Image courtesy of http://www.napowrimo.net/
(Notes to Self)
Calm, cool, and collected, Poetry knocks at your door. I know you want to let him in. You should–no argument from me. But firstly, there are some things you might want to consider before cracking the door open and gazing into those dreamy eyes.
- That fireplace you neglected all winter? Use it. Light candles, incense, something. If you don’t know each other that well (yet), you’ll want him to feel at home.
- Put on music: something like rain. No words—you’ll have to find your own.
- Don’t douse on the perfume. Poetry likes natural scents. You’ll be sitting close, too. One can hope.
- Have coffee and tea at the ready. Hot chocolate, if you’re the adventurous type. (You know what they say about hot cocoa.) Anyway, Poetry takes risks. Will you?
- Heck, open a bottle of Chardonnay. Who else are you keeping it for? Never mind that it’s 9am.
- Keep your wits about you and drink from a thimble—or better, from Poetry’s cupped hand.
- Place the fuzzy blanket within reach for cuddle time. You never know. You might get lucky.
- Gather a stack of poetry books by the couch—for inspiration when luck is scarce and you run out of subjects to talk about.
- Look at paintings together. Or grass. Or the clouds.
- Do a scavenger hunt. Forget what you hid and where. Let Poetry find it.
- Let him tell you all he knows. Listen and dream. Ask questions. Be genuinely interested, or it won’t work.
- Play ping-pong with adverbs and adjectives. Lose most of them in the weeds. Poetry won’t mind.
- Have him help you clear your attic. Poetry likes things everyone else discards. Not to mention you can admire the view as he goes up and down the ladder.
- Still stuck? Take your dog for a walk. Poetry can hold the leash. Walk near water or among trees. Follow the dog.
- Get lost in a book or downtown. Get mugged. Let Poetry flex his muscles to save you.
- Work out together. Have I mentioned those muscles? They take practice. Show him yours.
- When all else fails, feed him. Invent a new recipe. Poetry is into surprises.
- If all goes well, come evening, you’ll be making poems.