It is all poetry

Writing and creating into the void... because the art of "noticing" still matters, and in the end it is all poetry

May 04, 2025

I set a *lofty goal earlier this year, though it felt reasonable at the time, to try to send a monthly Substack. In Q1 of this year, I sent somewhere around 19 mass emails for my day job, including monthly newsletters, in addition to publishing 12 blogs, and something like 100 social media posts… and yet I find the few remaining brain cells I have after 40 hour work week a struggle to do the rest of my “life” with. To parent with, exercise with, and have some semblance of a “hobby” or work-life balance with. Let alone use to fuel or practice my creative practice with.

April was National Poetry Month, there are so many poets I love and follow, and a stack of poetry books I have on the bookshelf next to my work desk. (I have what I’d like to call an endearing habit of leaving TBR stacks of books in miscellaneous places around the house, actually just piles of books, but they do have a system in my mind anyway, if you ask my husband, he may have a different opinion). I planned to share a list- poets you should read, female poets I love, modern poets/poetry, etc.

Instead I found myself thinking about a framed poem in our house that my oldest son wrote in 3rd or 2nd grade ( he is now soon going into 5th this upcoming school year- cue the tears) 😭

It reads something like this-

”Where can poetry be found?” by Elijah

In my brother Zeke
In my family
In my school
In my cats
In my dad’s steak
In my sports cards
In my Legos
In my pictures
In my mom’s tacos
In my eggs

*Cue more tears. 😭 I could be biased as his mom, but this might be one of my all-time favorite poems.

Because my son knows something I all too often forget- poetry can be found everywhere because it is all poetry.

All of life is art. All of life is poetry. Nothing is too small or mundane for noticing. In. fact my favorite writing typically uses beautiful sensory language to describe something seemingly mundane. And I guess the point of it all is that while I bemoaned a month or more gone by that I couldn’t or didn’t write in this space or for myself, that even if I don’t have a fancy daily writing practice like morning pages, or putting my butt in the chair for fifteen minutes a day, I do want to try to do something in service of my writing everyday, my life really- noticing. I want to notice more.

So, where am I finding poetry these days? In the loose tooth lost in the backseat last week by my youngest son, who is all too soon going to finish first grade. In the way the air smells sweet in these late springs, evenings and early mornings. In the rainbow bird that shows up at the bedside window from time to time. In the starting of a garden this weekend. A reminder of the hope with which we plant, toil, weed, and sow seeds, hoping to cultivate beauty and growth.

In a silly little day trip for my 31st birthday. Did I drive 2-3 hours to visit a Trader joe’s, half price bookstore and arboretum? Yes, yes I did. 10/ 10 recommend an adult yes day if you are stumped/ dealing with the birthday blues.

Our family is in the thick of “May-cember,” like so many of you, I imagine. The final days of school, field days, field trips, end-of-school-year parties, teacher appreciation week, mothers’ day, graduation season, summer camp registration, etc. At the same time, things are ramping up at my work to prepare for one of the biggest events of the year, come fall, and a summer-long campaign. And, and, and…. life “lifeing” as it does. Still I’ve decided to sign up again for a monthly writing class that meets in my local community 1x a week on Monday nights for the community, accountability, and because this is what writing/creating looks like for me in this season.

In a recent counseling session, I said that it sometimes feel like all the small things I do to stay/ feel sane/ not go totally insane and fall into total despair ( more on this later) feels like spraying a facial mister towards a blazing fire… simply not enough. But maybe something’s better than nothing? And I was reminded that though the *fire is real, so is the *hose. It’s easy to feel overcome by all the stress of life, work, the utter sh*t show that every major news headline or recent policy change is, the utter shit show that Living with chronic illness is. That my body feels like its trying to quit on me like nearly every day.

Still, the ways we are trying to keep our heads on straight, be present parents, be good neighbors, caring co-workers, and kind human beings, staying empathetic in the midst of so much crisis fatigue, well, that is just as real as the blazing fire, the chaos, and the mess.

Motherhood Musings

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