Winter defines this stage,
this page, night descending
too early for my taste.
If I catch a falling star,
can I shed the excess
layers of this confinement
Follow animal impulses
to a sunnier clime, restore
exuberance of noble youth?
Passion persists, intelligence
in tact, just need a brighter
angle from which to reveal it.
(Lillian is hosting dVerse poetics tonight with the prompt: shed. I am also linking up to Willow Poetry’s “What Do You See?” challenge: photo prompt; and Ragtag Community: angle; as well as Fandango’s: noble.)
Proficient at constructing frames,
I plaster over old mistakes,
convinced that survival equates
with marble – am I not a living
example of metamorphosis?
Yet, my doorways lack locks
and there are intruders in
the basement – confidence
dissipates as rage heightens –
(Penned for the prompts of Ragtag Community – marble; Fandango – plaster; and Manic Mondays Three Way Prompt – evanescent.)
Water mimics sky,
withholds resplendence of blue,
dons a grey raincoat.
I search for sustenance
with indifference –
have difficulty navigating
the aisles of available options.
Divorced from former dreams,
I hunger for renewed inspiration,
encounter only loss and confusion.
Goddess advises, and I,
hear only assertions
I exit possibility,
have lost the vessel
that once propelled me.
(Linking up to Reena’s Exploration Challenge #70)
When their hot tongues lie,
I cry bitter milk –
time can rip at friendly water,
blow him from my sea,
though his shot a show –
am so blue,
a bare want,
in those lies dressed.
(Poem inspired by the offerings of Magnetic Poetry online.)
In weakness vines cling,
crave a solid bolstering –
sage advice: no wall.
(Written for Ronovan Writes Haiku Challenge: sage / vine.)
Sun blazes before it falls,
slashes the day’s sky –
blue guarding against blaze.
Golden grasses absorb
the fire, brazen in their
Branches blacken –
forlorn bristles –
stark against light.
I stand on the precipice,
day’s end beckoning,
taunting, my spirit alive
Will blaze before it falls,
lashing against the heavens
who dare to threaten darkness.
Downy blankets of white softly settle,
Nature gratefully submitting to slumber
as the Earth bids a seasonal adieu.
Inside, my body craving hibernation,
curls into layered bedding, draws shades
against the snowy scene, wills respite.
My soul, a cat, lulled by the miracle
stretches wide paws, arches, ready
to discover some mystic wilderness.
She is primordial, a snow leopard,
camouflaged, elusive, a silent stalker
instinctively hungry for nourishment.
Weakened, I yield, certain she will prey
on this near lifeless flesh, leaving me
bloodless, hide-less: a mere carcass.
Then I shall lay down in the frigid warmth
of winter’s illusion and surrender rotting
self to the Earth’s core; pray for rebirth.
(Soul Stalker first appeared here in January of 2016. I am submitting it for dVerse’s prompt: Confessional poetry, hosted by HA.)
that vital ingredient –
threatens to rebuke us,
these haphazard habits
equating to negligence.
retirement’s foundation –
falter, then plunge,
a mini crisis hitting
too close to home.
prodded by re-evaluation –
scoffs at ideal’s naiveté,
(Written for dVerse’s quadrille night, hosted by Whimsygizmo, whose prompt is change. All submitting to Ragtag Community’s, vital; Fandago’s, rebuke; and Manic Mondays 3 Way prompt, imperfection.)
We wait at the station, Mother and I,
one final stop for her – painless she prays;
I linger at bedside – prolonged goodbye –
memories and regrets filling our days.
“We live too long,” she wearily proclaims,
“Why must suffering linger till the end?”
I plea and bargain, call angelic names,
yet the will to survive refuses to bend.
The urgency builds as my time dwindles;
must I leave her in this compromised state?
She rallies and stands on wobbly spindles
dismisses fears – has accepted her fate.
Some destinations are clearly defined –
death is a train whose schedule’s unkind.
(Penned for dVerse’s poetry forms – the sonnet.)