aging · Humour · poetry · writing

Chagrin

Rehearse my role –
charm-school warmth
intellect engaged,
an air of mystique –

Tongue trips
brain backfires
a fool emerges
chagrinned again.

(Tuesday I borrow from Twitter @Vjknutson.  In this case, edited.  Image my own.)

aging · change · life · ME/ CFS · mental-health · poetry · writing

Rapture

Odd, this gift of solitude.  Perched canal side, I affirm my connection to the earth, and offer thanks. Late afternoon sun casts a glow on the foliage across the way, lighting up the mirror-still water.  Vibrant reflections.

Two winters ago, I fought to breathe as temperatures fell below zero.  Impassible walkways trapped me indoors.  Depression fought for possession. Hope struggles in imposed isolation.

“There are no absolutes in life,” a professor once told me, and I think of that now –
how just when it feels as if one sentence has been handed down, sealed, an opening appears.  I am fortunate, savour the moment.

Heron’s watchful stride
invites reflection, respect –

Winter’s solitude.

(Rapture first appeared here February 2019.  I offer an edited version here.

adversity · aging · creativity · life · poetry · writing

Resilience

Purpose –
much coveted
despair-driven –
has returned.

Energy –
motivation
to proceed –
building

Willingness –
once vibrant
now constrained –
resists.

Chasms –
loss created
unparalleled –
require bridges.

Purpose –
discovery born
enthusiastic –
persists.

(Resilience first appeared here in October, 2018.  I submit a slightly revised edition here for Ragtag Community’s daily prompt: resilience.)

aging · creativity · life · Love · nature · poetry · writing

I Grow Roses

I grow roses to remember
a beloved grandmother
the dreams of innocence
the blush of summer love

I grow roses to believe
that life has purpose
and time has no end
and love defies boundaries.

I grow roses to understand
that beauty and pain coexist
and life is about cycles
and simple things have great value.

(Linking up with Eugi’s Causerie, prompt: blush.  Image from personal collection.)

aging · disability · life · Love · mental-health · poetry · relationships · writing

Bystander

Dare I confess
the hollowness
of my heart

How emptiness
echoes in its chambers
How lost I feel inside

This is no sanctity
no secure refuge
my withdrawal is a sham

I stand by, observe –
circles entwine, embrace –
recognize the power of love

Practice the words
extend warmth
and retreat, before

connection ignites
convinced as I am
that the vacancy is merited.

(Image from personal collection.)