Too many bodies
encroach on peace;
I lack boundaries,
the self-worth
required to assert
needs – dwell
in basements,
mind cluttered,
external noise
obliterating me
Backdoor provides
escape, backyard,
back gate…
…freedom
I disappear
into the quiet
of the wild:
wooded sanctuary,
flowing water,
watchful eyes
of birds overhead
Here, I define self.
(Image my own)
Beneath vulnerability,
a piccolo, a sprite –
a tiny being with might,
a heart that shines,
radiance unsurpassed
One must dig past
brambles and spikes,
peel back wall of dislikes –
essence dwells in a den,
like buried treasure.
(Tuesdays, I borrow from Twitter @Vjknutson. Image my own)
The gambler puts in fifty-cents
expects hundreds in return;
a simple flick of the wrist
and abundance will be his.
I feel like a slot machine:
paying dues for minimal input.
Tells himself there is more
to be had, if luck runs his way;
walks away from the richness
of family, joy of friendships –
Id’ be a slot machine for him
if love equated with money
Dreams of possibilities beyond
his daily reach, a fast track plan:
fortune is calling, palm itching
just one more roll of the die –
The die has been cast here;
no longer willing to gamble.
One more momentous win,
a promise to share the wealth;
what more could any woman want
from a man – half an empty dream?
Took a chance, myself once,
thought he was my windfall…
guess, in the end, all gamblers lose.
(Originally penned Gambler in July, 2016. Image my own)
The loon’s call
pierces complacency…
I spiral backwards,
inwards – depths
of dream forgotten –
an eerie awakening.
(Image my own)
Neighbour locates dandelions,
meticulously digs up roots
muttering incoherently
in a gruff brogue
I ignore his temper, watch
the yellow-crowned beauties
surge beneath a warming sun;
hum a childish tune –
Dandelions wink.
(Tuesdays, I borrow from Twitter. Image my own)
Was willing to settle
even before casting off
anchorless, with no compass
to guide me, nor oar to steer
left fate to the currents
a vessel adrift; naïve
trusted those with power
to rescue me, unaware
of the target vulnerability
made of me, that sharks
like to circle wayward
boats, certain of a catch
no wonder, when finally
I came ashore, wrecked
I had lost faith in love,
turned hope to cynicism
had failed to register
the dangers of sailing
into uncharted waters –
the necessity of navigational
resources, and a life jacket,
the knowledge to stay afloat
and safe, in a sea where
discernment saves hearts.
(Washed Ashore first appeared here July 2018. Image my own)
As night falls, the sun
serenades my soul –
Beauty wraps my heart
in somnolent ecstacy
paints my mood
with shades of love
reality out of focus –
imagination floats, full sail
into a dreamy mist,
delightful course,
a symphony of hues
coaxing welcome slumber.
Was moonstone,
the year I travelled
Crossed the ocean
landed in a shared
caravan in Wales
Tongue tripping
over place names
thought echoing
over green, mountainous
expanses – heart mending
with each panoramic
view of Lake Bala.
(Tuesdays, I borrow from Twitter @Vjknutson. Image my own.)
Travelled East
in search of self
Half-family extended
unexpected warmth
Was my identity here
with stranger-brothers?
I contemplated pausing
surrendering to other
But that was sleep-walking
The distance still remains
Journey has no end
till soul has purpose
and wisdom relieves
the wounded child.
(Still Travelling first appeared here July 2020. Edited for this version. Image my own)
Flowers greet the rain –
face up appreciation –
nourishment’s glow.
(Appreciation first appeared on One Woman’s Quest II, July 2020. Image my own)
One Woman's Quest 