"I'm not doing much of anything myself..."

"I'm not doing much of anything myself..."

A Poem by Chris
"

Thursday kinda day

"

"I'm not doing much of anything myself..."

 

Today -

making coffee by-the-cup

a breath-at-a-time.

Shuffling - thoughts, steps -

movements, moments

weavelessly accepting standing, sitting

-up and moving ...about

every anything -

pointedly pointless

pointlessly pointed

poignant

...and ponderous...

looking for ...and not.  

 

Quiet thoughts, lil nothings actually -

mused meanderings.

I am.  I AM ...I am -

all the silence inside

watching the world pass,

passing the world watching.

There's snow, 

over 'n underfoot,

roads being scraped...

cars with places to be - passing

pacing ...my breath to

the silence inside.

 

The silence - talking about 

the

silence

- to an empty chair

from an empty ...

 

There is a difference tween

quiet and silent -

hum, background creaks and groans

rustlings, breath of wind, drafts' stirrings

the pen tip's scrawl across

...my mind.

 

Chris

 

© 2014 Chris


Author's Note

Chris
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Featured Review

In softest motion
tangible ebb and flow
woven
real...
real...
so real

All the moments
captured
released
upon a breath
then another
and another
in meaningful depth

She can see
the pen moving
internally
binding
external
ribbons
to the now
and what has been
gathered
refreshed...somehow

In softest motion
moments
add
subtract

Real..
so very real

xx




Posted 10 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.




Reviews

Great read Chris, even in so-called quiet moments. We are always doing or thinking.

Posted 5 Years Ago


Are we ever truly quiet throughout? If the mind is a home, the eyes windows to the outside world, then who resides within? You? Or something else? Ever so prevalent is the haunting feeling of the "other". Compelling piece. Thank you for sharing.

Posted 5 Years Ago


hm, reading Thursday on Sunday... time travel... I've been wandering through my own thoughts in this way for a couple months, for me an example of "be careful what you ponder about." What I thought I was planning to do for the next two years... after focused thought... doesn't turn out to be that, but something different, something I'm now looking for the "first step starting point"...now I can't go back, rats. Staying centered, folding in the silence, keeping the compass in hand, I think I'll find it, I just need to be patient, something I still haven't learned. That's what your write today has sparked in me Chris, thanks. BTW it better not be instant coffee. lol

Posted 5 Years Ago


Chris

5 Years Ago

Keurig... though is a Ninja now.
Sometimes I'm not alone so much as keeping company with myself.


Thanks

Posted 10 Years Ago


Chris

10 Years Ago

THAT is sometimes a hard thing to get people to understand...
Yes, there is silence, and there is quiet. Quite the difference. My house right now is full of children's laughter, but Quiet, nonetheless ...

Posted 10 Years Ago


Chris

10 Years Ago

...that is a "good" kind of "quiet".
What daffodils were to Wordsworth, coffee is to this poet, that is a symbol, an inspirational touch stone representing what he has to say. Here, coffee making sets off thoughts about the busyness of the world. Ceaseless movement, alliteratively described, points to its absurdity, but also, unexpectedly to its poignancy as the movement is towards some goal, possibly, usually, unrealised. In contrast to the noise and bustle, there is an inward silence that is watchful of the external world. But this does not represent some fixed untroubled identity. It daren't even answer its own question: Is it too an empty...chair? For to do so may well nullify its very existence. And yet, as snow has different shades of grey, silence can be differentiated - there is quiet and there is silence. We can either listen or we can hear. In a wonderful analogy to the creative process itself, the poet finds his voice, or relocates it as the poem ends with the uniqueness of his consciousness.

Posted 10 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

Chris

10 Years Ago

Ooooooooooooooooooooooooo k... as I non-chalantly just edge the coffee cup bit-by-bit out of view of.. read more
John

10 Years Ago

Fine thanks...Great poem
Chris

10 Years Ago

hehehehehe.. that's me - Joe Shmoe...

Coffee is a life's blood that holds a poet to th.. read more
Sounds like those days of being shut in because the weather keeps us inside, and we have no choice--but to be inside--cut off from the world.
A restless time with stirrings of want, or longing for freedom because it is not there.
Not being able to relax enough to concentrate on other things that we could be doing instead of pondering our situation.
I know this feeling that you are conveying through your writing here.

Posted 10 Years Ago


Josie E. Cook M. A.

10 Years Ago

With me, too!
I had a cup--an hour ago.
Just to wake up.
Chris

10 Years Ago

I keep a cup near... to give my fingers substance to grasp
Josie E. Cook M. A.

10 Years Ago

I love the warmth that seeps into my skin as I grasp it so near to my face like a caress.
There is always "A" moment inside your moments, each and everytime, you pause , we pause, waiting waiting watching for what? exactly, we see you there with your singluar cup, people stop by and clutter up the sink, they come and they go, all with a message for the day, for the constant hot pot, the warmth of your heart and hearth.

Posted 10 Years Ago


as you make your coffee
by the cup
i proffer up
many hundreds

morning rush
the people gush
to alleviate their boredom

day by day
the game is played
the illusion takes effect

what is this life
that i have made
inroads i see yet

walking at a steady pace
falling off the path
scrambling back up once again
... so many questions yet to ask

Posted 10 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

Chris

10 Years Ago

I like the sense of the words flow and how it speaks WITH but not To - me. And ALWAYS so many sight.. read more
KWP

10 Years Ago

i shall find myself a comfy sofa then ... and a few cushions too :) xx
Eyes ache...
... as the soul listens
to all the silences
hearing more than words speak....

Posted 10 Years Ago



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14 Reviews
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Added on January 30, 2014
Last Updated on January 30, 2014
Tags: CHris, Writing, Poetry

Author

Chris
Chris

Lansing, MI



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