Avoidance, we
do it well – displace our
selves to warmer climes
choose a locale by the sea
anoint sunshine as our power,
and when the Ides of March arrive
our restlessness stirs once more
heat turns up and
we escape – renewed drive
leads to home’s door.
(Dark Side of the Moon offers a weekly cinquain challenge. Â This week is the Insane Cinquain – check link to learn more. Image from personal collection.)
Aging I am/Â but not without wisdom,
and disabled / and in more ways, not –
unreliability / the state of my body
trending / creativity
Escape is proposed / from this hindering attitude
my oozing scars / soothed with tenderness
beg a stand/ that revitalizes
discover determination/ I am evolving
This slumbering/ now awakening
has become impulsive/ suggests renewal;
need discipline / new boundaries
to quiet the pain / still, I thrive
I am whiny / pay it no attention
self-mothering / not selfish
counselling bedrest/ a healthy balance
prone to coddling/ this budding creativity
need to shake off/ revitalize
this disoriented/ clearing
weakened state – / altered strength
escape is proposed / certain.
(This week’s challenge is a wild card. Â The catch is to look back over recent postings and find the repetition, that becoming the prompt. Â I noticed a repetition of ‘age’ and recognize a need to revisit my attitude towards this inevitability, so I decided to select an old poem which illustrates the issue and readdress it. Â Left side of each line is the original poem: Proposal. Â Italicized endings are the new response. Image from personal collection.)
We voice love,
look off at better times –
eye on neighbour, comparing
I dance between hated father,
nice brother, grow quiet,
need touch, but never say
Were my heart strong,
spirit like a river come,
thanking universe…
Have joy though,
feel throughout.
(Friday is magnetic poetry day. Â Play online. )
Born brilliant,
and good looking,
he had me dancing,
fevered –
red cat woman,
I am porcelain,
prisoner,
cup fishing,
long to explore
dark words –
do not ask though –
sexy sailed –
ate godless
byes.
(It’s Magnetic Poetry Friday.)
Winds here are unchained –
no fear of stagnation –
learning to tether myself
to uncertainty – relying
on instinct to pull through.
Ancient song of Eden, our nature,
as above – light to watch for –
my summer, withering,
her insect breeze vined
would come there and have
harmony – beautifully fresh
in prairie lake,
air vivid.
(Fridays are for Magnetic Poetry. Â Play along online.)
What if days were berries
growing bright, whose sumptuous
juices blossomed only in Summer?
How sad it would be –
such limitations, disrespectful
of the creator to surmise
an inevitability of dormancy –
I will not believe it!
Our days are like seasons –
motivations and movement
fluctuating, weaving into
a tapestry of greater glory
There is no single season
of bloom – even berries resurrect.
Gnarly, these withered limbs,
this vessel more rigidity than flow,
winter upon me, a permanent clouding,
sunnier days passed – oh how vivid
the imagination when blue skies
met green grass, no hindrances
Old dreams hover, tethered to fences –
defences to camouflage vulnerability,
offences to keep my paths cleared
Find balance in isolation –
an old tree, past her prime –
Would cut loose this precarious
hold on all things fantastical,
but fear the act a harbinger –
So, I bide my days in this
frigid limbo, and hold on.
(Today’s poem is inspired by the image from Willow Poetry’s challenge: Â What Do You See? Â I am also linking up to dVerse’s pub night, where Sarah is hosting with the prompt: harbinger. Â Ragtag Community provided balance, and Fandango’s word is tree.)
Tides recede,
puddled remnants
of once oceanic flooding –
emotions overpowering –
threats now quelled.
I breathe,
lose myself in visions
of gold and promising greens,
yesterday’s heat a numbing haze
obscuring tomorrow’s obstacles.
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
in tact, just need a brighter
angle from which to reveal it.
(Lillian is hosting dVerse poetics tonight with the prompt: shed. Â I am also linking up to Willow Poetry’s “What Do You See?” challenge: photo prompt; and Ragtag Community: angle; as well as Fandango’s: noble.)
One Woman's Quest 