Story Grove

Planting the acorns of creativity + inspiration

2 Notes

as you walk on by
(original poem by Miri Stone, July 21st 2014)

while I sit at this cafe scribbling
my son is getting restless

I think
I’ll get to the end of this page
but -
        perhaps not.

now my son
        is getting vocal.

so that’s how I come to be -

nursing one-handed
my son crooked in my arm
my arm jammed
in between me and the table
precious real estate
for a precious time-out -

as you walk on by this everyday cafe

my son doesn’t seem to mind
he is too busy growing

but I do believe
I have caught your attention

my reflection
in the coffee shop window
defines something of a reversal 
on the traditional monument to all-consuming motherhood
as painted on every wall, canvas, stained-glass window
in history

unwittingly 
I have become 
an exotic specimen
in your neatly manicured day

as I sit here
words tearing across the page one-handed
all the while nursing casually
as if that were the aside
in this situation 

admittedly -
        it is an absurd aside
that would make my 11 year old self split into a fit of giggles 
and point behind whispering hand

I might even join in
if I were not currently 
scribe
slave
to this passion
flowing out of me and onto this page

so -
       is it admiration
romantic re-imaginings of some distant passed
or
       curiousity
of a sight not often seen
or
       disgust
that has your eyes 
stuck on me 
needing to be peeled away 
as I look up suddenly
to catch the inspiration 
floating by in the ether 
near my coffee table

yes -
        my latte is casually cooling
shocking I know
even more shocking if you knew
my everyday ritual
trekking out to my local cafe strip
peering 
all-knowingly in
to see which barista is worthy 
of my caffeinated prayer of -
       oh god that is good

but as you may see from the distant intent in my eyes
I have not a moment to lose
before the fickle ideas will flit away
to some other more receptive receptical 

so excuse me
for being practical (& reasonably demure)
in service of my craft
as this lightning strike drives my pen

I am in fact
writing down something
about motherhood

and as I said 
my son doesn’t seem to mind
he is too busy growing

as you walk on by
(original poem by Miri Stone, July 21st 2014)

while I sit at this cafe scribbling
my son is getting restless

I think
I’ll get to the end of this page
but -
perhaps not.

now my son
is getting vocal.

so that’s how I come to be -

nursing one-handed
my son crooked in my arm
my arm jammed
in between me and the table
precious real estate
for a precious time-out -

as you walk on by this everyday cafe

my son doesn’t seem to mind
he is too busy growing

but I do believe
I have caught your attention

my reflection
in the coffee shop window
defines something of a reversal
on the traditional monument to all-consuming motherhood
as painted on every wall, canvas, stained-glass window
in history

unwittingly
I have become
an exotic specimen
in your neatly manicured day

as I sit here
words tearing across the page one-handed
all the while nursing casually
as if that were the aside
in this situation

admittedly -
it is an absurd aside
that would make my 11 year old self split into a fit of giggles
and point behind whispering hand

I might even join in
if I were not currently
scribe
slave
to this passion
flowing out of me and onto this page

so -
is it admiration
romantic re-imaginings of some distant passed
or
curiousity
of a sight not often seen
or
disgust
that has your eyes
stuck on me
needing to be peeled away
as I look up suddenly
to catch the inspiration
floating by in the ether
near my coffee table

yes -
my latte is casually cooling
shocking I know
even more shocking if you knew
my everyday ritual
trekking out to my local cafe strip
peering
all-knowingly in
to see which barista is worthy
of my caffeinated prayer of -

oh god that is good

but as you may see from the distant intent in my eyes
I have not a moment to lose
before the fickle ideas will flit away
to some other more receptive receptical

so excuse me
for being practical (& reasonably demure)
in service of my craft
as this lightning strike drives my pen

I am in fact
writing down something
about motherhood

and as I said
my son doesn’t seem to mind
he is too busy growing

Filed in poem poetry motherhood nursing creativity muse amwriting wheninspirationstrikes

31 Notes

dust motes dancing in sunlight

(an original poem by Miri Stone, July 2014)

I have a fantasy -

A passionate woman
Throws lavish colours at a canvas

The canvas is stretched to breaking

Buried with her desire
To express
The hormones surging through her synapses

All the while

Her babe is sucking sucking sucking 
At her breast
Nursing in the crook of her arm

As one
Their passions spentThey collapse back into an ancient armchair

With a sigh
They watch
Through slitted eyelids

The dust motes
Flitter in the early morning sunlight

Like secrets shared
That will remain unspoken
Between mother and son 


~~~ 

Though the poem above is all mine, this isn’t my original photo (unfortunately!) but I just wrote the poem & this image captures the feeling so beautifully… Hope you enjoy!

It’s called “dust motes dancing in sunlight” by Hammershoi 1989, so I’ve named my poem after it.

Image source: http://ojopipa-style.blogspot.com/2010/12/dust-motes-dancing-in-sunlight.html?m=1

dust motes dancing in sunlight

(an original poem by Miri Stone, July 2014)

I have a fantasy -

A passionate woman
Throws lavish colours at a canvas

The canvas is stretched to breaking

Buried with her desire
To express
The hormones surging through her synapses

All the while

Her babe is sucking sucking sucking
At her breast
Nursing in the crook of her arm

As one
Their passions spent
They collapse back into an ancient armchair

With a sigh
They watch
Through slitted eyelids

The dust motes
Flitter in the early morning sunlight

Like secrets shared
That will remain unspoken
Between mother and son


~~~

Though the poem above is all mine, this isn’t my original photo (unfortunately!) but I just wrote the poem & this image captures the feeling so beautifully… Hope you enjoy!

It’s called “dust motes dancing in sunlight” by Hammershoi 1989, so I’ve named my poem after it.

Image source: http://ojopipa-style.blogspot.com/2010/12/dust-motes-dancing-in-sunlight.html?m=1

Filed in art poem poetry nursing motherhood creativity inspiration

1 Notes

lightmeupmovie:

Sometimes the fragile dreams have to be broken only to be re-imagined… #lightmeup a #film about #miscarriage #loss & #hope

#amdirecting this #seattle based #short

lightmeupmovie:

Sometimes the fragile dreams have to be broken only to be re-imagined… #lightmeup a #film about #miscarriage #loss & #hope

#amdirecting this #seattle based #short

262 Notes

hitrecord:

CALLING ALL VO ARTISTS, ACTORS, FILMMAKERS, ANIMATORS, VIDEO EDITORS & MUSICIANS!

Let’s start making Short Films out of all the great contributions to the "Recite a Poem Every Day" collab - contribute your performances, edits & audio!

==

ANIMATORS: Find a Poetry Reading that inspires you to animate a Short Film, LIKE THIS EXAMPLE.

FILMMAKERS: Make a Storyboard inspired by a Poem so that Actors can perform it - or shoot your own Short Film.

ACTORS: Perform a Poem from the site.

VIDEO EDITORS: Remix audio & visual elements from the site into a Short Film of a Poem you like. Check out THIS “SONNET 29” SHORT FILM as inspiration.

MUSICIANS: Compose a Score for a Poem you like.

VOICE OVER ARTISTS: Perform a reading of a Poem on the site that you like.

CURATORS: Make Albums of Poetry or Performances you think would be great resources for Short Films.

==

Contribute to the “RECITE A POEM EVERY DAY” collab HERE!

Get into it - a few days left peeps