I write after the children and cats are asleep
and the news slows like a clock needing winding
in an age when most time is measured digitally,
and whispered to satellites so it is always right.

I need to wait for meter, lackadaisical
and beyond this ticking down like a cooling engine
of each possible minute I might find a voice
where instead I am cutting chicken
or peeling potatoes

Its not true that all writers who are women
are childless.  We are here
but guilty of living in sips and gasps
inside that room of one’s own
that is actually a linen closet
where poems whisper as we fold towels and maybe
if we are lucky enough

we remember the words
when time allows.

About Susan L Daniels

I am a firm believer that politics are personal, that faith is expressed through action, and that life is something that must be loved and lived authentically--or why bother with any of it?
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11 Responses to Excuses

  1. J. A. Panian says:

    Oh, dear. I SO get this, Susan. So much to say.
    I’ll be back.

      • J. A. Panian says:

        I try to write at night but mostly
        fall asleep before I can begin,
        before I can achieve the proper
        state of reverie, the space that
        I crave to create, that I cannot
        seem to make the time or the
        energy for. But yes, the words
        whisper to me when I cannot
        catch them and slip away before
        I can put them in their place,
        before I can place them where
        they will live and grow into more.
        I put the parts of them in little boxes,
        little bits of hair, a leaf dropped,
        a bone perhaps, found in the soil,
        slip them into a little book that I
        keep in my pocket to pull out
        later, to try to form into something–
        something more, something alive,
        something that can find the light
        to live when I can find the silence
        that it needs to let it grow. My days
        are far too noisy, my nights too short.

        The soul trudges on,
        slogs through the mud of life with
        little time to dig.

        And I am beginning the process of pursuing publication. So my blog languishes with only occasional posts about music or photography while I try to figure out what to put on it if I am not putting my meagre trickle of poetry up, saving what I can to submit and not knowing what is good enough and what I should just go ahead and blog.

        I have also been fondly remembering The Iron Poets and thinking that something like that might be a thing worth pursuing. Giving us a place to share and comment and critique without “publishing” our work as journals would see public blog posts. Would you be interested? Time-permitting of course?

        A couple of links to things I have been reading/listening to that immediately came to mind when I read your piece:



        I offer these things as perhaps a balm, a hand on the shoulder, a consolation in the true sense perhaps but without a prize to offer as I cannot prise the poems from their hidden places as often as I would like, as I feel I should, as I feel I need.

        Peace and love,
        Don’t stop digging.

        • J. A. Panian says:

          Guess I needed to talk. 😉

        • I would love to pursue something like the Iron Poets or to revive them in some sort again. THat was wonderful to be part of!

          THanks for sharing what you did here–I identify with it every second.

          I have two extremes of writing. Either I give the muse free reign and she runs rampant through my life, or she is silenced until I can write, which means as you said a trickle of poetry. Not good at all. I prefer it when I let the writing run rampant through my life.

          You should pursue publication. I love your work. It is exquisite!

  2. This is fabulous. Gosh. I love this. I feel this.

    Good to see posting, Susan.


  3. Oh Susan! I have missed you. 🙂 You say it for all of us and so beautifully. 🙂

  4. claudia says:

    ha yeah – i agree – most of my poems find me while peeling potatoes and things – ha – poetry is always a mirror for me of everyday life – that’s what makes a poem full and relevant

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