Category: aging

Unexpected

Expectations safely stowed
pursed alongside judgment,
I am bent on finding an outlet
for already disgruntled disposition.

Encounter inexperience
fumbling responsibility –
an overwhelmed innocent
lacking in accountability

I offer a suggestion,
to roll up my sleeves
and before I know it
compassion’s employed

This was not my intention –
I am ill-equipped for such
a commitment, surely
I am of no practical use.

Yet, here I am, engaged
expectations tossed
in favour of service –
please don’t judge.

 

 

 

 

Even Ghosts Yearn

Natural light preferable
to artificial – not the harsh
fullness of noonday sun
but softly filtered rays –
luxurious, inviting.

Love too, should be subdued,
gentle as a zephyr, not mythical
but yielding, mindful;
not worshipful nor boastful,
but comforting, warm

I am waning light,
the mistral wind wafting,
no longer a force of nature –
but smoke, spiralling,
vanishing into non-existence

And yet, even as shadows
spread, I yearn –
heart beating true,
not lost, not forgotten,
but withdrawn, humbled

passion mellowed
by toil of constructing walls –
grit and tar – scar’s long buried,
save the limping gait
of a ghost.

(Poem first appeared here July, 2018.  I am resubmitting for Ragtag Community’s prompt: humble.  Image from personal collection.)

Once a Mermaid

Impulse once drove my plunges –
glorious confidence propelling
fortuitous dives – unknown waters
an adventure to be conquered.

Even with onset of anxiety
I’d stalk shorelines, ignore
whispering of  catastrophe,
hold my breath and submerge.

Doubt would follow determination,
but buoyed by adversity, I’d swim,
force commanding adaptation –
I’d find my mermaid’s breath.

Motherhood introduced constraint
called forth sensibility and caution –
whimsy replacing practicality,
a shedding of iridescent tail.

I only dig in dirt now –
ground my offspring to earthly
forays, forbid capriciousness,
convince myself I’m solid.

Absentminded burrowing –
(corners of compulsion)
reveal abandoned passages –
old waterways exhumed.

Proclaimed pragmatism falters,
spontaneity takes hold, transforms
I am nymph again – free floating
Neptune’s daughter resuscitated.

(This poem, originally entitled Chasing Mermaids, first appeared in September, 2015.  It has been edited.  Image is my own.)

 

 

 

 

 

 

Losing Touch

Sure-footed
she navigates
forest floor

leaps over
obstacles,
scales inclines

knows each
nook and cranny
every sound
a greeting

but seasons pass
and time erodes
landscapes
and senses
lose sharpness

 

the nuances
of the woods
fading  memory

the wind’s whispers
elusive signals
inner nymph silenced.

(For Ragtag Community’s Daily Prompt: elusive.  Image from personal collection.)

Grandma To The Rescue

September is
chilly mornings
and classroom routines,
cardigans dragged home,
and the onset of colds.

Grandma packs her bag
with activities to distract,
a soup to boost bodies
and an apple crisp
fresh from the oven.

Some days
the best education
comes snuggled under
warm blankets with
inter-generational love.

(For Ragtag Communty’s daily prompt: crisp.  Grandma duty calls, be back later!)