A Pocketful of Poesy was and is again a Poem-a-Day(-on-Average) Blog! For 2009, 2010, 2011, 2012, and now for 2017 and going forward, you may expect to see 365 poems every year, 366 for leap years. Try the RANDOM button to sample the sometimes surprising breadth of quality (and in several Novembers, breathtaking quantity as well), or click the "ANY GOOD" label* for those poems labeled with it. On any poem, old or new, feel free to offer your remarkable insight or critical acumen.

*I haven't yet revisited many pockets and stretches of time to appraise and label the "any goods," so some are missing. Please feel free to point out omissions, or - especially - erroneous inclusions, in comments.

but aren't they all random?

Wednesday, April 24, 2013

putting things away where they go

pick it up. Hold it in your hand.

pretend you don't know where it is.

Go Look For It.

First place you look is where it goes. Put it there!

Consistently,
Consistently,

this won't help you find something
if you don't know where it is, because
you didn't put it where it goes. But,
next time

And if everything ends up on the kitchen counter, well
maybe that's just where it all goes

Sometimes there's one overpowering place
where things feel like they "go,"

if so - you have to fix in your mind: your house,
in all its nooks and rooms
and shelves,

all the places in it that naturally call out
for things to live there! get a feel
for each of those.

THEN,
go back to the kitchen counter. Pick up the first thing
that needs a new home, and you ask yourself:

"Where's the second place this goes?"

Some people may need to perform a ritual.

You don't have to, you could skip it. But it might
be nice! Could be something like, "Oh candlemaking machine,
you have chosen the kitchen counter as your home. I honor you,
and ask permission to relocate you to your new home
which is a fine and worthy home,
for appliances
that have not to do with food preparation.

I take you now to the hall cupboard.

The kitchen counter is forever your first home!
The home of your childhood as an appliance -
ever will I look for you there, first! And my wistful eye
will miss you,

but

you and I will both recall,
and find you at home in your
better and more suited place:

hall cupboard."

The ritual
isn't because we must debase ourselves
to ask permission of inanimate objects. It's just
a nifty mnemonic,
to set in place and reinforce
all the wheres, and whys and wherefores.

You do have to say it out loud,
though.

And wear a blue robe.

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