This is the last poem for this year. I am continuing to write a poem a day, but instead of posting them here, I’m sending them off to one of my best friends, author Bruce Balan, who is sailing around the world. To read all the poems for the month of April, scroll down to the bottom and begin reading them bottom up. I know, I know…next year I’ll set it up more conveniently…sorry!
So. Before I share the last poem, I have a beautiful story to tell you.
On April 20th, I posted a poem called BIRTHDAY. I started by reading William Stafford’s beautiful poem, CLASS PLAY, tried to mimic the poem, and eventually the poem turned into something completely different.
I wanted to share CLASS PLAY with you but I couldn’t find it anywhere on the internet and I didn’t want to infringe on any copyright, so I emailed the William Stafford Archives and asked for permission to post the poem.
I got a lovely email back from his son-HIS SON!-poet and Lewis and Clark College professor Kim Stafford, who gave me permission to post the poem as long as I attributed it to William Stafford and gave the copyright information (for Greywolf Press).
Since then, Kim and I have traded books and I have just begun reading his beautiful memoir about his father called Early Morning-Remembering my Father, William Stafford
And do you know why it’s called Early Morning? Because William Stafford got up early every morning to write a poem. William Stafford wrote a poem EVERY MORNING OF HIS PROFESSIONAL LIFE.
Every morning. Not just every morning of National Poetry Month.
Heavens. I met Kim through this project. Out of the blue sky, Kim sent me his book about his father. His father wrote a poem a day all of his life. My own life might be changed forever.
All because of the Poem-A-Day Challenge!
Wow.
So here’s my final poem for the Poem-A-Day Challenge. It’s not about birthdays per se. But in my mind it’s about the birth of a new day inside my exploding brain. About the possibilities open to me. About stepping over a threshold and into a new life.
I won’t post my poems after this…but…
EVERY MORNING
by April Halprin Wayland
Every morning
I don’t make my bed.
I don’t wash the cream off my face.
I don’t even brush my teeth.
Every morning
I tie the soft belt
of my navy blue robe
around my waist,
turn on this loving computer,
tell it something.
A prayer, perhaps.
A morning prayer.
A prayer poem.
Why?
Because William told me
hard things first.
For me, the hard thing
is the joy, too.
For me,
the hard thing is this.
So
this
is what
I do.
poem and drawing © 2010 April Halprin Wayland. All rights reserved
Are you writing a poem a day, too? Even if you’re not, please leave a comment on TeachingAuthors.com (You can leave your comment after any of our posts … it doesn’t matter if I’m posting or one of the five other authors is. Just scroll down to the first place you can comment. I’d love to hear your thoughts~)