The Bedside Poet

Poetry's job is to rip us open. To inspect our inner mechanisms and give the heart a boost of wonder or a channel for its grief.

It used to be a known practice to keep a "Commonplace Book," a collection of lines, quotes, writings, ideas we stumble across in the detritus of our daily lives that gleam strongly in the current. We have been collectors, but the fire hose of the internet has its strong chaos and algorithms these days. Now, those quiet gems are harder to excavate.

"In a field of light, we are intensifications of that light." - Mark Doty

I fell in love with poetry 20 years ago, and have never recanted.

I am a poet, philosopher, and seeker. I've written my PhD thesis on the significance of letters in literature; why current authors still use them as a device, when we don't habitually correspond on paper anymore.

Let's change that... let me write to you.

I'll be sending out a monthly letter, with poetry (my own, others'), philosophical ponderings, ideas to spark the mind, a theme or invitation for your own reflections... write back to me, or just enjoy receiving them. Let them be beacons in the wayward pull of our lives..

"Let the Day Pass" by Emma Sedlak

Emptiness is a human right. Tattoo the veins
onto your arms; learn how your blood runs without you.
Board a train and stare down the world.
Set your hair alight to know what things still burn.

For a while, let part of you die. Don't apologize.
Use your soul's coffin as a soapbox
if the cat ever gives your tongue back.
Your time will come, just wait.

Meanwhile, sleep dormant under sofas
or hide, or hibernate. When friends come,
scrawl Do Not Disturb on a worried face.

Let the day pass. Know most instruments are hollow
which is how and why they sing. Don't fill the void.
Lie awake with everything and anything.

\*\*
Looking forward to writing to you...

Love,
Emma