month

Earlier this month I shared with you some very intimate poems that I love and have loved for years. I don't consider my own poetry very good. You see, my poetry is simply a by-product of my passion for writing. I use it as a way to get words on paper and begin my writing process. I had an instructor in college (different one this time) who told me one of the best cures he knew for writer's block was to just write anything, freewrite. I took that advice to heart and it's helped me through more blocks than I can count. Most of the time I write unintelligible trash; other times I end up with a poem. Rarely, I find one of those poems has some merit and is worth developing further. I offer two of those poems to close the celebration.

My Kitchen Window
by Laurie Laliberte

   If I stand right here
   I can see out my kitchen window.
   Through the dining room,
   Beyond the butler's pantry
   I look out my kitchen window.
   I see just the branches
   Of that old oak out back
   Full of leaves
   Turned bright green
   By the summer sun.
   The leaves turn.
   They change color
   First yellow,
   Now orange,
   Now red,
   Now brown.
   The air gains a chill.
   One lonely brown leaf
   Hangs
   From a grey branch.
   The branches quake
   In the nor'easter's wind.
   Snow changes to rain,
   Rain to sun,
   And that old oak
   Explodes
   With yellow green buds.
   A robin sings
   Hidden
   By the leaves
   Turned bright green
   By the summer sun.


Altar
by Laurie Laliberte

   My father's chair
   Sits empty
   Its surface worn with thirty years of use
   Headphones hung with care
   After a life lost
   Ella, Nat, and Billie mourn him
   As I have for many frenzied years
   My eyes meet his
   Every time I pass a mirror

Much love to all my readers.

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