I’m returning the jewels
loaned to me
Settling
for smaller trinkets…
…a teddy bear
a paper parasol…
I know it’s been a while
but I haven’t forgotten
It’s harder these days
relying on others
Accommodations unnerve
so I stay away…
…a silver ring
a hat for Teddy…
It’s enough really
I haven’t much to spend
but your faith in me
means a lot
and warmed by our connection
I’m willing to invest…
I don’t need diamonds or pearls
just trinkets to remind me…
(Image my own)
Two-tongued –
speaking both heart and mind –
complex languages, whose nuance
I’ve never quite mastered,
yet am conversant in.
It’s a constant learning
to nail enunciation –
linguistics a tiresome topic
The mind,
a guttural language,
leans toward equation and absolutes –
hard consonants and long vowels
While heart-speak rolls
off the tongue in softer,
cooing syllables –
elongated tones and
whimsical passages.
I’d happily demonstrate
the extent of my proficiency
but the two-tongues
are currently contradictory,
the clamour of their discord
drowning out the peace
requisite for translation.
(Tongue Tied first appeared here October 2018. Image my own)
Caring hearts
shine bright
Needs, like moths,
flock to light
Cast shadows
threaten to eclipse
But love’s fight
is eternal.
(Linking up to Reena’s Exploration Challenge after a long hiatus. Image my own)
“Trade you and ‘n’
for a ‘v'”, I said
to the moon
to the sun
to the bird
at my window
All obliged
and now
my lonely day
is lovely,
lovely,
lovely.
(This is a repost. Hope it made you smile as much as it did me. Image my own)
Walking away is the only solution
I’ve ever excelled at, and yet,
absence does not obliterate
that which dwells within
I can pretend that I have nothing
to offer, but life and circumstance
require more: challenge me
to exhume remaining potential
Am I up to the task?
There is flattery in being looked up to,
the feeling that someone needs me –
but that is akin to temptation –
an ego play…
Could it be that wisdom acquired
has merit only when shared,
that we are all here to do our part,
that we are meant to engage?
Will I find a flow, rediscover
a synchronicity, reignite
a passion, and belong again?
Dare I hope?
(I first wrote this poem, two and half years into a debilitating illness that kept me bed bound. This version is edited, and I chose to share it now as a reminder not to give up. The answer to the questions posed is a resounding “Yes!” Image my own)
“Brazen’s a hussy!”
heard herself say,
as bullies circled on
playground that day
“You’re a sissy!”
the sass came back,
launched herself –
a full-on attack
Pinned the biggest
to gritty concrete floor
“You’re weird!” cried the cowards
who bothered her no more.
(Originally written for Twitter. Image my own)
Mother followed all the trends –
Scarsdale and grapefruit diets,
minis and maxis,
platforms and pumps –
reaching for an ideal
my child’s mind
could not comprehend
Father dreamt of a voice makeover
had flown his ancestral roots
in search of…what?
I did not know
I learned that men
were to be pleased,
and compassion
was a woman’s role
and it was folly to hazard
confrontation when alcohol
was in the mix,
Intangible as life was
I deduced that secrets –
the avoidance of scandal –
rendered women ineffective
and by the very circumstance
of my birth, I was tainted,
weighted by shame
destined to endure
pain as love
invested in
my worthlessness
Except life is evolution
and rage emerges
from oppression
and conviction
smashes the impotence
of ideals, embraces
the abstracts
of fluidities,
and merging out of shame
I see that struggle
is opportunity
and that rewriting legacies
is an honourable goal
and I do have power
in any given moment…
only wish
I had known it
sooner.
(Art my own)
Biting, the sun’s brilliance,
nestled in a cornflower blue sky –
competition for mustard gold,
tangerine orange, and chartreuse –
leaves shimmering this Autumn morn
The vividness of colours too sharp
for just awakened eyes – begs retreat.
I contemplate this vision, think:
life is like this –
too beautiful, at times for words;
glorious perfection.
In a blink, the sky changes
white clouds forming a backdrop,
Autumn wind tossing the tree about,
branches dipping, pull apart,
and the harmony of the last moment
is gone, and I think:
Life is like this –
turning without notice,
what once was balance, suddenly lost,
and we are left spinning.
I can hear it now – wind rushing
against the windowpane, taunting:
Change! Change is coming!
I know what it speaks is true, for
life is like this: ever fluctuating, and
the reminder is bittersweet,
my heart, reluctant to let go of Summer
knows it’s okay: it’s just the way of life.
(A rewrite of a rewrite. Image my own)
A window opened
I climbed through
forgetting…
October’s window
filled with promise,
just beyond the pane
Denial is a weasel
leads me towards
the edge…
Those madmen thoughts:
ambition, self-importance –
life has humbled me,
yet again…
(Poem first appeared on Twitter. Art my own)
Remember how we fought
at four and five –
over whose turn it was
to push the baby buggy?
Your Campbell soup baby face
locks curlier than mine;
eyes a brighter sparkle
How you withdrew from me with age
ashamed your mother was an alcoholic –
I did not care, carried my own secrets
How you chose drugs to cope,
while I went straight – the line
too wide to cross, it seemed.
You were my roots, dear friend
the rock I needed to ground me
Life, back then, never easy
Secrets tore us apart – projections
of judgments never actualized
somehow, I never measured up
I see you now, shrouded in the mist
of my own grief, understand that your turmoil
ran deeper than I had known, and one day
when we meet in Heaven,
I will embrace the whole you
and we will laugh at how secrets
whose very disclosure would have solidified us
kept us more and more distant – so little
did we know of love at the time.
(Lorraine died at the age of 26 – complications from drug use. After her death, I learned that she was a lesbian, a secret that she thought she could not share with me at the time. She had not known that I would not have judged her. Sadly, we never had the chance. I loved her so.)
One Woman's Quest 