Was it neglect
that rendered us
so useless?
joints collapsing,
minds scattering
movement minimal…
That which we no longer tend to
loses lustre – less profit to reap
When we store our dreams in corners –
time usurping promises,
visions asleep –
the fallout is too steep
Cherishment is what is needed
for self, for hopes, for all life.
(Image my own)
I miss your wisdom;
could use some about now,
confidence lacking
Life’s what you make of it,
you’d say, and
You’re doing a good job…
Truth is, I’ve made a lot of mistakes –
call it stubbornness or stupidity-
but I failed to plan, Dad
Not bemoaning life
It’s been really good
and I know you did the same
I’m just tired of doubting my self
Watching the rest of the world
reach their goals and then retire
While I can never tell –
am I doing a good job
am I even appreciated?
Remember the day my marriage died
and I came to you, crumpled
spewing anger, defeated…
And you cried with me
raging on my behalf, said:
Goddamn it, you deserve better than this!
Funny that through all the pain
your walls, my walls
you, alone could see me
Tragic how I only understand that now
death and years separating us –
my need for you still raw.
(Image my own – cut and paste with AI)
Extract the miracle
from the celebrated
Each story is lifeless
until told – its patterns
Stubborn, are innate –
We all crave renewal
I crave renewal
arms extended
fists unfolded
Believe in will –
the power to breathe life
into inert corners
Does not life support us?
Is not consciousness infinite?
and the divine patient?
Yesterday, I gave up
resigned myself to failure
(It’s a joke I play on myself)
This soul labours to find meaning
and I will breathe life into form
until quitting time finds me cleansed.
(Art my own)
At every turn
a challenge – prefer scenic
forays, encounter
rocky climes – ironic twists,
stretching this reluctant soul
(Image my own)
Wrapped in reptilian attire, change
climbs aboard my well-intentioned scheme
like a boa constrictor – disarming me
I am more inconvenienced than repulsed –
after all, snake is my power animal,
Or so the seer said…many years ago
Days when I would wear the scaly
comportment of power – invite
transformation- my essence a seeker
But I am trying to settle here –
embrace age and its complications
and yet the serpent persists
Sibilance insisting on co-navigation-
and what will be the outcome, I wonder
if I were to surrender to such a calling?
Change does not heed our fears,
our ego-driven agendas…
It bears its fangs and taunts
I exaggerate the threat, of course-
imagine being consumed or suffocated –
disregard the potential for healing
Have no time for reflection or pause –
the course is already set –
I hold on and feign control
(Art my own)
Essence is essence
and flat as I might feel
shadow reveals otherwise;
such is the mystery of life
Orange is my essence –
the promise of sunshine
and creativity, and… I envy
blue its expansiveness
Constrained as I am
by conformity –
this silver-framed
existence a settling
But shadows don’t settle
they stretch and bend
and exclaim rebellion
savagely defending essence.
(Slanted Orange was written in 2022 as a collaborative effort with a local photographer. The efforts of our poetry group are published in a book called the Minimalist Eye. Click here to see the whole collection as well as the photographs that inspired each poem. I’ve used my own art for this post.)
“If the doors of perception were cleansed every thing would appear to man as it is, Infinite. For man has closed himself up, till he sees all things thro’ narrow chinks of his cavern.” – William Blake
Weathered the would that frames this perception,
once painted with optimism, long worn.
How bright the ideals of youth, now blurred,
colours stripped, raw intention bared –
Life mocks these aged perspectives
old structures fail, light dims with neglect
Still the heart beats solid, hope like putty
sticking to the sills, solidifying half-truths.
How deluded am I, trapped within walls
defined by out of focus panes, separated
From a reality that would behold me
fragmented or whole, and who will ever know
Have not the wherewithal to strip back
old mindsets, repaint the trimmings
Am content to dwell behind screens
of my own making, distorted but secure.
(Image my own)
Maudlin convention
I balk at your constraints
jettison the traditions
that propagate hate
Future is an open road
I do not hesitate –
Yes, there is uncertainty
Yes, I’ll make mistakes
Vulnerability will conquer pride
mind willing, convention I’ll shake
(Art my own)
Squatters fill the corners
of my unused mind,
a constant clatter
detracting from intention
Incensed by the implication –
how others have used me –
how boundaries have no effect
I demand they leave…
Futility at its best
Then I hear the child cry
a tug on my undernourished heart
certain of her need unattended
I will take her in my arms
seek out accountability
find only neglect
and manipulation
Flatter myself that I, alone
can save her –
let the intrusion be
more fodder, I concede
for the pen…
(Image my own)
One Woman's Quest 