We devour old times –
two clouded,
broken-eyed,
cat and dog –
fishing sacred out of
vast champagne night.
I may linger,
eat air,
an ocean –
that delicious thing –
fool to heal
this moist open throb
& it must work.
(My Friday muse is online magnetic poetry.)
Why do we strive for perfection
when it is the irregular,
the imperfect,
that makes life so interesting?
Thank you to all for sharing this past year with me, and wishing each of you the best for the New Year.
No path would blossom
if summers were about poetry –
a colder vine leaving me water.
Must let earth & animal
use this pure and wild air –
listen for dusk.
(I’m not running a weekly challenge, but I am inviting others to join me in playing Magnetic Poetry online. Â For details click here.)
Do come near,
sit under morning star
Your word has power,
as if a mutual mind
I light emotion –
a soft-eyed me –
and honour evening gift
fill her world
like felt on life.
(More magnetic poetry. Â Join in. Â I’d love to see your creations.)
Christmas morn blushing
with childlike fervour – outside
a chaste wonderland.
(Written for RonovanWrites Haiku Challenge: chaste / blush. Image from personal collection.)
Merry day all!
Morning, he perches,
resplendent in heron gray
Like a beacon, he watches,
sets a rhythm for my day.
Is he lonely, I wonder,
eyes silent and still?
Later, he’ll wade his slow,
mindful hunt, while I tarry
waterside, camera aimed.
We’ve grown accustomed
to sharing this quiet space
I, the more curious, but
surely he ponders me too.
Is he lonely, I wonder –
Are you? his presence asks.
(Inspired by the resident Great Blue Heron and the promptings of Ragtag Community – resplendent, and Fandango – formidable.)
Discontentment –
that restless inability
to surrender to distraction –
not easily masked
Wired, I am, for intrigue –
a dramatic actor displaying
mystery, baiting an audience
Denial dons noise-cancelling
headphones, blinders –
invested in illusions
Harmony the end-goal –
no point disguising,
discontentment ignored.
(Written for Sammi Cox’s Weekend Writing Challenge – mask, in 45 words, and Fandango’s –intrigue  -, and Ragtag Community’s – harmony .)
He recalls we were gorgeous,
pleased me like an egg – fast
Why lie to men about
what blow must skin cry?
We are black from mist above moan,
I bare my drive as pink,
sit through summer of aching,
show my gown sweet…
though never did sleep.
(Fridays are magnetic poetry. Â Find it online at magnetic poetry.com. Â Love it if you’d join me.)
No straight road,
no easy, out of the pod,
solutions – complexity,
it seems, reigns.
I travel circular paths
past ancient structures –
having erected statues
to past wounds – present
walls barely standing.
Unseen forces drive –
societal angst, Â perhaps –
know only that life
is possibility, and I
sorrowfully lag.
(Written for Twenty Four’s 50 Word Thursday, with help from the daily prompts of Fandango – easy, and Ragtag Community – pod. Â Image supplied by Deb Whittam of Twenty Four.)
Take a classroom of five-year-olds –
nimble-footed, names unintelligible –
add a dozen runny noses
and three boo-boos
and one unfortunate ‘accident’.
Introduce a teacher –
holiday hazed and overtired –
mix with a controversial curriculum,
a dash of micromanaging parents,
and splash of report cards due.
Blend cautiously,
taking care that all ingredients remain
in the bowl…er…classroom…
Bake for five days,
cool over the weekend.
(I taught Kindergarten for a day and still have nightmares about it, lol. Â To all the primary teachers out there – I am not worthy. Â You are amazing. Â Poem inspired by a recent dream, and written in the spirit of this week’s challenge: Â recipe. Challenge is open all week – would love it if you joined in.)
