creativity · dreams · poetry · psychology · writing

Talking To Myself

Tripping over guilt
how I need to make amends

Meanwhile, charity
leaves me vulnerable

Lose credibility,
momentum

No longer a pick up for others
ditched without a lifeline

***

These are but feelings
I’m more comfy couch
than utility vehicle
and credibility –
well that’s earned

Pick myself up
wade through vulnerability
grateful for giving hands
some amends best left
to the lessons gained
guilt not worth the trouble.

(Much of my poetry is derived from dreamwork. Dreams use exaggeration and humour to evoke understanding. In this poem, I am able to see both at play, leading me to the more empowering response. Thanks for reading. Image my own.)

poetry · psychology · writing

Marketably Obtuse?

I seek the elusive –
organize thoughts
attempt to draw
reason from obtuse

Project possibility
into unattainable
hoping to acquire
marketable commodity

Refuse to acknowledge
happiness is subjective
and bliss reserved
for those who let go.

(Tuesdays I borrow from Twitter @Vjknutson. Image my own.)

adversity · grief · poetry · writing

Stop the Words

These thought processes…
I am inside out, shredded…
on so many levels
out of sync…
hear my own words
nothing but hot air
making me so dizzy
that I’m becoming afraid
of heights….
phobic, actually

Breathe,
I remember somewhere
between gulps of helium
and the hammering
in my head…
breathe…

Platitudes have no place
in this moment
in the inside out
emotionally raw now

So, I’ll quit the words
breathe until I find ground
again….
then repeat.

(Inspired by the prompt of Reena’s Exploration challenge which can found here. Image my own.)

Family · life · poetry · relationships · writing

No Idea!

Girls are lucky: just need to find the right man –
looked after for life.
Advice from a teenaged brother.

Right! I yell back, fifty years later.
It was all a vacation –
raising the children on my own
looking for God in the midst of chaos
partners with wandering eyes
or absent…always absent…
still waiting for that “looking after”

And how did you make out, Brother Dear?
Oh, that’s right… married
… woman with a good job
willing to let you putter in the background

Guess we were both misled.

(Image my own.)





disability · Humour · ME/ CFS · poetry · writing

Ride Along With Me (2)

Passenger, am I
backseat traveller
input unsolicited

I ride along.

Passenger, am I
view limited
direction speculative

I am not driving.

Driver is motivated
self-assured
I relax…until
temptation boards

Wait a minute; who invited temptation?

Driver is distracted
ego taking the wheel
Who’s paying attention?

I am not alone.

Lackadaisical dropout
sits with me – mooch
and weekend boozer

How did he get here?

Vehicle is outdated,
I warn, not a lot of room
ride at your own risk

They don’t make them like this anymore.

Crazy sister is here too
or maybe it’s me, ’cause I swear
I saw the ghost of another

It’s a good thing I’m not driving.

Darkness falling and out of gas
we stop and neon lights blare
Make a break for it!

Or… I could find a new driver.

Maybe put God at the wheel.
Would have to pay attention.
Oust the adulteress and sloth.

Be on my best behaviour.

Turn my vehicle into a golden chariot
powered by horses with wings of white
fly above all the obstacles

Headed for the Promised Land.

All fantasy, of course
I’m a backseat passenger
until vitality is restored

Then I’ll park this old model

And get a new one with GPS.

(Ride along with me first appeared her November 2014. This version is edited. Image my own.)