Eating Poetry for Breakfast

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Daily rituals and habits have always fascinated me. You barely notice your own rituals and habits until you either don’t/can’t do them for some reason or if someone points them out to you.

What are your daily creative rituals? What kickstarts your day?

I am not a morning person. Partly because as an insomniac I often only manage to finally get to sleep in the early hours around dawn. Partly because waking to me is a form of cruelty because I always feel like I am being cheated from getting a proper rest.

“We all have morning rituals that give us the comfort of familiarity even if our days are unknowns.”
― Maria Alexandra Vettese, A Year of Mornings: 3191 Miles Apart

Mornings are one of the times of day when most of us enact certain rituals to kick start our day. We have a certain ritualistic schedule of mundane tasks that ready us for whatever the day may bring.
From waking up and having a mug of coffee – although sometimes I feel like an intravenous injection is needed – to having a shower, to choosing your outfit for the day and making yourself presentable and finally to eating breakfast.
The order you do these things in may be different and you may not be a morning breakfast type of person.

““When you wake up in the morning, Pooh”, said Piglet at last, “what’s the first thing you say to yourself?” “What’s for Breakfast?” said Pooh. “What do you say, Piglet?” “I say, I wonder what’s going to happen exciting today?” said Piglet. Pooh nodded thoughtfully. “It’s the same thing” he said.”
– Winnie The Pooh

But you do eat breakfast. It doesn’t matter whether you do it in the morning after waking up or later on in the day. That first meal, that first refueling of your body, is your wake up moment.

A few years ago I read “The Artist’s Way” by Julia Cameron. It resonated with me in so many ways. But one of the most important tools I learnt through that was the Morning Pages.

Morning Pages are three pages of longhand, stream of consciousness writing, done first thing in the morning.
*There is no wrong way to do Morning Pages*– they are not high art. They are not even “writing.” They are about anything and everything that crosses your mind– and they are for your eyes only. Morning Pages provoke, clarify, comfort, cajole, prioritize and synchronize the day at hand. Do not over-think Morning Pages: just put three pages of anything on the page…and then do three more pages tomorrow. ~ Julia Cameron

Until recently I was only doing the morning pages when I was stuck creatively and feeling uninspired. This wasn’t happening every day. I found I was journaling more at the end of my day rather than the start.
But recently this has started changing. My “morning pages” have changed. They have turned into “Morning Motivation” – little pep talks I write to myself to begin – but even more recently I have added another “morning” ritual to my day.

Just as my body needs a breakfast to break the fast of the night, I felt like my mind needed a creative breakfast to awaken my brain cells. For me, the initial morning pages and then followed by the motivation pages just weren’t cutting it. For some reason it wasn’t unlocking my creativity in my sluggish morning-insomniac-induced-hungover brain.

But things have been changing and all because I am now getting the right creative break-fast for my brain.

A poet’s work is to name the unnameable, to point at frauds, to take sides, start arguments, shape the world, and stop it going to sleep. ~ Salman Rushdie

I have started eating poetry for breakfast.

I am making it a habit to start the day with poetry. First, I write down a poem or two. (I always “write” my poetry. I need that cathartic, physical process of putting pen to paper.) Then I put aside those raw pieces of poetry and spend some time reading others’ poetry. Often this state of reading will have me putting pen to paper in some more poetry of my own. Before long, my brain’s creative side zings into wakefulness and suddenly I am not feeling so sluggish.

The courage of the poet is to keep ajar the door that leads into madness. ― Christopher Morley

For me poetry is the purest form of art. Poetry is the one that truly moves me to feel those down-deep emotions we all feel: the emotions that don’t have a name. Poetry is also the most creative form of art for me. I love playing with images, words, moods, sounds, the surreal and emotions; poetry is the one space I get to do all this.

Poetry is like a bird, it ignores all frontiers. – Yevgeny Yevtushenko

So starting my day with a daily ritual of “eating” poetry for break-fast allows me to enter that creative space immediately. It is a key to that fearless place in me. I need to get into that fearless space each day because then I can face my prose without doubt and filled up with the fearlessness that is poetry for me.

What is your break-fast ritual to kick start your creativity?
Have you tried morning pages or your own version?
Do you refuel with any other art – mine is poetry, yours might be; music, dance, sketching, painting, pottery, sculpture – every morning?
What’s your “poetry” to break-the-creativity-fast
?

Down Twisting Rabbit Holes

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DoWn TwIsTiNg RaBbIt HoLeS

eVeRyThInG i CoUld NeVeR tELl YoU
iS lOsT dOwN tWiStInG rAbBiT hOLeS

YoU sMiLeD wItH LiPs Of BrUiSeD wAtErMeLoN
YoUr WhIsPeReD wOrDs PiErCeD ThRoUgH tHe CaGe Of My HeArT

sHaTtErEd PiEcEs HeLd ToGeThEr
bY a SpIdErWeB oF fRaGiLe GoSsAmEr

tHe PiErCeD sKiN BLeEdS
sTiTcHeS CoMiNg LoOsE

i StAnD oN tHe EdGe
My LiPs SoFtLy taSte ThE sOuNd Of yOuR wOrDs

L O S T
O
V
E

© All Rights Reserved Kim Koning

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Prompts

#FWF Free Write Friday Valentine: Ponder This [Kellie Elmore]

#FWF Free Write Friday Image Prompt: everything i could never tell you [Kellie Elmore]

The Daily Post – Daily Prompt: It’s Friday, I’m in Love [The Daily Post]

Tango on the Lips

At first I was attracted to the shape and form of the letters in the word,

with curvy vowels anchored by strong consonants,
the word that came to mind was tango,
a beautiful woman held gracefully by the strong arms of her partner,

Before even reading the word, my lips were softly tasting the sound of the letters,

cool clean water with a subtle sweetness exploding on the end of my tongue,

I mouthed the letters out slowly in the first steps of the tango,

the man pulled the woman closer into his body.
her soft curves melted into his hard muscles,
as he pulled her in even tighter he started moving,
his body carrying her graceful form with him,

I whispered out the syllables into pairs and triplets,

the dancers slipped into an effortless and intimate elegance,
the dance was coming into its fullness,
the dancers had no eyes for anyone but each other
and only the beautiful sounds of the whispered word reached their ears,

e L e u T H e R o M a N i a

© All Rights Reserved Kim Koning.

Eleutheromania
(Origin: Eleutheria – Freedom, Greek)
noun; an intense and irresistible desire for freedom.

Inspired by
The Daily Post | Letters “I love the juxtaposition of scattered letters — a reminder that the elements within an alphabet are not only functional, but beautiful.”

*Featured Image: Tango Nuevo I by Pedro Alvarez*

The Pen

I saw words in the ink
I wrote until the spiderweb tore
I wrote until their bloody cage broke
I wrote until their blood flowed
I wrote until I set them free
I wrote until their story breathed

© All Rights Reserved Kim Koning.

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Finding time to Celebrate Poetry, All Month Long

Celebrate Poetry and Poets for a month?
NaPoWriMo 2014 begins now…time to dive in.

I am in the middle of chasing deadlines on the WIP but I could not pass up a chance to dive into a sea of poetry and let those rhythmic waves wash over me. So I will be taking part this month in NaPoWriMo although at this point I can only promise 1 – 2 poems a week.

You can follow all my Poetry here

Are you taking part in NaPoWriMo this year?

WordPress.com News

NaPoWriMo , or National Poetry Writing Month, is back!

NaPoWriMo is an annual project in which participants write a poem each day in April. It unfolds in the tradition of NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month, held in November) and motivates, inspires, and engages poets of all levels, genres, and backgrounds.

While a poem a day is your ultimate goal, there’s really no “right” way to participate. Start today and keep at it, and experiment as you see fit. Focus entirely on sonnets, or experiment with free verse. Participate on your own, or collaborate with others. Publish on your blog, or experiment offline.

Ideas to get started

  • Publish poems each day, focusing on a different genre each week.
  • Handwrite poems in a journal, for your eyes only.
  • Start a collective with others, plan themes for April, and publish poems on your own blogs focused on these themes.
  • Create a new blog or group site specifically for this monthly challenge.

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#CoffinHop|The Abandoned & The Disappeared…Dead Ends in #Poetry

Death’s Last Breath

Dust Devils dance a macabre dervish

Tumbleweed twists in torment

Image Courtesy of  Damien du Toit from Cape Town, South Africa
Image Courtesy of Damien du Toit from Cape Town, South Africa

Ghosts of the Disappeared stalk the streets of Death

Screams of silence fill the graveyard of the Abandoned

Images courtesy of weburbanist.com
Images courtesy of weburbanist.com

Gates creak open with unearthly screams

Come down to the Graveyard

Coffins spill their bone chilling secrets

Image courtesy of weburbanist.com
Image courtesy of weburbanist.com

All Hallow’s Eve draws near

The battle-worn stone sentries slumber

It lies waiting for the fire in the sky to die

The soft light seduces it’s midnight soul

Golden eyes filled with scorpions wait

It longs to drink the light, to swallow its darkness

Image courtesy of ghost2ghost.org
Image courtesy of ghost2ghost.org

Beware the lost Spirits

Slipping through the open spaces

Tread softly past their places of rest

Do not disturb the Abandoned and the Disappeared

Image courtesy of ghostvillage.com
Image courtesy of ghostvillage.com

The gargoyles screech their unbridled glee

The ravens cackle and call

The dragon forged in the fires of molten metal shatters

In its shroud of twisted metal a creature stirs

Deathly grey skin covered in bloody thorns

It lifts its heavy head and opens eye eons shut

Twin black crevices entrance me nearer

Image courtesy of travelcreepster.com
Image courtesy of travelcreepster.com

The twin crevices swallow my thoughts

This thing of death twists through my broken mind

Visions of desperate violence assail me

Strange unearthly places not yet forseen

This will be the place where my spirit flees

my place of death

Image courtesy of oddee.com
Image courtesy of oddee.com

Twisting its way through my thoughts

Its thorns tangle and tear at my deepest fears

The broken city shrinks into nothingness

The silence that drinks my dreams stalks me

ssshhh

a whisper, a  whimper

I stumble blinded into an empty classroom

Abandoned Classroom, Image courtesy of haikyo.org
Abandoned Classroom, Image courtesy of haikyo.org

The whimpering comes from the corner

I claw at my eyes desperate to see

The red mist lifts unveiling him

A boy, emaciated, shrunken yellow skin

He scratches at his gaping mouth, breath wheezing through in a whimper

The basket ball net twists tighter trapping his spirit

Suicide by basketball net (image courtesy of haikyo.org)
Suicide by basketball net (image courtesy of haikyo.org)

The witching hour draws near

The boy grasps desperately for me

His eyes pools of terror waiting to drown me

The anthracite sky parts, moonlight forms a ghostly finger

The rustling of pages makes me turn

A bible lies before me abandoned in the ashes

Image courtesy of haikyo.org
Image courtesy of haikyo.org

“In the beginning God created the heaven and the earth. And the earth was without form, and void; and darkness was upon the face of the deep.”

The creature twists dementedly in my mind

Its thorns tear through my skin in desperation

Image courtesy of bloody-disgusting.com
Image courtesy of bloody-disgusting.com

Molten fire flows through my being

The creature shrieks until my ears bleed

The pages before me rustle again, I look down

“He will swallow up death in victory;and the Lord GOD will wipe away tears from off all faces; and the rebuke of his people shall he take away from off all the earth: for the LORD hath spoken it.”

The liquid fire swirling in my being drowns the desperate creature

Its thorns tear an escape through my bleeding eyes

It leaves behind a trail of yellow mist and silence swallows its remaining screams

The veil of red mist lifts from my eyes, the room is filled with luminous moonlight

A small hand slips into my still bloody hand

The boy looks up at me, his eyes now flawless twin sapphires

He pulls me down, then whispers in my ear

“The battle is won

Death is destroyed

Lost spirits are free to rest”

He slips away with one last smile embraced in joy

My  head hits the ground before I know I have fallen

A crown of thorns lies next to me

The silence is broken by the sweet singing of Seraphim

I breathe my last breath

It is done.

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My spirits dances free of the caging skin and broken bone

I fly free on wings of eagles into the bright new dawn.

All Hallow’s Gate is closed.

© All Rights Reserved Kim Koning

Image courtesy of http://catracalivre.com.br
Image courtesy of http://catracalivre.com.br

x

The CoffinHop has come to a dead end. But from death comes life and I know that Coffinhop has been a treasure chest of tricks, treats and inspiration.

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It has been my honour to share the #CoffinHop with you my readers.

It has been my honour to spend the time prying open the lids of broken coffins of the other coffinhoppers.

A special shout out to Axel Howerton for being our Master Guardian of the #CoffinHop boneyard once more. You Rock Axel! 🙂

Please remember that The #CoffinHop Anthology, Death by Drive-In is now AVAILABLE and 100% of all proceeds go to Litworld in support of Child Literacy. Help a child read. Let that child enrich the world with their stories. Click on the anthology image below for purchase links.

CoffinHop13AnthologyPromo

The Prize winner for my “The Abandoned & the Disappeared” contest will be announced on 5th November, 2013.

There are so many amazing entries that it is going to be a close call to call the winner. Thanks you to everyone who entered. Your words awed me. Each and every one.

Thank you.

Remember…

Tread softly past their resting places…

Do not disturb the Abandoned & the Disappeared.

InsideHauntedHouseCoffinHop13

Come to the Dark Side | Grand Launch #Poetry #BlogHop Starts Midnight 21stJuly

Welcome to the Grand Launch of The Kintsugi Poets Society

KintsugiBloghopButton

BlogHop ~ 21st July – 28th July

Theme – The Darkness

Broken Words Whispered in The Dark

To celebrate the launch of this new society of Dark Poets,

we are kicking off with a BlogHop Tour of Poetry

Poetry in its darkest and most terribly beautiful forms

Find the whisperings of broken words and dark spaces below.

Kim Koning

Jack Varnell

Kavita Rao

Amy Marshall

Andrew Drage

Anita Stewart

Ash Krafton

Caroline Adele O’Brien

Ellie Rose McKee

Irina Dimitric-Stojic

************************

Follow the Website

Tweet us on Twitter

Like the Facebook Page

Join the BlogHop event on FB

Add The Kintsugi Poets to your G+ Circles

kintsugiwelcome
Enter here to let the dark words of The Kintsugi Poets seep into your soul….

Come over to The Dark Side | A New Society of Dark Poetry

The Time has arrived for A New Society of Poets…

A Society of Poets who master the dark art of Kintsugi…

Calling all lovers of Dark Poetry…

Enter if you dare…

The Kintsugi Poets Society

kintsugipoets2

The time has finally arrived.
I can finally unveil this new society of poets
that celebrate Dark Poetry in all its terrible beauty.
We are launching the Society with a
Grand Launch BlogHop of Dark Poetry – 21st July – 28th July.
Come over to The Dark Side…
Enter if you dare…

Follow the Website

Tweet us on Twitter

Like the Facebook Page

Join the BlogHop event on FB

Add The Kintsugi Poets Society to your G+ Circles

kintsugiwelcome

Calling all Poets with a Dark Side

Attention: Poets with a Dark Side

I am starting a website community of Poets with a dark side.

***

Turning dark cracks & broken fragments into golden seams of poetry ~ A Society of Poets who can turn the dark edges, the cracked pieces and the broken fragments of their experience into the golden seams of poetry.
The poets I am looking for write their poetry with a dark slant, twist. The poetry can be metaphysically/literally/figuratively/emotionally dark. It can be themed to a genre – ie paranormal/horror/suspense or it can be personal struggles/pain.
***
This will be a community of shared poetry and eventually I would like to publish some poetry anthologies of the poetry shared.
I am recruiting members here.
If you are interested, please let me know in the comments on this post.
Expansion by Paige Bradley
Expansion by Paige Bradley
Sign up here...
Sign up here…

The Divine Orchestra | #FWF

Click on the Typewriter to find out more...
Click on the Typewriter to find out more…

Free Write Friday | Prompt

It was a dark and stormy night…fwf-darkandstormynight

Steam rises from the barren ground
Liquid sand boils in an earthen cauldron
Molten fire swims in a deep river
The air above the toiling caldron stills
Not a bird calls nor do creatures stir,

The waxen earth beats to an ancient drummer’s heartbeat
Nature’s choir hums a song of still serenity
The winds breathe and tremble a Beethoven sonata,

Air that stirs with a thundering Bassoon
Clouds gather and clash with clanging cymbals
Curtains drape the air in folds of darkness
The stage is luminous in a ballet of ethereal light
Ushered in a staccato of falling liquid notes

*Reposted for #FWF*

Soul Wings

If writing words are the Bare Bones of me,

then Poeme` is the ephemeral Soul of me

Bones are formed from dust

flesh out the form of my shadow

Poeme` the intangible core of my being

the breath of life to my shadow

Without the breath divinely inspired

I am but a lost thing having no heart, no core, no soul

My soul is not anchored in my flesh

but soars within the cage of my earthly body

This too is the beautiful tragedy of  Poeme`

Flesh pulls the oxygen from the air

my core pulls divine inspiration into streaming flight

~ the uncaged bird is set free ~

I can no more cage this poeme`

to trap my soul in earthly realms hollows my flesh

Poeme` is life fleshed into my Bones

A place where the intangible is material

A window through which the tears of God

break open the unseen cracks in a heart

A Love divine and Light surreal

is my heart free, my soul uncaged

the Bird of Poeme` soaring into the heavenly realms.

© All Rights Reserved Kim Koning