There could be no better way to kickstart my writing practice than to dive into Liz Lameroux's More Poem It Out course. Here is my first offering, in which I attempt to capture my passion for the beginning of a new day, a time that is mine alone.
ritual
knistering flames stretch eagerly into the still frigid air
where each breath is framed for an instant
as the radiators rattle to life.
tendrils of luminescence, the spices of sunrise unfurl,
their gutsy scent an invitation.
i sit at the worn oak of my desk, my north,
with each indentation, scratch and stain
a crooked, rooted truth.
distracted for a moment by a feline engine,
i allow satin bristles to gather between my fingers
and a sandpaper tongue rasps reply.
i cradle a scolding mouthful of smoked, golden elixir
and wait as it breathes vigour into a shattered self,
depleted by standing firmly in this life.
left from the morning before, a pen of silver lining,
a chalice able to turn frantic scribbly thoughts
into strong, inked lines and curves,
rests, signposting the potential of an unmarked sheet.
it is time.
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