I think this is my favorite poem so far, in the Poetic Asides challenge. I wrote it while circling the track at the gym this morning. Every lap, I had a new line. Thank goodness I remembered to bring my little notepad and a pen with me. I must admit though, I got a few strange looks every time I whipped out my notebook and jotted something down. I’m not quite sure what people thought I was taking notes on…
The prompt was to write a self-portrait poem.
In a Mirror
I am a (credit) card carrying,
tennis shoe wearing, soccer mom
who answers to
“Mom, where’s my jacket?”
and “Mom, I need the cars keys”,
but especially to “I love you, Mom”.
I have an inner voice
who whispers sweet nothings
into my ear,
when I need it the most.
In my dreams, I see myself
running barefoot on the beach
wind in my hair
spray of surf on my face.
I am seventeen.
I am a poet, a dreamer,
a worshiper of words,
a wife, mother, sister, aunt,
all wrapped up into one,
my father’s daughter,
my mother’s baby girl.
I speak not only when spoken to
but whenever I have something to say,
that just won’t wait.
I even sometimes know
when to stop talking.
I never deliberately step on an ant,
and avoid sidewalk cracks
at all costs. I embrace the ordinary,
as well as the extraordinary, expect little
and am often pleasantly surprised.
I do not stay home and bake cookies
with my kids, but secretly want to.
I read when I’m not writing,
write when I’m not reading
and rarely live in the moment
though the moment lives in me.
tennis shoe wearing, soccer mom
who answers to
“Mom, where’s my jacket?”
and “Mom, I need the cars keys”,
but especially to “I love you, Mom”.
I have an inner voice
who whispers sweet nothings
into my ear,
when I need it the most.
In my dreams, I see myself
running barefoot on the beach
wind in my hair
spray of surf on my face.
I am seventeen.
a worshiper of words,
a wife, mother, sister, aunt,
all wrapped up into one,
my father’s daughter,
my mother’s baby girl.
I speak not only when spoken to
but whenever I have something to say,
that just won’t wait.
I even sometimes know
when to stop talking.
and avoid sidewalk cracks
at all costs. I embrace the ordinary,
as well as the extraordinary, expect little
and am often pleasantly surprised.
I do not stay home and bake cookies
with my kids, but secretly want to.
write when I’m not reading
and rarely live in the moment
though the moment lives in me.