My world slumbers in the inky darkness of the predawn sky.
I sit in my pj’s, notebook open, steaming mug of coffee at my side,
waiting…waiting for the words to come during this treasured, magical time.
One poem penned-it’s crap. I know it.
Yet I don’t give up.
The words-what words exactly, I’m not sure-
but some words are struggling to free themselves and be birthed.
A new thought, a new image, a new creation,
something which didn’t exist before.
The struggle is real, but the effort is worth it.
The words begin to make their way onto the page-
written, created, taking shape.
My world awakens in the blue, purple, pinkish-orange of the sunrise sky.
I sit in my pj’s, notebook closed, empty mug at my side.
The words arrived. I welcome them and go on about my day.
2019 Tracy Vogelgesang
“Birthing” is definitely an accurate word to use to describe writing some days. I really enjoyed reading! Thanks for sharing!
Thank you, Jennie!
Lovely cycled poem, Tracy — notebook open, notebook closed. Nothing like curling up in your jammies to write.
Thank you, Christie!
Very nice, Tracy. You capture the struggle and the the relief of writing when one knows one has something to express, but doesn’t yet know the path. I can perfectly picture your early morning.
Thank you, Daven.