Poetry from Daily Life: Embracing — and praising — the ordinary

This week’s guest on "Poetry from Daily Life" is Marjorie Maddox, who lives in Williamsport, Pennsylvania, home of the Little League World Series. Marjorie published her first poem in Campfire Girl Magazine at the age of 8. She writes poetry, fiction, creative nonfiction, and children’s literature. Recently, she loved writing "In the Museum of My Daughter’s Mind," a collaboration with her artist daughter, Anna Lee Hafer (www.hafer.work) and other artists. A unique fact about Marjorie is that she is the great grand-niece of Branch Rickey, the famed General Manager of the Brooklyn Dodgers, who helped break the color barrier by signing Jackie Robinson to Major League Baseball. ~ David L. Harrison

Ode to the ordinary

In a world awash in tragedy, it’s easy to overlook the ordinary: the simple beauty of the everyday, the breeze that reminds us to inhale and exhale, the still moments that whisper, “Look. See. Live.” Yes, poetry allows us to grapple with hard questions, but it also leaves room for daily gratitude.

Slow down. Breathe. Note three miracles about the body. Look in front, in back, and to each side of where you are standing. Acknowledge any change in perspective. Embrace surprise.

In your backyard or at a park, observe one creature, one motion, and one color that bring you joy. Walk to a different location and repeat. Talk with a stranger about what you discovered.

Before you write anything, revel in something ordinary, something that — like most of us — you may very well take for granted: the way shadows angle across the floorboards; how baked bread reminds you of your great aunt; or why a firefly, suddenly appearing out of the dark, brings the light you needed.

This, too, is the stuff of poetry: the ritual of laundry, the aroma of rain, the whir of a fan, the taste of brussels sprouts. Years ago, as a student editor of The Louisville Review, I read a poem entitled something like “To the Chicken I’m Cooking.” Though I don’t recall the author, I remember well the sense of freedom that even a chicken (even the chicken that I’m cooking right now in my real and ordinary kitchen) can, indeed, be the stuff — or stuffing — of poetry. It’s good to be reminded: We write to discover what we don’t know; we also write to discover more about what’s been right in front of us all along.

The everyday is where we live. Find something in it to praise.

Praise Poem for the Ordinary

For the pebble, the worm, the clothesline,

the warm bread, the simple turn of head

that says, “I heard you,” the burr that lets go

on its own, the bluebird that returns to perch

where the dogwood’s blossoms glow, the dim

light outside, the bright light within, the low

hum of hope when the unseen grows deep

in the hole you’ve dug in dry dirt

on an ordinary afternoon

just this side of Eden’s

repeated hallelujahs.

Marjorie Maddox is Professor Emerita of English and Creative Writing at the Lock Haven campus of Commonwealth University and the author of 20 books, including "Begin with a Question" (Paraclete). Her newest book, "Seeing Things," contains a series of odes, including the one above, which first appeared in One Art. Find out more at www.marjoriemaddox.com.