Poetry– Routine

I have set myself a challenge for 2016. I intend to write a poem a day. No, really. It is a serious challenge that I will probably fail in a couple of days. Perhaps I will fail because I’m writing something else. But probably not. By february I think I will have downgraded to a poem a week. Either way, they will probably be bad poems, because I normally need to let poems stew for a while to have any hope at all, and I obviously won’t get the chance with what I am attempting here.

Comments always appreciated.

Anyway, here is today’s poem. Because I can.



A cup of tea
at work.

The old mug
from Vienna.
One sugar.
Let is steep.

Sit and breathe. Eyes closed.

Aroma filling the office,
filling your head,
with memories of the scarred
timber table under the orange tree
where you sat and
sipped tea all those years ago

and said yes,
or no,
or I love you.

Taking that moment
in a day that doesn’t
belong to you,
and making it your own.

A long bath,
cumulo of bubbles,
lifting you
from the cold hands
of the week,
releasing you,
wings fluttering against the sharp sky,
into the weekend.

Little things
that wrest
the march of your life
out of Time’s hands
and make the world your own.

If only
for that


3 thoughts on “Poetry– Routine

  1. I’ve just scrolled all the way back to here from March – and interesting you thought you might not have made it past February.
    I reckon you’ll make it 🙂

    • I feel a bit like an explorer. Every extra step I take makes the thought of failure even worse. I’ll probably die at about day 245 because I wasn’t willing to give up. “I can make it across Antarctica, I know I can.” 🙂

      Thanks for the comment Claire– a homing pigeon from civilisation. (or have I taken the metaphor too far now?)

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