Idleness fills his hours
as if time knows no limits
I devour moments, afraid
tomorrow will forget me
We see-saw between
treacherous righteousness
and fusty avoidance
Ignoring balance –
the sensible response.
(Written in 2019, I chuckle that little has changed. Image my own)
Time hinders
ability,
dictates new
cautions…
It doesn’t mean
we give up;
we just store
possibility
in tucked away
spaces –
as reminders
(Reminders first appeared here August 2018. Image my own)
Found an old diary –
days when I prayed to the angels
painted myself white, believed
in a God that cared about personal
agendas – painted myself pathetic
Took me back to days of heartbreak,
when I pined after a man, unavailable,
painted myself pink – an altruistic heart
yearning after the unrequitable,
willing to sacrifice, change –
painted myself foolish
Read between the lines about a woman
so desperately co-dependent she’d risk it all,
painted herself yellow, projected sunshine,
believed in fairy tale endings, threw away
dignity, sanity – painted herself delusional
Wondered how she’d ever survive,
knew that life intervened in the end,
painted her broken –
and somehow she found strength,
moved on, made better choices,
learned to love herself,
painted herself indigo.
(Self Portrait in Colours first appeared here Aug/2016. Image my own)
Charcoal-etched dreams
smudged on the canvas of time…
Direction has been lacking,
understanding remiss
That I remain – sail upright –
is feat enough…
(Tuesdays I borrow from Twitter @Vjknutson. Sketch my own)
Bubble-wrapped memories –
days when travel was frequent,
wine poured freely,
fitness a given.
Even in those sun-soaked days
we were restless, unsatisfied…
not till health diminished
and money dried up
did we appreciate
the fragility
of those years.
(Tuesdays, I borrow from Twitter @Vjknutson. Image my own)
These bones, they say
will finish me – too brittle
to withstand the race
But I am Willow
recollection wispy
my dance defiant
Porous as a sea sponge
soaking up each day
mettle despite the rattle
(Tuesdays I borrow from Twitter @Vjknutson. Image my own.)
Unquenchable thirst –
drink from the fountain of wild
yet plain, I remain –
sixty years of repressed fire
shall not be easily quelled.
(Tuesdays, I borrow from Twitter. Image my own)
I am orange
fiery as
a sunset
bright as
an Autumn
leaf –
brilliant
in the waning
hours.
(Art my own)
Like Atlas, I bear
the world’s weight
call it responsibility –
a painful delusion
requiring walls
Life has its own rhythm –
light and dark,
joyous and sorrowful –
orchestration outside
of my domain
Love, however,
is limitless
in its capacity –
open-hearted acceptance
protection in itself.
Trading one focus
for another
permits appreciation –
I vow to assert love
and forgo control.
Absent solar motivation
I contemplate grey
for grey’s sake…
How despite the dullness
grey does offer a valid backdrop
for white’s delicate presence
(Tuesdays, I borrow from Twitter @Vjknutson. Image my own)
