Today, my friends, I am thrilled to bring you a guest article by Brian Miller, of Waystation One, recently returned from his time in Nepal. I woke up one morning thinking what a good idea this would be, and he kindly agreed, busy though he is. I know you are going to drink in each word as deeply as I did. For this magical trip, I wanted to get completely out of the way, so I asked Brian to just tell us what is in his mind and heart about his time there, what stands out for him, and what all of this did for his soul. Let us prepare ourselves. The sun is rising over the Himalayas, yak bells tinkle as the big beasts amble past, the ancients sitting on benches in the morning sun watch us with wry, twinkly, knowing eyes, cautioning us to calm our haste and centre our hearts for our very first visit to Nepal.
* * * * *
Brian Miller and buddy in Nepal
Waking up in a new place – the light is
different as it filters through the window drawing squares on the concrete.
Maybe it is softer. Maybe it is brighter. Maybe this is the illusion of the
hopes we have for where we find ourselves. And perhaps we just have not been
there long enough for the shadows to gain enough mass for you to notice.
Your Challenge is to create a poem from an entry in a journal, yours or someone else's. You might also want to reflect on the writer or on the journal. Or write a poem as if it is a journal entry.
an old knuckle baller, he still wears the
cap he wore in high school,
yellow&brown, embroidered LH, faded&nipped in time's toll---it
contrasts his grey temples, face full of whiskers, red rimmed eyes,
still wide, cheeks sagged, creased, work the salt off a peanut, teeth,
tongue shuck the shell & spit it in an ever increasing pile, like
bones at a chicken feast
one hand works the cover of a browned baseball, fingers flipping
around the leather&laces, through the repertoire of pitches he once
threw, the other works a pencil along a score card. he keeps
every hit, strike, ball, foul---every statistic of importance, a scratch,
scratch, scratch of lead, impression on paper, the game reflecting
in his cornea---spits another shell, works the ball, scratch, scratch
sisyphus
man on first, one out, pop, scratch, scratch, double play & it's
over, he folds the card in half, then quarters so it fits neat in
his back pocket, shuffles up the concrete steps between bleachers
to wherever he goes & whatever he does until tomorrow when
he'll be there, in his usual spot, spitting shells, hand running through
the memory of pitches & marking his card,
with one thing that makes sense
leaving me
to sit,
notebook in hand,
scratching away,
just the same
1. Post your diary story poem on your site, and then link it here.
2. Share only original and new work written for this challenge.
3. Leave a comment here.
4. Honor our community by visiting and commenting on others' poems.
(Next Week's Midweek Motif will be Half Year and World UFO DAY)
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Kids, just as I promised, we are featuring a very special poet today. Brian Miller, of Waystation One, who is also one of the admins at the popular dVerse Poets Pub, agreed to chat with us, and I am so stoked. Brian is low-key and never toots his own horn, but you cant travel around the poetry circuit without coming across his encouraging, positive and supportive messages everywhere. The man has a very big heart. I thought it would be nice for our members to get to know him a little better.
P.U.: Brian, I’m so thrilled to be interviewing you!! (What
a total scoop.)Would
you set the scene for us? I know you live on the East Coast, but what general
area, and do you live an urban or rural lifestyle?
Brian: smiles. you
would think by some of my writing that I live in the city. I do love the city,
but I live on a little over an acre at the base of a mountain just outside of
Lynchburg, VA---the other irony being that Lynchburg is quite conservative, and
I am not.