The woman currently abiding
within this costumed realm
is merely a lethargic version
of the once vital but oppressed
Miss, whose identification
was stolen by means of
unsolicited adversity.
The focus of this recanting
is to invite a perspective
that not only restores, but
aids in the teaching of other
shadow-selves, that to reassert
original nature is more than fair.
(A quirky rant for Reena’s Xploration challenge: a stolen identity ; and Eugi’s weekly prompt: shadows. Art my own)
I remember Jasper
how we drove up
in that bolt bucket
drank grape soda
from the dime store
listening to Dylan
How the mountains
echoed our loneliness
the answers we sought
turning us inside out –
I dream of it still.
(Tuesdays, I borrow from Twitter @Vjknutson
Art mine – an early attempt at watercolour)
Trade you an ‘n’
for a ‘v’, I said
to the moon
to the sun
to the bird
at my window
All obliged
and now
my lonely day
is lovely,
lovely,
lovely.
(Tuesdays, I borrow from Twitter @Vjknutson
Art my own.)
Words, like crickets
leap from my mind
chirping pests whose
trajectory eludes
dulled reflexes,
scuttling about
periphery of logic
Harmless, really,
in the singular –
cacophony of multitudes
threatening to multiply
take with them
semblance of sanity
Intuit a rhythm
I counsel self
to define the notes
in workable phrases
capture essence
and reason message
but the invaders
adverse to linearity
disappear beneath
the floorboards
of my conscious mind.
(Found this poem, languishing in my blog archives.
Edited, and with an updated title, thought it might
be worth a second look. Art my own.)
I like to wear garlic
when creating art –
keeps the demons
from taking part
Days I forget
perspective lost –
whirlwind of ink
quite deceptive
(Tuesdays, I borrow from Twitter @Vjknutson
Art my own)
I didn’t steal the moon!
The tone is lackadaisical
but the sky incision bears
an uncanny resemblance
to her handiwork – even
stitches, gossamer threads-
the sorceress has gone too far.
(A whimsical poem borrowed
from Twitter @Vjknutson.
Art my own)
Silent as the Great Blue
Autumn hues creep
shifting the landscape
altering my mood.
Do feathers quiver
at the ensuing chill
or is it merely human
this seasonal affect?
(Heron Reflection first appeared here August, 2019.
Image my own.)
I am colouring you purple
for the sacredness of your being
for the majesty of your soul
I am colouring you purple
for the joy that you spread
for the laughter we share
I am colouring you purple
for purple best expresses
the depth of my love.
(For my granddaughters. Art my own.
Colouring you Purple previously appeared
on onewomansquest. com)
Tectonic, the force
required to move
this wall of shame
Erasable, the missives
I write to defend my worth –
pencil strokes that only mock
Unsustainable, the hope
that life should ever receive
my efforts as more than folly.
(Art my own)
Open to healing –
create a space for inspiration
delve into the subconscious
Enter with pure intentions
ignore limited capabilities –
no offerings are meager –
Embrace new starts
with faith in ability –
be spurred into action
Self holds the answers
creative expression is key –
no expertise required.
(Open to Healing first appeared here in August, 2015.
Edited for this post. Art my own)
One Woman's Quest 