I woke up this morning wanting
to write a poem,
but nothing came.
Just the restless on and off tap
of thoughts.
I searched for something telling
in the dregs of my coffee,
but carelessly drained the last of its grit.
I watched Sun get higher, striding into day.
She wrapped herself in deepest rose, draped in a shawl of amber.
I put on faded jeans and a billowy blouse to greet her.
Still no bright ideas.
I did last night\u2019s dishes
and thanked them for the meal.
Breaking bread with those seated,
drifts of conversation dearly departed,
Just hearsay in an empty chair.
Should I sign up for a poetry prompt?
Find Insight in my inbox?
Could I beg, steal, or borrow?
I searched along the shore
just like Anne Morrow Lindbergh.
Shells, salty lips, a solitary walk,
a rusty spigot to wash it all off.
I sat down at the table,
and spread out the tome.
There, I found Inspiration
defined as both insight and inhalation.
So I filled my lungs and picked up my pen
and found it filled with jet-black ordinary.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I woke up this morning wantingto write a poem,but nothing came.Just the restless on and off tapof thoughts.I searched for something tellingin the dregs of my coffee,but carelessly drained the last of its grit.I watched Sun get higher, striding into day.She wrapped herself in deepest rose, draped in a shawl of amber.I put on faded … Read More<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"nf_dc_page":"","om_disable_all_campaigns":false,"_monsterinsights_skip_tracking":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_active":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_note":"","_monsterinsights_sitenote_category":0,"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":true,"jetpack_social_options":{"image_generator_settings":{"template":"highway","default_image_id":0,"font":"","enabled":false},"version":2}},"categories":[4],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-2108","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-poetry"],"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/pa867U-y0","_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/underwoodpress.com\/ruescribe\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2108","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/underwoodpress.com\/ruescribe\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/underwoodpress.com\/ruescribe\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/underwoodpress.com\/ruescribe\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/underwoodpress.com\/ruescribe\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=2108"}],"version-history":[{"count":4,"href":"https:\/\/underwoodpress.com\/ruescribe\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2108\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":2113,"href":"https:\/\/underwoodpress.com\/ruescribe\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2108\/revisions\/2113"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/underwoodpress.com\/ruescribe\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=2108"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/underwoodpress.com\/ruescribe\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=2108"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/underwoodpress.com\/ruescribe\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=2108"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
Ellen Rowland writes poetry and creative non-fiction and is the author of Everything I Thought I Knew, a collection of essays about living, learning, and parenting outside the status quo. She and her family live off the grid on a tiny island in Greece.<\/em><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"