I am losing ground,
disinterest piling up,
suffocating – I moan
childish communication
enraged, and humiliated,
hurt; my opinion more
impulse than acceptable
relatives bitch, correct,
dethrone me – an outsider
sidling in, like a politician
mingling, lingering, attacked
why am I so dependent
on this oddball interaction?
celebration is just a formality
and my enthusiasm misplaced
but at least, I am present.
I loved him with the passion
of a child – he was the sun
and I the golden calf – a mutual
worship, trust and respect.
His words were my sustenance,
mother’s lap busy with a baby,
older sisters reluctant to embrace
a half-sister and unasked for dad.
Reassured by his promises,
bolstered by his protectiveness
I felt his loyalty, committed to
reciprocating, so when he turned
on mother – his tongue a cruel
master – I faulted her too,
guessed she must be lower
than the exalted – he and I –
but as the tirades escalated
and the promises fell empty,
the tarnish began to show,
and I shifted allegiance –
intervened against maniacal
outbursts, tried to interject
sensibility, dissuade drunken
frays, the ferocity of his heat
no long warming, crushed
our family’s equilibrium –
he disappeared to soon
into the safety of death
left me reeling in the dark,
trying to decipher the codes
of his torment, the betrayal of
a father who was once my sun.
Attending awards ceremonies
calls for muzzled comportment,
fail to appreciate the adulation
of one over many, tend to believe
these things are tainted, overblown
but this is just the ramblings of
a self-defacing personality, opinions
unacceptable in most circles, and
certainly amongst those whose scoff
at such remarks, view me as common
those who sniff at the asses of the noted
and noteworthy, as if proximity equates
with greatness, ignoring the fact that
success is achieved through hard work
and cooperation, trampling the ‘littles’
in their scramble for accolades –
it’s disparaging – am I alone in feeling
as if I’m watching an out of control
train, headed for derailment, an event
sure to elicit fame – at such a cost?
(The Daily Post prompt is tend. ))
Introducing
colour to water
offering it up
to blank pages
learning less is better
and gentle strokes
elicit blossoming results
Introducing
colour to water
breathing life into
blank spaces
offering gentleness
to blossoming creativity
reveling in the delight.
(This poem was penned for the Story Circle’s Network
e-poetry group in response to February’s prompt – treasured
moments.”
Teach the children to comply,
to learn by rote, to master
the art of performance
encourage them to control
the chatter, their fidgets
behave like little adults
so as adults they may
struggle for authenticity
confuse society with audience
forgo instincts for crowd
pleasing responses – wonder
at the innocence of children.
Tenacious are we,
will not be derailed
by rock-hard inflexibility
nor disintegrating foundations
we endure, require little
in the way of adulation
or support, self-sufficient
warriors, timeless
we adhere to a call
of evolution, indestructible,
sustained by a productivity
and a steadfast will.
(Inspired by this photo taken at Coon’s Bluff, Tonto National Forest, Arizona.)
Aging, I am
and disabled,
unreliability
trending
Escape is proposed
my oozing scars
beg a stand
discover determination
This slumbering
has become impulsive
need discipline
to quiet the pain
I am whiny
self-mothering
counselling bedrest
prone to coddling
need to shake off
this disoriented
weakened state –
escaped is proposed.
It’s all about investment, really
life, I mean – make a deposit,
withdraw – hope that in the end
the gain is worth more than
the cost – a healthy balance.
Have been running deficits,
too focused on serving others,
practicing the art of giveaways –
incentives to capture attention
(affection too, if I’m honest.)
I’m every marketer’s dream –
impulsive, in the moment,
disbelieve that time is money –
illness having dumped time
on my lap in massive dollops
I’d say energy equates with
income, begets funds – all
redundant now, overdrawn
as I am, no safety deposit
securing balanced health.
She sprinkles her commentary
with spikes of criticism
like a bee intent on finding honey
but stinging instead
strikes hard at the heart of the matter
manages to counter my aspirations
all attempts to swat away her words
are weak – she is my mother
and my sentiments are clouded
her jabs bite, inflame
and despite my apparent maturity
reduce me to childish panic.
Outlets, I have plenty,
for the excrement that accumulates
within these challenged walls
I soak and scrub, and
paint my cabinets yellow
hoping the optimism will sink in
will match the green of my smile
the expansiveness of my exterior
but the in-dwellers are provoked
question ego’s motivation
in selling off the residence
shaking their sedentary slumber
there was respite in disability
an imposed seclusion that calmed
the worries, invited complacency
who can rest in this motorized
uprooted reality, and what purpose
will evolve from the overflow
of emotions that flood, flashes
of insecurity, defying wisdom
threatening to cloud our sunshine?
One Woman's Quest 