If
I were
to write
every day
for one
hundred days,
would my soul
be purged of
this malaise;
is it a thing
to be dredged,
dragged up –
twisted
and tied
like tattered
bed sheets
knotted
together;
is there
a remedy
for this
scourge;
or is this
an inherent
restlessness,
a fiery blue
spark of eternal
angst igniting
passion – a call
to write?
(Originally posted February, 2017. Image my own)
(Photo collage mine)
(Image my own)
With each stanza
I strive for an upswing –
idle thoughts leading
to a crescendo…
But exhaustion plagues
my try, and fog colours
perspicacity, so my words
land low, goal in limbo
(Image my own)
Words, like crickets, leap inside my head –
chirping pests whose trajectory eludes
my dulled reflexes, scuttles about
the periphery of awareness.
Harmless in the singular,
a cacophony of multitudes
threaten any semblance
of sanity.
I strive to intuit their rhythm
define the notes in workable phrases
capture the message before
it all disappears again.
(Art my own)
Sentences refuse to form –
words, however, bear pairing
Punch-packed phrases
delicate unnervings
Fear grasps the wrist
stunts sentences –
thoughts staccato
emotions gagging
Poetry loosens the grip
bundles the mayhem
spits it out –
births breakthrough.
Anticipating owl’s hoot
dove’s coo startles me
I am plodding turtle
hard-shelled
searching for circles
in this squared-off existence
Dove offers a throaty laugh
then is gone before
my soft-bellied self
can beg deliverance.
(Art mine)
Give me a map
and I will trace the lines
of where I have been
A timeline
will communicate
my raison d’être
Report cards
demonstrate the depth
of my conformity
Lines on my face
a testament
to personal efforts
Good girls colour in the lines
and I am no different
waxing orange and green
Wishing to create contours
differentiate self
from the compliance
Essence is fluid
and lines flimsy
and substance seeks
exposure and celebration
And try as I might
the orange of my soul
bleeds into blank spaces
and green of my nature
reaches across divisions
and I shall not succumb
to prescribed limits
and I invite you to do the same
colour with me outside the lines.
(Art my own)
Nurturing sweetness –
a desire to maintain
childlike response
A barrier
to what lies within
darkness waiting
Funny, this present impulsivity –
am alone,
overweight,
a dreamer
Pretence overcomes stage fright –
a worthy role for any story
Not a glittery, Star-crusted version
but a well-worn edition
I am solid, ebony,
earthen –
value innate
Unknown depths
murky shadows –
A brokenness craving
perfection
Must surrender
to the catharsis of creativity –
Fear and protectiveness retreating,
helpless in the face
of the adventure that calls.
(My sketch with AI interpretation)
One Woman's Quest 