Passion for writing ignites my soul's momentum
Countless, the timesI’ve spoken out of place –words spilling unfiltered –grading myself harshlyin the aftermath – Yet a pauciloquent tonguewould leave me drowningthoughts stirringin a stagnant pool –perhaps I’ll strivefor moderation. (Image my own)
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Tell my woes to Rivershe listens graciouslyan empathic mirror Not so the Jackdawwhose arrogant clatteringderides self-pity Slaps me consciousfor I am victim, yes, andif not careful, abuser. (Tuesdays, I borrow from Twitter @Vjknuton.Image my own)
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Children moanreflect the day’s gloom We are virus-cautiousconfined indoors While ‘I-wannas’buzz at windowpanes and news feeds mountthe terror – I scream silently, pray foruncommon patience Pause as eagle,soaring overhead tips a wing my waybids me a good day. (Eugi’s Weekly Prompt is soaring. Image my own)
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I lied. The initial seed of disappointment has fermented, and in the absence of confrontation, grown roots written sorrowful chaptersconclusion: unworthiness Why couldn’t I just have said:I don’t understandthis makes me unhappy? Where did I learn that prevarication protectsthat I alone am responsible for emotionsthat I do not matter? Decades laterI still cannot uproot the […]
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I am woman questing… a warriorslashing bondsof painful past an aerialistbalancing strifewith fleeting bliss a she-reptileshedding distrustin vulnerability, growing I push throughthe tangled mazeof personas, seek a truth that frees my spiritand roots my essenceinto blessed being For I am womanwith a quest…striving on… (Art my own. I call her The Mother Tree)
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Acts of vandalismare not deserved Grime of violationdoes not wash off If change is targetthen create intrigue Highlight inequitydemonstrate alternatives Crash and burnineffective as hell. (Tuesdays, I borrow from Twitter @Vjknutson.Image my own.)
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Tired of same old endingsin which hopes are slaughteredand tragedy and insanity win. Raised by the bottle, learnedto set standards low –still afraid of heights –have fallen as the groundbeneath my aspirations crumbled –a certainly under alcohol’s rule. Tired of same old endingsin which self is battered by indifferenceand ego loses the battle for control. […]
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Pain circumvents our fearssqueezes relentlessly Still we proceedwithholding complaint for this is labour –a trial that harnesses depth of determinationunfathomable focus Somewhere along the processan instantaneous shift there is wonder to beholdand indescribable bliss Birth is happeningand they’ll be no going back. (Art mine)
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Morning meleewith coffee pot –canister escaped gripcontents scatteredclean up ensuedsharp warningsto dogs eagerto help –second roundforgot to empty pothot liquid seepingeverywhere –I’m a tea drinker. Need I describe more?
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Trapped inside two-dimensional torusbackward spinning Not even my pulseemits an echo – would needa third dimension for that Am geometrically disfigured,an illusion, I fear, for humansubstance seldom adds up. (Tuesdays, I borrow from Twitter @Vjknutson. Image my own,)
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