A Pause

At the beginning of December, I stopped writing poems. I did so to step back from a layer of ego and deepen my spiritual practice.

So far this is working for me.

I started my poem-a-day practice 12 years ago. Since then I have published over 3800 poems on my blog, and published ten books of poetry. I found the practice served to increase my perception and focus my honesty. The almost daily poems provide a chronicle of my life journey and learnings through that time. And I love writing poetry!

During this period when I am not writing, I encourage you to use the search feature of my blog to find poems of interest, or explore the chain of related poems as curated by WordPress at the bottom of each poem. As always, I love to hear from you – I receive notification when you comment on my poems, and will respond. Or you can send me email at wmulhern@gmail.com

I wish you all a beautiful unfolding of your spiritual journey, and a growing love for the nature that accompanies us and the people that deepen us –

with love,
Wendy Mulhern

Shirking

Something like a phrase I don’t quite hear,
distorted by a phase shift, fog, or dream,
sidles up against my waiting thought –
could I be your  poem? but says no more

It’s gray, and has some drape or flounce of fabric,
holes that could be lace, or rags,
a shuffle and a flutter  –
if I’m still, maybe it will come closer

This could be the price of reading all day
yesterday, and even for some hours today
(though I did dredge up some discipline
to do some chores)

Sunset came anyway,
colors mirroring the fire,
even its shapes echoing the logs,
while fog crept up beneath it …
granting grace in giving me the sight
before it swiftly rolled off into night.

©Wendy Mulhern
November 23, 2022

The poem anyway

I had decided
it was too dark outside
and too hot inside
to put the date on the page,
to wait, to try to find a poem
while the deepening sky
kept showing more colors
long after the sun had set
and the crickets  – well,
they sang as if
I hadn’t already written about them,
and the thrush in the distance
stopped after a while,
but the cricket cadences
with their polyrhythms
kept the song going
and the evening breeze came
in time for us to sleep.

©Wendy Mulhern
July 26, 2021

Take Two

I tried to write a poem
before my exertion  –
put down some rhythmic platitudes  –
not untrue, except in how they felt

But now I’m here
under the house
learning the lessons of humility
amid the insulation dust,
wielding my knife and my learning curve  –
not much to say about it

Last night we watched virga at sunset,
talked until it turned from dark pink
to dark gray,
watched the almost full moon get brighter,
said good night
far later than we planned to.

©Wendy Mulhern
June 23, 2021

An Anniversary

Ten years ago today I started my poetry blog. It was my intention to publish a poem a day. In practice,  I have averaged about 24 or 25 poems a month. My blog now contains over 3000 poems, and I plan to publish my 10th book of poetry in March.

People have asked me, a few times, how I can manage to find something new to write about each day. The answer is that each day is new. It’s not up to me to come up with new things  – the day does that. It’s just up to me to listen and  notice. And I’m not a static being existing separate from the day. The day includes me, and everything I think and observe. If I’m humble and willing, I will find myself in the great joy of being in service to the present opportunities for unfoldment and delight. This may be my current definition of a poet’s life.

I have great gratitude to everyone who reads my poems. Your reading completes the circuit and brings the poems to life. Thank you very much for your participation, throughout these years, in this endeavor.

With love,
Wendy

Poem a Day

On the one hand
is the audacity of thinking
I could have something to say
almost every day

But on the other hand
is the humility
of knowing everything I share
is the fruit of listening

And the listening is not even mine –
it is given in the delight of being,
by the intricate, intimate harmony
underlying everything,
declaring itself
and causing itself to be heard.

©Wendy Mulhern
June 28, 2020

Paradoxically

I couldn’t find a poem tonight –
couldn’t find it in the last glow
of daisies against the twilight,
or in the last spark of the fireplace coals,
couldn’t find it despite all the magical manifestations
of light – trees bathed in sunlight, dark clouds behind,
sun shining through rain, how clouds
nestled in distant valleys
held light longer than the hills

I couldn’t find it, maybe because
I was looking for something important,
forgetting that everything is.

©Wendy Mulhern
June 7, 2020

Always an option

Today I thought about how
silence could be an option
in the early fading away
of light from the windows,
in the random lamplit reading
of books most often looked at but untouched
upon my shelves — basketry, house design,
Anglo-Welsh poetry, mushrooms —

I could stay silent
for this, another night like any,
not try to add any insights to the world
(as if that were what I do anyway)

I could have stayed silent,
but then there was this.

©Wendy Mulhern
January 10, 2020

Respite

In the wilting heat
the songs that come to me
are ones I’ve sung before
or heard so often forty years ago
that all the notes are etched deep in my mind

The same with words, with poems,
as lines I’ve read and loved come back to me,
along with ones I’ve written,
and the only way to find new words
is to seek shade, and the space it brings,
for leaves, and lines,
to hold themselves full.

©Wendy Mulhern
August 5, 2019