THE PENSIVE POET
poem submitted to "The Pensive Poet" poetry contest, Constance La France, sponsor, August 1, 2026
“A poet is a quiet wanderer, a gatherer of light, a wordsmith of the unseen truths that rise only when the heart listens.” quote by poetess
Morning finds me at an open window,
coffee cooling beside a notebook
I’ve not yet convinced myself to open.
I watch the light consider the room,
softening the corners
as though it knows I need gentleness
before the words arrive.
I think in long, slow arcs~
thoughts drifting like migrating birds,
never rushed, never forced,
just circling until they choose
the right branch to land on.
By noon, a memory stirs.
It brushes my shoulder
like someone passing behind me~
a small reminder
that the past still wants to speak
if I’m willing to listen.
I pause,
and the pause becomes a doorway.
Afternoon settles in.
I write a line,
then cross it out,
then write another
that feels truer,
closer to the pulse
I’ve been hoping to name.
I’m not chasing brilliance nor perfection;
I’m tracing the shape
of what the heart remembers
but rarely says aloud.
By evening,
the page holds a quiet constellation~
not a finished poem,
but the beginnings of one,
bright enough to keep me company
as the day folds itself away.
I close the notebook gently,
the way one closes a thought
that will return tomorrow.
I am a pensive poet~
one who knows that meaning
doesn’t shout,
but leans in softly
and waits to be found.
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