Talking Fingers

[Tinker]

Talking Fingers

My fingers tap out words,
conscious of my surroundings,
my senses are my starting point 
urging the images lead me. 

Sitting at my desk, 
feet cross-ankled, cushioned
in old, worn, blue slippers,
and resting on white Berber carpet,
warmth and comfort creep upward
to calves, knees and thighs.
There is a little pause at the ache
in my knees, acknowledging the arthritis
that has settled there. Wear well earned
from decades of dancing,
hundreds of miles of horseback riding
and hiking mountain trails among the redwoods.  
I've been privileged and am forever grateful. 
The persistent pain, a reminder, nothing is free
and I am happy to have paid the price.

Words open me 
to small details that spin off 
into a direction
I didn't plan, surprising myself
with the wonder of it. 
                   ~~Judi Van Gorder

Inspired by Ars Poetica  by Archibald MacLeish - 1892-1981

"A poem should not mean
but be."
 

[badger11]

4 hours ago, Tinker said:

Sitting at my desk, 
feet cross-ankled, cushioned
in old, worn, blue slippers,
and resting on white Berber carpet,
warmth and comfort creep upward
to calves, knees and thighs.
There is a little pause at the ache
in my knees. Wear well earned
from decades of dancing,
hundreds of miles of horseback riding
and hiking mountain trails among the redwoods.  
I've been privileged and am forever grateful. 



 

Particularly enjoyed those lines Judi.

[JoelJosol]

"Words open me 
to small details that spin off 
into a direction
I didn't plan, surprising myself
with the wonder of it."

The journey of writing a poem. I need more passion to travel this path as often.

[Terry A]

Truly, a settling into comfort, I seldom see in people anymore.