Morning, early August

I am under the bed
pretending to be captured
by marauding pirates.
Windows wide open,
the walls expand,
the room is a lung of midsummer.
Carried in is the sound
of a snip and a trim–
my mother outside pruning the hedge.
She hums, then dah-dah-dahs
a song for which there are no lyrics.
I am under the bed
pretending to be a bear cub
awaiting my mother’s return.


My favorite part of this childhood memory is I don’t think my mom knew I could hear her singing. She isn’t one to sing in public. She is the main person I’m talking to when I’m creating a new post. It might make me sound like a mama’s boy, but it’s true.

I chose to write this as a poem to celebrate National Poetry Month. I think poetry gets a bad rap. I blame school curricula for teaching only the stuffy classics that are hard to relate to when you’re a teenager. And for teaching that there is only one way to interpret it and any other way means you ‘don’t get it.’ The truth is that poetry is just like fiction. There are voices that will stick with you and voices that you would rather skip.

Poetry is all around us: on the radio, in tv jingles and print ad campaigns. It’s all about using words creatively to make people feel differently after they’ve read your poem. That’s all. Shake some of that bad poetry mojo (if you have any) and celebrate Poetry Month:

Listen to other poems read by actors: Poetry Out Loud : Listen to Poetry.

Read the lyrics to your favorite song. Try not to hear the melody while you do 😉

Watch and listen to one of my favorite poets read his own work:


11 Replies to “Morning, early August”

    1. It’s true! Thank you for your comment and the follow, Linda. And on a side note, I’ve always wanted to see your country. I’ve been interested in Sweden since I was in elementary school!

      1. That is great to hear:) It is a wonderful place… I have had a similar interest but for France, which I have now been to a few times. There are a lot to see in this world!

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