Thursday, April 2, 2015

First Home

I dwelt
under a cage of ribs,
and was fed from
blood pushed through
oxygenated by lungs
that sang and argued and
laughed and whispered

I was woven
from the dreams carded and
thoughts spun and
stories that knit together
in a tapestry of
sun and wind and plains
and paths into forests
and over oceans
leading ever

Mama Zen over in the Imaginary Garden asked us to write about the house they built us for day #2 of National Poetry Month, Poem a Day.


  1. Mary, this is beautiful. This speaks of joy and nurturing.

  2. Home is a place to come to, right Mary. You character came a long way from mother's womb even to being over oceans, but still there was a way to home. I like your tapestry patterns.

  3. Yes of course, that is our first home, where we are built, and how beautifully you evoke it.

  4. Thanks everyone. I thought maybe I was being too...trite, but I did it anyway.

  5. From womb to the weave of dreams - this is a whole new angle on the subject.

  6. Oh, wow. I wish that I had written this.

  7. Blood is life as breath is also, the care in forming you is well intimated

    Very interesting poem

    Thanks for stopping over to read mine

    Much love...

  8. Taking us all back to the promise and the very real magic of that first home--you even manage to weave a path from it forward and back that feels as open and compelling as the birth canal itself--if that isn't too whacked out a metaphor! Enjoyed this much, Mary.

  9. I want to visit this home... and stay there until I discover everything about it. What a place, to be remembered in such a glorious way.

    Love the second line. A lot.

  10. Lovely Mary, great to have you writing agin ands with such freshness and luminosity too.. Especially admired and enjoyed:

    "...oxygenated by lungs
    that sang and argued and
    laughed and whispered..."


    "... woven
    from the dreams carded and
    thoughts spun..."

    VERY Lovely... With Best Wishes Scott xxx