Avoidance, we
do it well – displace our
selves to warmer climes
choose a locale by the sea
anoint sunshine as our power,
and when the Ides of March arrive
our restlessness stirs once more
heat turns up and
we escape – renewed drive
leads to home’s door.
(Dark Side of the Moon offers a weekly cinquain challenge. Â This week is the Insane Cinquain – check link to learn more. Image from personal collection.)
Aging I am/Â but not without wisdom,
and disabled / and in more ways, not –
unreliability / the state of my body
trending / creativity
Escape is proposed / from this hindering attitude
my oozing scars / soothed with tenderness
beg a stand/ that revitalizes
discover determination/ I am evolving
This slumbering/ now awakening
has become impulsive/ suggests renewal;
need discipline / new boundaries
to quiet the pain / still, I thrive
I am whiny / pay it no attention
self-mothering / not selfish
counselling bedrest/ a healthy balance
prone to coddling/ this budding creativity
need to shake off/ revitalize
this disoriented/ clearing
weakened state – / altered strength
escape is proposed / certain.
(This week’s challenge is a wild card. Â The catch is to look back over recent postings and find the repetition, that becoming the prompt. Â I noticed a repetition of ‘age’ and recognize a need to revisit my attitude towards this inevitability, so I decided to select an old poem which illustrates the issue and readdress it. Â Left side of each line is the original poem: Proposal. Â Italicized endings are the new response. Image from personal collection.)
We voice love,
look off at better times –
eye on neighbour, comparing
I dance between hated father,
nice brother, grow quiet,
need touch, but never say
Were my heart strong,
spirit like a river come,
thanking universe…
Have joy though,
feel throughout.
(Friday is magnetic poetry day. Â Play online. )
Even as we let go
of that which no longer serves
our hearts grow wings.
*****
I am venturing into new territory,
and have established a virtual store front with Society6: Â KnutsonKreations.
I would love it if you’d check me out. Â Society6 is offering an Artist Promotion through to Thursday, February 21 at midnight – 25% off and free shipping worldwide using the link above.
Creating “poetry-to-go” has been a dream of mine. Â This is the beginning!
Winds here are unchained –
no fear of stagnation –
learning to tether myself
to uncertainty – relying
on instinct to pull through.
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.
Tides recede,
puddled remnants
of once oceanic flooding –
emotions overpowering –
threats now quelled.
I breathe,
lose myself in visions
of gold and promising greens,
yesterday’s heat a numbing haze
obscuring tomorrow’s obstacles.
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. Â All submitting to Ragtag Community’s, vital; Fandago’s, rebuke; and Manic Mondays 3 Way prompt, imperfection.)
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.)
Mother said: “Look after your sister!”
What she meant was:Â 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:Â I don’t have
the wherewithal to deal with my own
problems, so don’t bring me yours.
Sister said: Â “Be a good auntie!”
What she meant was:Â 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: Â 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:Â I am a real person
with needs and faults and limitations
and it’s about time I honour me.
One Woman's Quest 