Month: May 2019

Truth and Contrasts

Dark this passage,
blustery the winds
that rattle the glass,
cold seeping through cracks,
light receding.

prabhakar-1

Life, we are sold,
should be parties
and castles – dreams
without limits –
disingenuous campaign

Truth lies somewhere
in-between –
elusive, yet enticing –
I would exit this isolation
shake the starkness
for but a glimpse.

(Images supplied by Reena’s Exploration challenge.  Also inspired by Ragtag Community’s prompt: blustery, and Fandango’s: disingenuous.)

 

The Toll

Am not the woman my children once called Mother –
can see the disappointment in their anger-blotched
expressions, feel the constraint in their voices –

distance between us tugs on my heart, plays with
my conscience, as if illness is choice – a contrived
plot to rob them of their expectations –

hope they can forgive me before it’s too late;
hope they can forgive themselves.

Duelling Personas

Outward facing –
contrived effort –
composure checked,
face appropriately presented.

I turn away –
internal chaos clouding –
lacking resources
for social banter

Wolves taunt me –
predatory monsters
shaming me into retreat –
defences down.

Wade back into superficial,
desperation seeking solace –
hide the flooding within.

 

 

Dance of Redundancy

Re-
dun-
dant,
these
rituals
by which 
I define myself –
find purpose, validate
my being – I create herculean
tasks, ignore God’s role, the cycles
of nature; script myself responsibility –
a dramatic starring role with no applause,
and in the end, when light has given over to dark
and this body has failed me, will objectivity set me free
or shall I return to do it all again…a hypnotic spiral dance?

(Inspired by Willow Poetry’s Challenge:  What Do You See?  Featured image is the prompt.)

Lost Directions

Partnered once, with compassion –
believed in power of human touch,
dedicated self to caring, certain
I’d found my body of work

Time and circumstance intervened;
I drifted, lost in an eddy of confusion,
marital fray ending in separation –

Life moves in circular cycles, and
I revisit that work now, wonder if
parts are salvageable, viable –

fragments outdated, irrelevant –
compassion still holds merit,
what if I let it drive, put ego
in the passenger seat –

would she steer us down one-way
streets, against the flow to traffic,
rattle elusive confidence –

without trust in process, I lack
assurance of youth’s glory –
would not survive the scramble

Circular lines bypass, spiral;
we are not meant to go back;
must breathe and stop grasping.

(Lost Directions first appeared here in October 2017.  I have edited it and resubmit for my weekly challenge: compassion.)

Bleeding Edges

Wrap myself in verdant dreams –
creaseless envelope of hope –
have written my deepest desire,
sealed the vessel shut…

meanwhile, reality oozes red,
like puss from open wounds,
creeps into careful corners,
bleeds through edges…

nothing neat about dreaming –
life demands, cuts, prods,
does not bargain – hope is fine
unless control is the container.

(Inspired by the prompts of Ragtag Community: verdant; Fandango: meanwhile; and Reena’s Exploration Challenge: bleeding edge.)

Image from personal collection.