MorningPoems Podcast

S.2, E.0.75, New Poetry: “She & Me”

She & Me It's been months since she and me have been together—my heart misses her. I am so happy to be near to her —as she is happy to be with me. It has been too long, too much to be away from her already, but then I see, I see she is meant to be away from me. It's so the missing is sweeter. It’s so the reunions are deep. We walk together on bright days —when the fall wind comes seeping in. The chill in the air isn’t a death knell. The trees, they cannot stay green anymore —they want to fade. We walk silently through them as the wind rustles the leaves more. There is nothing we can say to each other. Nothing left to improve things. There is the longing in the miss, and the missing in the longing. Let that open today. — August 29, 2025, at 2:30 p.m. The MorningPoems Podcast Full Circle After much deliberation, I decided to take control of my previously published poems that I had on Facebook & Instagram. At the time I enlisted the help of Aina (Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/ainaklima) to help me catalog my work. You’d think someone like me—a former archivist & librarian—would be able to wield their own poetry collection around but it's daunting to organize one’s own work. The sane thing to do is enlist help. It creates distance and that distance creates the right amount of detachment to edit on your own. I do recommend hiring editors and auxiliary staff to help manage intellectual property. Any-the-how… Upon delivery, I couldn't resist doing something with the over 780 poems propped up on a spreadsheet for me to ogle. Moreover, content platforms like Meta own the rights to use (unlimited usage rights) your work for their benefit. Last June I read “Poor Doggie” (2015) aloud: 🐕https://tessmccarthy.substack.com/p/morningpoem-319 I began Season 1, Episode 1 with my dog. And, Season 2 is arching on the heels of spending time with my dog. I'll be moonwalking back to May 2021 for S.2, E.1—and, I can't wait to release it because it's about my late father. Recently, I got a mixer and finally hooked up my Rode mic with the help of a friend who does mixing & recording for a living. I’m lucky for that. Here is the bookmark to this mini-episode. Take a listen— 🎧: https://open.substack.com/pub/tessmccarthy/p/me-and-she Get full access to The MorningPoems Podcast + Morning Poems by Tess McCarthy at tessmccarthy.substack.com/subscribe [https://tessmccarthy.substack.com/subscribe?utm_medium=podcast&utm_campaign=CTA_4]

Season 2, Episode 0.5: Poetry reading from May 16, 2025, “Oh. Fantasy!”

Oh. Fantasy! Render me speechless with your kisses, I’ll close my eyes—go ahead. Trace your fingers across my belly so that I take your hands—as if to stop them —and kiss them as punishment. You feel so good. Who are you, and more importantly, why are you in my head? Why can’t you be in my bed? It would be funner if you were. But now, vivid doesn’t cut it. Instead of you touching me, I’m touching myself. Instead of kissing you, I’m kissing my pillow, I’m taking out my dildo—and, this has got to stop, break reality—please, for me, like an actor talking to the fourth wall. Step out of the set, walk down the hall, out the studio gates of this movie-like fantasy. Just promise me one thing— Let me be the Bogie to your Bacall. — May 16, 2025, at 7:11 a.m. // @morningpoems_ Credits The MorningPoems Podcast is spoken, written & produced by yours truly. You can follow me—or not follow me—on Instagram, but I don’t want them having your attention. I just want you, my darlings. Regrettably, this was posted on my Astrology/Jungian coaching account 🙄 Get full access to The MorningPoems Podcast + Morning Poems by Tess McCarthy at tessmccarthy.substack.com/subscribe [https://tessmccarthy.substack.com/subscribe?utm_medium=podcast&utm_campaign=CTA_4]

MorningPoems Preludes—A Season 2 Opener

Ghosts Ghosts of my father, my mother, my sister, and brother no longer bother. They still talk to me. My lover ghosts still haunt me —in good ways. I love the help they give me —especially in bed while sleeping. II. But give me the ghosts of my pets, please. Bring back Poogie—who ran away —after eight years. Bring back Piglet —who did not die in my company because I left my ex. And bring back Georgia —oh, for the love of the goddess, please. She was someone I loved so deeply and purely. She’s the ghost I miss the most. I want to hear her stirring in quiet morning hours. I want to hear the couch poof to her psychic landing. I want to smell summer grass at the top of my nose and I want to feel mossy mud between my toes for those are things that remind me of her. Pet ghosts are good things I am not afraid of —even the three ghosts of goldfish I flushed down the toilet —I’m so deeply sorry, forgive me. III. Ghosts are the energy patterns which stand for my love, and our sweet interactions. Ghosts of my friends, my ancestors, and those who have loved me, sit beside me, walk with me, and drive shotgun in my car, please. I miss your company, my Sweeties. — May 8, 2025, at 7:28 a.m. Get full access to The MorningPoems Podcast + Morning Poems by Tess McCarthy at tessmccarthy.substack.com/subscribe [https://tessmccarthy.substack.com/subscribe?utm_medium=podcast&utm_campaign=CTA_4]

Season 1 Finale! S.1, E.8: Poetry from my mother's birthday, August 17th, 2014 & 2016

Season 1’s End: A Tribute to My MomMy parents! Now that they’ve passed, I try to surround myself with their pictures because I miss them deeply. Recently, I heard on a podcast that true wisdom comes from forgiving your parents. While I don't claim to be wise, I can say that I've learned a great deal from forgiving my parents for their imperfections, for being human, for their shortcomings and mistakes, for the times they hit me, called me worthless, ugly, and stupid, for not valuing me, and for not standing up for me. It has taken me several decades to reach this realization. Forgiving my parents has been a long and arduous journey, akin to weeding a garden. Happy birthday, Mommy (from Lyon) Hope you liked walking through streets with Eileen and I. You even followed me into that Gallic-Roman museum and watched over my shoulders as I drew ancient Roman artifacts. "All stone," you told me "too much." But we went into that church high on the hill. A long tapered candle I lit in your name for one Euro and you were gone. Guess there was someone calling for you. You went out in a "poof" like when you've made your birthday wish, on your birthday cake. // August 17, 2014, at 7:23 a.m. in Lyon Morning Poem #57 August 17, 1927 I do not know the weather conditions on that day, nor can I recall what day it was that my mother brought me into this world, but it was a force of effort which I would experience myself having brought in about twelve children of my own, but really some not surviving, which always has made me sad. On this day, I'll tell you that my brothers and sisters welcomed me if not, they were perhaps jealous? But I am the last of all my mother's children, so I must be the best and last. I tell my daughter stories because I can't remember details nor can I find the words in her language--English--to describe relationships to people or things the way I can in my language. I know, I've said this before, but in my language we have words for those interrelated things! Maybe I told my youngest daughter how all the doctors: witch doctors, midwives and physicians ran to our home to help my mother in labor: Because I knew, somehow, there was a big, dramatic commotion stirring, then all things stopped the minute I breathed into the air. That was the true story. However, I told my daughter I was born under a lily pad, and was found by my father who discovered me on top of that lily pad and that I was covering myself with the petals of the flower that grew from it, silly me, huh? I also forgot to tell her that I had fairy wings // August 17, 2015 at 8:08 a.m. Morning Poem #372 SYNOPSIS In Season 1, Episode 8 of the Morning Poems Podcast, Tess still talks about Emily Dickinson. She candidly discusses her mission's exhaustion, her COVID bouts, and her reflections on parental forgiveness. Celebrating her mother's birthday, the poet reads two heartfelt poems from 2014 and 2016, reminiscing about a visit to Lyon and embodying her mother's voice in the Lyon poem. Shoutouts to some Substack accounts and a heads-up to listeners about an upcoming poetry series called Witchlore in Season 2. 00:00 Introduction and Host Background 01:32 Housekeeping and Social Media 02:51 Shout Outs and Inspirations 04:08 Episode Recap and Personal Reflections 04:51 Mommy's Birthday and Poetry Reading 13:47 Poem: Happy Birthday Mommy from Lyon 15:03 Poem: August 17, 1927 17:39 Conclusion and Season 2 Teaser Get full access to The MorningPoems Podcast + Morning Poems by Tess McCarthy at tessmccarthy.substack.com/subscribe [https://tessmccarthy.substack.com/subscribe?utm_medium=podcast&utm_campaign=CTA_4]

At my atelier—my podcast/art studio and HQ in San Francisco’s Mission

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