In every moment
my life is a palindrome –
same backwards as forwards,
from cellar to attic and back –
searching for a centre point
so I can reset the track.
(Tuesdays I borrow from Twitter @Vjknutson. Image my own.)
In every moment
my life is a palindrome –
same backwards as forwards,
from cellar to attic and back –
searching for a centre point
so I can reset the track.
(Tuesdays I borrow from Twitter @Vjknutson. Image my own.)
We purchase boards
imagine roots –
dream bigger
ignore the dawning
The higher the fence,
we tell ourselves,
the better the privacy.
Work hard, earn big.
And the longing grows
it’s the heart that seeks roots
hungers for connection
love like sunshine
Would knock down walls
throw open the doors
bask in the expansiveness
of kindred moments shared.
(For Eugi’s Causerie Weekly prompt: sunshine. Image is my own – a common merganser basking in sunshine.)
Heart, craving expression
seeks the aid of paper –
A message with pizzaz
a testament to love
But my pen chokes
on the word itself
refuses the pronouncement
soul balking at the possibility
I toss the note…
…maybe next time.
(Tuesdays, I borrow from my Twitter account @Vjknutson. Image my own.)
She amassed children while
he pursued accolades
Family photos display
northern shorelines
tanned faces, white-toothed grins
parents not represented
Lost her childhood
at the bottom of a ravine
laid beaten and shattered
no one came to rescue her.
Guess that’s what drew her
the his light; money, she hoped
would not abandon her.
But muck tracks the same
and children need feeding
and absent a co-parent
she sleeps most days.
Offspring learn independence
a product of adults’ disarray
outlasting the fickleness of fame.
(For Reena’s Exploration Challenge: prompt is the last line of the poem. Image my own.)
Images stir beneath the surface
butt up against unyielding skin
doubts crust interior motives
I am restless, tormented
pray for an opening
a release…
…that creativity
will prevail, break
through stagnation.
(Tuesdays I borrow from my Twitter account: @Vjknutson. Image my own.)
Death invites me to dance
extends crooked hand
for crooked hand
takes the gentlemen’s lead
I know his moves –
have watched a time or two
even partnered a few
long, slow waltzes
But I prefer to tango
like the spice and thrill
of life’s lively step
bid him, politely, to move on.
(For Reena’s Exploration challenge: Antidotes to Fear of Death. Also linking up to Eugi’s Causerie Weekly prompt: dancing. Image my own)
He had lost everything of value to him. There was an empty canvas on the easel, his colors and tools. What would he paint? *
Eyes reddened from tears
he bears his soul, like a wolf
howls into the emptiness
No response
Life shrinks at the sight of him
wounded creatures fearing
his motivations, advances
Entrapped
Escape alludes – walls
structures of his fear
he is his own obstacle
Alone
He will find his bearing
claw his way through faithlessness
Solitude, after all, an ally to his breed.
(For Reena’s Exploration challenge: *quotation captioned. Image my own.)
Soldier through!
Father preached,
as if life is linear
and all falls behind.
I left the straight path
refuse to march
choose to circle dance
seek empowerment
in soft rhythms
Less stoicism
more love.
(Tuesdays I borrow from my Twitter account @Vjknutson. Image my own.)
Skies draw me –
the allure of wings
the inference of escape
Not afraid to dream –
imagination fully engaged
willingness set on go
Till darkness encroaches –
a black line blotting
periphery
Imperfection an ugly
critique – self flails
doubt becomes certainty
Wrench my perspective
away from the gloom
need to crop the image.
(Inspired by the promptings of Reena’s Exploration challenge:Â addiction or depression; and Bushboys: Last on card April 3.)
Creativity is a beast
hungers for expression
Ego set limitations
mocks imperfection
At best, I parody talent
nefarious my efforts
Still, I must
feed the beast.
(Image from personal collection.)