Kitchen Table Poet

I have set a personal target of publishing two weekly posts, (on Mondays, and Thursdays) as well as a weekend post. But, yesterday, after a long day, instead of coming to the page with any interest, my mind was full of ‘shoulds’, so I didn’t. Instead, I procrastinated, snacked like a hamster on acid, went to bed late, and woke up grumpy.

This morning, it is raining, and I wonder if my targets are too ambitious. I work full-time, and like many, have a lot happening. So I decided to look up William Stafford quotes.

This Kansas poet woke up at dawn every day to write for two hours before his family woke, and his working day started, a habit that started from when he was a conscientious objector, (CO) in the 1940s when he lived with other conscientious objectors in work camps in Arkansas and California. In 1970, he composed around 20,000 poems, of which 4,000 were published in more than 50 books.

He was a prodigious and celebrated writer, and he carefully crafted his work; out of eight poems, one would make publication. However, it is his attitude towards writing that inspires me, beyond his poignant and heart-touching poetry. His art is typified by ease and commitment, without the ‘shoulds’. This is one of his quotes.

Keep a journal, and don’t assume that your work has to accomplish anything worthy: artists and peace-workers are in it for the long haul, and not to be judged by immediate results.

William Edgar Stafford (c)

Every War Has Two Losers: William Stafford on Peace and War

So I am posting, a day late, but I am posting, showing up on the page, and I am sharing this for all the artists who struggle to make time for their art, and then feel defeated. We are in it for the long haul, and we are human, let us forgive ourselves, and simply show up at the page. This is one of my poems from Sky Trees © to celebrate our travels.

Poem at my Kitchen Table

In the corners of the day before work starts 
and the mortgage interest is paid;
then later, after I come home 
to the margins of the room,
I think on a snatch of conversation 
magpie-stolen.
Brushstroke words to trace the diesel songs 
of pillar-red buses, blackbird leap 
between still day and shuttered night.
I am not an everyday poet, kitchen table poet I am.

Shereen Abdallah ©