In the last few weeks my walking partner, dear hubby, has been finding it more and more painful to walk. Then the doctor told him, no more long walks until you’re better. So for now I am walking on my own.
When I took solitary walks in the past I experienced a wonderful loosening of words and ideas. And it’s happening again, if I’m alert to it.
To help with that, I carry a little notebook and pen to write down words, turns of phrase, and images that I don’t want to forget. Or I hold them in my head. That’s what I did for the poem below. When I got home I free-wrote like crazy to capture everything in prose. Later I worked some of my ideas into …
Just an ordinary walk
On this cold morning I am soft wax
feeling intimidated by impatient cars
swishing, swooshing
swirling beside me.
One turns right in front
of my WALK light, almost clips my toes.
Even in moments of still, distant traffic hums
a far off siren screams.
City birds above me chirp, warble
sing their own bustle, swoop down (peck, peck),
flutter away. They are nonchalant, daring,
savvy to the rhythm of feet and tires (hop, hop).
My nose tests wind gusts, smells
gasoline, diesel, vanilla, a passerby’s peppery
perfume, chocolate, cinnamon
(something good is baking at Safeway).
I am a long skinny shadow now walking down a golden street
past a lady in a taupe coat with her silky dog in red
and a grey couple smoking on a bench.
They pull their Lhasa Apso close so I can pass.
I can’t find the book drop at the library.
The security guard points me to it’s green-light lips
“You scan it.” He shows me which bar-code
and the slot sucks the book from my hand.
As I turn toward home, the sun stares
into my eyes, brash. I shade them
with hands balled into gloves, fingers
squeezing warmth from palms.
A kid with a black-and-white backpack strides by
black arms bare under short black sleeves
black jeans, white shoes—so cool
but how can he not feel so cold?
I climb stairs, twist key in the lock—
happy to be home.
It was just an ordinary walk
but forever engraved in this poem.
© 2016 by Violet Nesdoly (All rights reserved)
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This post is linked to Poetry Friday, hosted today by the queen of poetic forms, Tricia at her blog Miss Rumphius Effect.
Violet Nesdoly 
Just an ordinary walk produced so much, Violet. I like that you carry a notebook with you during your solitary walks. I always bring my iPhone to capture the images I see and words that float on by. I look forward to seeing what you offer for my fall gallery, Autumnventure.
*Carol *
*Carol Varsalona* *E*LA *C*onsultant Moderator of *#NYEDChat* *Wonder Lead Ambassador * 1430 Surrey Lane, Rockville Centre, NY 11570 (516) 317-8306 (C) Blog: beyondliteracylink.blogspot.com Twitter: @cvarsalona
* Wonderopolis *
On Fri, Oct 21, 2016 at 9:17 AM, Violet Nesdoly / poems wrote:
> Violet Nesdoly posted: ” In the last few weeks my walking partner, dear > hubby, has been finding it more and more painful to walk. Then the doctor > told him, no more long walks until you’re better. So for now I am walking > on my own. When I took solitary walks in the past I exper” >
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Why, thank you, Carol! And I haven’t forgotten your fall gallery. I have something in mind 😉
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Walking is actually a really important part of my self-care plan – no matter how busy life gets I always have to find time to get outside and walk. There’s just nothing that centres me quite like being outside, clearing my mind and taking in my surroundings. Your poem just reminds me again that there’s inspiration all around us, everyday!
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Thanks, Jane, I feel the same way. Walking is one of my habits—a non-negotiable that I miss for very few reasons (and we both know that “t’s raining” is rarely one of them).
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You’ve perfectly conveyed how your walk felt, in addition to the experience of it.
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Thanks so much, Liz! You caught the spirit of why I wrote this – Experience.
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I feel like I got to take that walk with you, Violet! Your imagery is powerful. I love your description of the book drop: “it’s green-light lips” – so clever. =)
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Thank you, Bridget! Wish you could have come on the actual walk with me… although then I may have been more inspired to chat with you than listen to my muse.
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Lots of sights and smells here. I, too, love solitary walks when they loosen words. I’m afraid I’ve abandoned my pad and pen in preference to my iPhone when walking. I send myself emails with all those bits and pieces. The problem with that system is that I don’t always come home and try to get them down in some form. So sometimes they just remain cyber bits floating around without a home.
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Thanks, Dori. I’d probably use a phone too if mine was smart! Actually I don’t think it matters if things don’t get used immediately. It’s the act of noticing, that counts, and amazingly those memories resurface to be used at the right time.
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Love all the sensory details and images in your poem. Thanks for taking us along on your walk!!
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Jama, thanks for coming. You were wonderful company 🙂
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Nothing ordinary about this walk…thanks to your wide open poet’s eyes.
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Aw, thanks, Tara. I’ve probably walked this route dozens of times, but each time presents its unique gifts. Am training myself to be poetically alert more often (at least when I’m sans other company).
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So many great details from your walk, Violet–reading it made me feel like I was by your side. I particularly like the contrast between the nonchalant birds that are savvy to the rhythm of feet and tires and your own feelings of intimidation!
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Thank you so much, Buffy! The juxtaposition you noted, it just happened, but then on rereading, I saw it too. (Does our subconscious play a part in helping us organize our words, do you think?)
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Love the engraving of your day. It’s very like a haibun.
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Oh Thank you, Brenda! I hadn’t thought of that (haibun).
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I almost recognise that shadow! It looks like my shadow has been tailing YOU!
I find walking (alone – or with a dog…) unsnarls all sorts of writing tangles. It’s like a fresh breath of words.
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Thanks Kat. “Unsnarls all sorts of writing tangles” – What a great way to say it!
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One of my favorite bits: “the sun stares
into my eyes, brash”
Maybe you can write about one of your rainy walks someday?
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Thanks Tabatha,
I’m sure I have written about walking in the rain. No shadows on that walk… more a need for windshield wipers (at least if you wear glasses and prefer to walk under a hood to under an umbrella).
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So much to love here: your soft wax feeling, the long shadows, looking for the bookdrop, the longing for your partner. Very evocative!
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Thank you, Kortney! I usually attribute that soft wax stage to children (more than myself). They are so impressionable–everything is new and wonderful or terrifying!
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I love it! Thank you for sharing it with us! Ruth, thereisnosuchthingasagodforsakentown.blogspot.com
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Thanks for coming by Ruth!
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Good for you for keeping up with your walking–and then sharing it through poetry.
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Thanks, Diane. Actually the daily walk is almost not negotiable. The poetry more iffy—unfortunately. 😉
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Oh, not just an ordinary walk….all your senses are alive, lady!
Wonderful capture of the morning.
I hope your hubby is better soon….but I love how you turn time alone into inspired writing.
Have a great week, Violet!
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Thanks so much, Linda!
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The lips on the high tech book drop got me! Kids must love it!
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Thanks Keri! This was new to me for sure. I guess signing books in is one more job people don’t have to do with these electronic slots. (At least people are still needed to write the books.)
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