The Poetry Daily is going to go on the road again this weekend. At some point I will post the daily poem over the weekend, but it will be between workshops when I can hop onto Wes’ and Tuesday’s wifi in their kitchen. My husband, Tony Cuckson, and I are doing a two-hander creative writing workshop over the weekend. It’s part of a weekend of creative writing workshops at a Willowbrook Glamping site in Roscommon. So, close to the earth, as well as writing. The sun is blistering bright this morning. Temperatures are going over 25C. Which may not sound hot. But it is for Ireland! Which will probably mean we will be writing outdoors. I shall be the one swathed in shawls, floppy brimmed hat worthy of Scarlet O’Hara, the one who has sun screen and insect repellent in her workshop bag (along with the talking stick, pens, notebooks, etc.) Being a congenitally pale person I prefer shade and cooler temperatures. Living in Ireland, where I can go whole years without fishing out my sunglasses, I generally am only uncomfortable for a week or so, rather than months on end.
Poetry practice comes before packing up the car.
Wouldn't that be a free world?
If we did not get whiplashed
by others' assumptions
about who you are and
what you are?
That you wouldn't get defined by
the kinds of things you eat
for breakfast, for instance,
or the flat pack that lies
ready to assemble
beside your kitchen table,
what it says about you
(your budget, skill level, taste, or lack thereof )
the narrowness of your choices.
But if others' assumptions
could be the devils freefalling
off your back
that would, indeed, become one
way of being free.
Copyright © 2019 Bee Smith. All rights reserved.
Featured image Photo by Adi Goldstein on Unsplash