A Poem A Day 30

Parting Pantoum

I wanted to beat writer’s block

With a poem a day, for a month

Friends encouraged me, much to my shock

And I wrote every day without stint.

With a poem a day, for a month

Such a public vow, I dared not stop

And I wrote every day without stint

The muse being present or not.

Such a public vow, I dared not stop

But the strangest thing started to happen

The muse being present or not

I still found the joy of creation.

And the strangest thing started to happen

My muted voice started to soar

Rediscovering the joy of creation

With each poem, I found so much more.

As my muted voice started to soar

I was met with encouragement, daily

With each poem I met so much more

As community reached out to bless me.

I was met with encouragement, daily

And friends added their voices to mine

As community reached out to bless me

It was greater than I, was divine.

When friends added their voices to mine

I was able to break writer’s block

It was greater than I, was divine

Your encouragement, much to my shock.


 Kerry Miller


Here endeth my "Poem A Day" challenge.  Not quite 30 consecutive days, but 30 poems nonetheless. I have surprised myself, written things quite different to anything I've written before, and found inspiration when I thought I had none - and I really have to thank all of you who wrote with me, encouraged me, and cheered me on.  Thank you.  

Here's to continuing the creative thread!  

A Poem A Day 29

                    What They Said

When we said some words, in front of a minister, before God.

          They said our vows were holy, unbreakable.

                    I signed with my life.

When he exploded because I moved furniture in our newlywed apartment.

          They said things would get better.

                    I waited, on eggshells.

When he blamed me for something he had lost and yelled, and yelled, and yelled

           They said I should not have yelled back.

                    I took responsibility for the escalation.

When he soiled everything, did nothing, and my frustration boiled over

           They said I should respect him.

                    I could not, and felt a failure.

When the yelling and fighting and demanding became too much and I ran away

          They said our bond was sacred.

                    I went back to him.

When I did not want sex, and he pressured and bullied me

          They told me I needed to love him.

                    I drank numbness to satisfy him.

When his abuse became intolerable, and I left the house to escape

          They said our relationship needed help.

                    I kept going through the motions.

When, exhausted, with a newborn, I said no to sex and he railed all night, relentless

          They did not say anything

                    And I was too tired to even think of a response.

When I rang the police, to ask if they could stop the yelling

          They said if he was not hitting me, they could do little.

                    I swallowed my pain.

When I ran to my family after yet another argument

          They questioned my communication skills.

                    I continued struggling.

When I broke down in Church, begging God for help or relief

          They said I needed to believe more.

                    I prayed harder.

When he worked through our family holiday and we were without him

          We breathed freely, walked on solid earth

                    I found clarity.

When I finally walked away

          They questioned my motives.

                    I believed myself.

                    Kerry Miller

A Poem A Day 28

Ekphrasis

In the shopping centre carpark,

trolleys crash

like

breakers. Echoing

traffic mimics distant surf.  My

smartphone becomes

maritime,

washing up sculpture in

MMS.  Curves in weathered wood

sound like a whaleboat,

drifting;

crazed and craggy,

yet timeworn smooth, the deck invites

touch, while above,

an

aimless harpoon

gun still shines with menace, a resonance

of fear; a sculpted

poem

singing beauty and dissonance.

Kerry Miller

One of the most wonderful things about this poetry challenge, has been hearing from friends who have been also inspired to create as a result of the poems. This poem was written in response to a beautiful sculpture by my friend Andre Nortje, representing a derelict whaling boat. He sent me photos in a text message, telling me he had been inspired to begin sculpting again by the poetry challenge, and that this sculpture, in particular, seemed to him like a visual poem.  I have to agree.   

A Poem A Day 27

Day Surgery


Gowned, tagged, prepped,
Transmuted from person to
patient; a body to be overhauled. 
About to be etherised upon a table 
(I think of T.S. Eliot). In this 
peculiar instance; my flesh and 
being oddly distinct.  I maintain 
myself, write poetry in the ward, 
hold dignity under this white
shroud.  My body the domain
of professionals and procedures
until they return it to me again.



Kerry Miller

A Poem A Day 26

Waiting

in queues.

for appointments.

for traffic to clear.

for the right moment.

for a good opportunity.

for enough time.

for enough money.
for things to improve.

for “the one”

to find purpose.

to find now.

Kerry Miller 

A Poem A Day 25

Bad News Week

The world is a firefight

in a gas station.

A gun in the hands

of a toddler.

Destruction reigns, and

words, poison as Flint

water, irrigate tensions.

Fears flourish like nepotism,

and executive orders.

Division's floodgates burst,

eroding canyons

between “us” and “them”.

As blinding rhetoric stings

the masses into conflagration,

humanity weeps.

There is only us.

Kerry Miller