The sky donned a mask today –
clouds contriving a hoax –
like a great, feathered beast
emerging from the heavens,
bearing down on me –
Silly, this trepidation, this
superstitious sentimentality –
both clouds and I know
this is only illusion – sun
still rules the skies…
(Willow Poetry poses the weekly challenge: Â What Do You See? Â based on the featured image.)
Memories are boats
anchored, idle,
awaiting calm –
quaint ideals
keep them docked,
undermine progress
never intended to harbour
so many secrets –
lack a personal compass
reliable enough
to navigate solo –
a necessary tactic
to release these boats
cluttering my
story’s shoreline.
(Written for dVerse, whose host Lillian challenges us to write a quadrille (44 words) around the theme: harbour. Â Hats off to the daily prompts from Ragtag Community: quaint, Fandango: personal, and Daily Addictions: solo. Image from personal collection.)
Slippery performed
and my eight-year-old
heart applauded
cheered when he escaped,
mourned the capture,
prayed for flight’s courage
but survival skills
eluded – was certain
I would starve, die
in a cave where
animals would gnaw
on my bones, and
family, unconcerned,
would sigh and say:
She’s just being Slippery.
(Slippery was the name of a sea lion who performed at a local’s children’s attraction in the 60’s. Â He escaped into the Thames River and was captured again. Â I can remember being torn between sorrow for him that he didn’t want to be there, and sorrow for us that he didn’t love us the way loved him.
It’s Open Link Night at dVerse, and I am also submitting this for 50 Word Thursday, Fandango’s: guess, and Ragtag Community’s prompt: slippery.)
Laid out, in a tapestry,
I suppose the overriding
message would be inconsistency –
a montage of seemingly unrelated
images, the blatant disconnection
offending to the eye, and yet…
closer inspection might reveal
a thread of commonality –
the presence of orange,
in its many incarnations,
woven into each tableau…
a hint of the woman whose
wanderlust has driven her
in so many directions
a passion, that like the sun
cannot contain its rays –
a willingness to embrace
the unknown, acceptant of
endings and beginnings.
I regard myself as inquisitor,
charged with assessing motivations
of crimes, turning over choices,
looking under rocks for disclosure
of weaknesses and fallacies,
questioning the what ifs and whys,
as if life could be rewritten –
the interrogator has no appreciation
for colour, does not allow credit
for tinges of orange, judges only
in terms of black and white…
lacks the empathy to behold wonder
in a life, that despite its incoherence,
depicts a tapestry of survival:
a testimony to the art
of a creative soul’s passage.
(Written originally as way of self-introduction for my writing circle, submitted here in response to Willow Poetry’s challenge: What do you See?)
Photo courtesy of Willow Poetry.
The Boondocks,
my sisters told me,
was not a desirable
place to be –
‘cool’ being the theme
of our generation –
the line between
what was ‘in’
and what was not,
seemed fragile
to my imagination,
mind climbing
to copious possibilities
constantly slammed
by uptight, in-the-know
older siblings
Is it any wonder
that I never belonged,
the line of inclusion
always just out of reach?
Grew fond of
tucked away
spaces –
isolation
Adapted to
the “boonies” –
more refuge
than exile.
(Poem is brought to you by the inspirational prompting of Ragtag Community (copious), Daily Addictions (theme), Fandango’s (fragile), and Manic Mondays 3 Way prompt (Boondocks).
Our roots are spreading,
the umbrella of our tree broadening –
Muslims now amongst our beloveds
a progression, nurtured by
a Divine plan – trees are meant
to branch – hearts’ capacity unlimited
an outcome that evolved – not because
of that day when the impact reverberated
across borders, dislodging fears – but despite it
Praise goes to youth, whose willingness
to embrace possibility beyond stereotypes,
beyond hatred, opened doors, enticed
this hometown gal, and a backward father
to set aside prejudice (ignorance, really), and invite
the light of love to transform darkened passages.
brave souls, willing to defy the legacy
of downed towers, the lies of politicians –
carving out a path for an enlightened future.
(Written for dVerse, who on the anniversary of 9/11 challenged us to go back to a previous poem penned on this date and write a new one, based on one line.  I revisited  Renovating the Psyche from 9/11/2016 and chose the line:  “roots spreading outwards, Muslims now amongst our beloveds.” )
Rain-drenched
roads kick up
blinding mist,
Eight hours –
construction,
accidents,
snarly traffic
ignoring
neon:
Adjust speed for weather
We arrive
at five –
multi-lanes
jammed –
Quick!
Wrong lane!
Merge right!
Weary commuters –
tourists
a rush-hour pain –
graciously acquiesce.
Welcome
to Ottawa.
(Inspired by today’s road trip and written for dVerse’s quadrille: quick, and Ragtag Community’s: grace)
Initials carved
on a tree
in the sand
silent cries
begging
witness?
Mortal eyes
only offer
indifference
Signals then,
to a sentient being,
nature-sourced
an ancient longing,
indefinable,
unquenchable
Tides erase,
time distorts –
no telling
what response
will be achieved –
a superstitious quest.
(Written for 50 word Thursday. Â Image compliments of Deb Whittam.)
One Woman's Quest 