If only I could bloom a rhapsody,
gentles river song for sound…
will remember your promise –
respect another soul,
honour their life,
that between each beat
emotion felt, true music,
innocent but strong
thanking your lift,
favouring the gift –
seek its fill.
(Fridays are magnetic poetry. Â Play online. Featured image from personal collection. Â Design available on Redbubble, KnutsonKr8tions.)
Mosquitoes favour
river banks – hopefully hate
repellent, free me
to linger as dusk settles
catch that last flash of colour.
(For RonovanWrites Haiku Challenge: Â detest/ favour)
(Inspired by Ragtag Community’s prompt: sumptuous, and Fandango’s: common)
Begging, this story,
brimming over
bursting out
I suck in,
hesitate
ending preset
message elusive
crushed beneath
weight of subjectivity.
The gap widens –
the life I’d envisioned
washed away by current
reality – widening span.
I need a bridge –
expansive enough
to carry wishes,
to facilitate movement
of passing ideals,
allow for traffic flow.
Or a bridge to slow me down,
help me re-align, directing
me toward a new road,
encompassing change.
(Image from personal collection.)
Metal moans
and brake lines squeal
as rubber comes to a crawl –
tie-up on the highway.
Roadside wildflowers flourish,
attract birds and bees alike –
a butterfly floats by, nonchalant.
Tempers flare, impatience inches,
horns no deterrence for maddening halt.
Let me be the butterfly, I pray,
carefree in the midst of such fray.
Is this inherent restlessness,
a fiery blue spark
of eternal angst
igniting passion –
a call to write?
(Image from personal collection)
There is chaos inside –
of course, there is –
we did not emerge from the womb
fully enlightened…
I release the chaos
brush stroke by brush stroke
word by forming image,
unravel the mystery,
find new depths.
Imagine befriending genius –
accepting social awkwardness
embracing habitual quirks as
incubation for enlightenment.
If I could strip down, release
preconceived notions, agendas,
lie naked, exposed, in shallow
waters, intimately entwined,
unencumbered by sexuality
or gender protocols, I would
shake this sensual impotency –
become one with creativity.
As my father, wounded, I
am inhibited by my feminine,
opting for compliance over
strength, a conditioned identity.
His mystery extends, flawless
sculpting, archetypal secrets,
pretense proclaiming normalcy,
usurping vitality, genius stifled.
(Submitted in response to Reena’s Exploration Challenge #78. Â Click the link to see the quotation prompt. Â Imagining Genius first appeared here in Feb. 2016. Image from personal collection.)
One Woman's Quest 