Quiescent, the river
that flows through me
nudged on by a sea
I cannot touch
I am bud resisting
the bloom, reluctant.
If this life is spoiler
for what lies beyond,
then leave me,
dormant…
(Tuesdays, I borrow from Twitter @Vjknutson. Image my own)
Quiescent, the river
that flows through me
nudged on by a sea
I cannot touch
I am bud resisting
the bloom, reluctant.
If this life is spoiler
for what lies beyond,
then leave me,
dormant…
(Tuesdays, I borrow from Twitter @Vjknutson. Image my own)
Where do the words go
when they slip through the cracks
of my mental filing system?
And where is recognition
when words reappear,
no longer categorized
or referenced –
out of alphabetical order –
not even an inkling of recall
as if our acquaintance
is akin to discovery?
(Mental-pause first appeared here January, 2018. This version edited.
Image my own.)
Robin is absent
Winter’s silence
inviting retreat
Children embrace
snow-filled adventures
while I evade spills
Window watching
fluctuations, waiting
for the harbinger’s return.
(Tuesdays, I borrow from Twitter @Vjknutson. Image my own)
Calm, the morning air,
mind lost in reflection,
mirror-still waters
Raise my eyes skyward,
pray for release, an end
to Mother’s suffering.
Nothing. Death
has its own rhythm –
emotions mud.
(I wrote this poem a year ago, when my Mother was in and out of hospital with heart failure and pneumonia. Now, a year later, she continues to struggle. “We live too long,” she says. “Pray for my release.” Photo: Mom at 94, courtesy of my son.)
Sky gallery –
anything but banal –
recalls innocence
Geese attempt
an instinctual dance
(few will actually migrate)
Cheers this aging mind,
also prone to redundant acts –
sexagenarian fun.
(Tuesdays, I borrow from Twitter @Vjknutson. Image my own)
Leave the door open…
surely this foray
into docile distraction
will pass…
Sun is promising
a re-emergence,
stirs an inclination
I may find purpose, yet…
harness these sultry thoughts
and venture out that door….
(Image my own)
Freezing drizzle
and aching joints
elevate doubt
We are forging
into unknowns,
claiming change
His motivation
drive for both –
I quiet objections
Faith, I have in him
Trust, I have in process,
Hope as my beacon
Many a storm
has passed our way –
the choice is easy
Stay and rot
or risk and thrive –
hand in hand, we leap.
(Four years ago, Ric and I sold our house and all our possessions and headed south in a motor home.  Both of us had experienced life-altering medical crises, and the alternative – staying put and waiting for the next health challenge – was not appealing, so we took the leap. After two years, we returned and settled in a small community not far from family. Health continues to be an issue, but armed with the memories of our travels, we face each day grateful for our choices.)
Image my own.
The woman currently abiding
within this costumed realm
is merely a lethargic version
of the once vital but oppressed
Miss, whose identification
was stolen by means of
unsolicited adversity.
The focus of this recanting
is to invite a perspective
that not only restores, but
aids in the teaching of other
shadow-selves, that to reassert
original nature is more than fair.
(A quirky rant for Reena’s Xploration challenge: a stolen identity ; and Eugi’s weekly prompt: shadows. Art my own)
Winter defines this stage,
this page, night descending
too early for my taste
If I catch a falling star,
can I shed the excess
layers of this confinement
Follow animal impulses
to a sunnier clime, restore
exuberance of noble youth?
Passion persists, intelligence
intact, just need a brighter
angle from which to reveal it.
(Lighting Call first appeared here January, 2019.
Linking up with Reena’s Xploration challenge: light. I
mage my own.)
Forgive the dance –
it’s what I do –
step forward,
slide back,
shuffle, then
lose the rhythm
and start again.
Reaching forward
heart securely tucked,
something embedded –
cellular perhaps –
invites the struggle
and so, I dance –
yesterday, a warrior
today the fool
tomorrow only knows
multi-faceted,
roughly cut,
a gem
of an undefined hue
I will always try again.
(Poem first appeared on One Woman’s Quest II, entitled “Forgive The Dance”, October, 2019. Image my own.)