Kindness encourages stories
from those too reluctant to share
from youth full of inspiration
from musicians just developing
even from the discouraged
unaware their tale lacks worth.
Each one a record-keeper
harbouring intricate plot lines
uniquely brewed, the telling
a revelation – find a good ear,
or a patient pen, and express.
(Image from personal collection.)
Grandma!
the word wraps me
in bubbly warmth –
an invasion of limbs
impress upon my heart –
best mood-altering
prescription ever!
(Tuesdays I borrow from Twitter. Â Follow me @Vjknutson. Â Image from personal collection.)
We laid beneath the stars
our youth tingling, dared
to dream cosmic –
Thought I landed in love’s lap,
till summer waned and
you were gone, carried
by the wind, my heart
in your pocket.
(This poem appears in the VSS365 Anthology, untitled)
Somber, this intrusion,
me immobilized –
fear mounting, fuming
common odours triggering
paranoia – fruits
of a prolific dreamer,
buried in withdrawal,
work in progress,
loose clutter,
getting nowhere
dead.
Invisible
marginalized –
components
of self
devalued
by marketing trends
still sentient enough to need:
acknowledgment
recognition
acceptance
respect
kindness
never overrated.
Bent –
life’s tribulations weighty
do not confuse this folding
with weakness, I am
worn –
tested resilience
nourishes creativity
I am muse rich,
alive –
alone my story
an illustration,
my life art.
Divergent perspectives
reveal solemn truths
pieced together
snapshots
examine disconnect
individualism
promotes autonomy
only when in balance
with community.
(For Reena’s Exploration Challenge which features an interesting video: Â click here)
Pot-bellied,
am I:
misshapen by age
and gravity – more
rot than plump ripe pear –
still, a vessel for love –
grandmotherly
vase.
(Image from personal collection)
Brought you my pain –
swaddled like a baby,
a tiny fledgling
not yet ready to fly –
craved nurturing –
missed the hawkish glint,
the vicious drool –
all remnants of sanity
now shredded.
Late August nights cool
burnt dry hues
will soon transform –
symphony of colour
There is sorrow
in Summer’s end;
Autumn’s icy breath
Winter’s warning.
