Category: change

Age’s Rant

What if days were berries
growing bright, whose sumptuous
juices blossomed only in Summer?

How sad it would be –
such limitations, disrespectful
of the creator to surmise
an inevitability of dormancy –

I will not believe it!
Our days are like seasons –
motivations and movement
fluctuating, weaving into
a tapestry of greater glory

There is no single season
of bloom – even berries resurrect.
 

Darn Finances

Money –
that vital ingredient –
threatens to rebuke us,
these haphazard habits
equating to negligence.

Investments –
retirement’s foundation –
falter, then plunge,
a mini crisis hitting
too close to home.

Change –
prodded by re-evaluation –
commands control,
scoffs at ideal’s naiveté,
imperfection highlighted.

(Written for dVerse’s quadrille night, hosted by Whimsygizmo, whose prompt is change.  All submitting to Ragtag Community’s, vital; Fandago’s, rebuke; and Manic Mondays 3 Way prompt, imperfection.)

Ride Along With Me 2

Passenger, I am –
delegated to back seat –
input seldom asked for,
even less appreciated.

I ride along.

Passenger, I am –
at best can only speculate
about direction – limited
sight lines here in the back.

I am not driving.

Had a driver once,
motivated and self-assured –
could sit back and relax –
until his mistress climbed in.

Who invited her?

Driver #2 is handsome,
but lacks directions, so
no one is paying attention.

Others ride along too.

There’s a high school dropout,
who likes to pick his parents pockets,
and get boozed up on Friday nights.

How did he get here?

Ride along, if you wish, but be warned –
this vehicle is outdated, and likely unsafe –
we’ll just have to squish together.

They don’t make ‘em like this anymore.

Oh yeah, my crazy sister is aboard too,
Or maybe it is me, ‘cause I swear
I saw the ghost of another –
bent on haunting me along the way.

Probably a good thing I’m not driving.

Night is falling, and we stop for gas,
and the neon lights remind me –
if I’ m going to make a break,
it’d best be now.

Or, I could find a new driver.

What I put God at the wheel?
What if I said: God, give me direction?
Would I have to sit up straighter and pay attention?
Would the adulteress and the sloth have to leave?

Would my vehicle become a golden chariot,
powered by horses with wings of white?
And would we fly above the obstacles,
straight to the Promised Land?

Fantasy, unfortunately –
for now, I’ll remain back here,
until life restores vitality,
and my head is clear again.

Then I’ll park this old vehicle.

And get a new model with GPS.

(I’m revisiting old posts, editing, and re-introducing some of them.  Ride Along With Me  was written in November of 2014, six months after being bedridden with ME.  It was inspired by a dream, and understandably, represents a woman who has lost everything, trying to make sense of life.  I thought it is actually quite fun, and may have a wider application, so I resubmit it here.)

 

 

Talk

Mother said: “Look after your sister!”
What she meant was: Take these
burdens off my shoulders, I am
no longer able to cope.

Father said: “Do as I say, not as I do!”
What he meant was:  I don’t have
the wherewithal to deal with my own
problems, so don’t bring me yours.

Sister said:  “Be a good auntie!”
What she meant was: I am too
young to be a mother, and you are so
much more responsible, please take on
the consequences of my poor choices.

So I ran away to build my own life.
Met a man and married, bought a house,
had children and hopes and dreams
for a future that would erase the past.

Husband said: “If you really loved me
you’d try harder to lose weight, be less
effusive in public, control your temper,
and be more supportive of my choices.

What he meant was:  I’m going to grind
you so far into the ground and then I’m
going to cheat and cheat and you’ll have
nothing left inside to do anything about it.

And without a word, I left, and
what I meant was: I am a real person
with needs and faults and limitations
and it’s about time I honour me.

The Need is Real

This lazy rhetoric, setting off
touchy egos, is akin to high school
nonsense – immobilizing progress.

Intimacy with the issues requires
scheduled and thorough investigation,
or we cycle back over the hotspots.

Stress as mistress, shadows
what is appropriate, belies
the underlying pain and need.

We need modern-day heroes,
bent on re-righting history,
to bring focus and intelligence

Find lasting answers, lift society
out of its deluge and create a communal
bonding that embraces rather than shuns.

(Image from personal collection.)

Of Flow and Fear

A river of people move
motivated by preservation,
hands tightly grasping hands,
a prayer for union in the midst
of unfathomable hardship –
they sacrifice for a promise
of safety, a chance to ensure
a productive life, hope.

Politicians stand on the banks
Casting stone-words, clouding
the surface of intent, distorting
agendas, interpretations –
ripples of fear collide, peak,
crescendo on the backs
of the river walkers.

Who will free the damn
that blocks the flow,
and who will lose their lives
when verbal flooding
turns to red tides?

(Originally written for Story Circle Network’s e-circle.  Submitted here for Ragtag Community’s prompt: ripple.)

Letting Go is Complicated

This confined life –
carefully construed –

ingrains order,
commands discipline.

I can free myself
from urbanity,
declare adventure
as prerogative, but

how long before
I release the need
for control, unburden
internal restraints

let go, and open
to divine rhythms?

Doubt I possess
the trust required
to live with such
uncertainty.

(Submitted for Twenty Four’s 50 word Thursday.  Photo is part of the prompt.)

Filters

Age
masks the depth
and breadth of ability –
houses more than anticipated
room for expansion, however;
current state of disrepair –
walls buckling, wiring faulty,
and security systems failing –
compromises output.

Old
holds a certain charm,
character well-earned,
but it would be useful
to install a mechanism
for locking out the past –
perhaps the future too –
eliciting and validating
the fullness of present.