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. Â Photo is part of the prompt.)
Victorious love –
even in loss holds merit,
spurs the growth of wings.
(For Ronovan Writes Haiku Challenge)
Creativity is a jungle –
unharnessed overgrowth
threatens the light –
chaotic madness ensuing
Genius enters the chaos –
culls the extraneous –
captures the message
and with elegance,
delivers.
(Written for Willow Poetry’s challenge: What Do You See? Image supplied by Hélène V.)
“If you smell juice,”
Mother said,
“Do, please put on shine,
and whisper at me –
am having beauty sleep,
rusting from the sun.”
Together, when days cool,
or there about,
life be that still.
(Another magnetic poetry poem. Â Play online.)
Children’s laughter echoes
through these halls, and
we light on last log against
the gathering chill –
our hearts aglow
with memories –
some cherished,
some testament
to a love destined to be.
I’ll turn back the bed sheets,
while you check the doors,
and we’ll hold each other
beneath the covers
and talk of tomorrow
until sleep carries us
into enchanted dreams…
Except…I told you ‘no’
that day you asked me
to be yours – too shrouded
by shame to let you in –
and the ‘no’ hung between
us, heavy as brocade,
and though our love –
too bright to dim –
continued,
we remained apart –
and now and again,
you slip into my dreams
and we fall back into that easy
rhythm – as if this was our life
all along.
(My weekly challenge is un-lived lives.  Still time to join in.)
Thrum-thrum-thrum –
I awaken with a start –
heart pounding,
intense heat stifling –
flames shooting
ceiling high form
a ring around my bed,
as if dancing –
I am frozen, mute.
Is this death?
Distorted faces
leer through fiery curls –
like ancient tribal masks –
menacing, angry
the distinct sound of voices
penetrates the fire’s roar
and too frightened to respond,
I succumb to unconsciousness.
A hallucination, the doctor deduces –
an adolescent’s overactive imagination…
till, child no more, I gather
with other women,
and a drum –
thrum-thrum-thrum
and darkness pulls me back –
to the centre of the ring –
flames, and faces, and voices
only now, I am no longer afraid –
release my soul to the dance.
(Written for the dVerse pub where Victoria is hosting with the prompt: fire.)
I alternate between vigorous activity and coma-like crash. Â It’s the nature of this disease. Â No middle ground, it seems. Â Or maybe that’s just the nature of this personality.
We celebrated Christmas early this year.  A Saturday afternoon gathering, and I cooked.  First time in four years.  I felt a certain sense of pride till the last guests left and I turned to face the aftermath.  Now, just  two days later, I am packing up the household and preparing for a four-month excursion.  I think I’ve defined a new breed of crazy:  waiting for a spurt of energy and then frenetically doing until I hit the next wall.
Winter pelts windows,
stirs frenzied need to escape –
waiting for recharge.
(Imelda is hosting in the dVerse pub tonight with the prompt: waiting. Â Coincidentally, waiting is also the prompt for Manic Monday’s 3 way challenge. Â I have also received inspiration from Ragtag Community: Â vigorous, and Fandango: coma. Â Tomorrow is load up day and then we hit the road, so not sure how often I’ll be around until we get settled somewhere.)
When you were Eden,
that longest prairie night,
warm with verdant moss
on trunk, no soft cover,
river shine vivid –
Me, a bee,
would eat from a tree berry,
seed this animal nature,
stroll a watery song –
Soon they come at dawn,
give peace.
(Another poem courtesy of online magnetic poetry.)
The heart resides in fragmented nests,
each beat a rhythm of its own desire;
we search for wholeness between breaths,
haunted by longing – a secret fire –
a quest for knowledge to lift us higher.
(Written for dVerse pub, hosted by Grace who challenges us to write a quintain. Image from personal collection.)
Child,
delightful youth,
my heart’s jewel,
you are light-bearer,
hope for the future –
antics haphazard,
laughter contagious,
spreading joy,
sparking imagination –
I pray that your spirit
remains joyously vibrant,
that reality dawns gently –
does not spoil the radiance
of your glow.
(Written in honour of my granddaughters, for dVerse pub, where Lillian is hosting and a quadrille based on the prompt spoil is called for. Also linking up with Ragtag Community – jewel, Fandango’s- haphazard, and Manic Mondays 3 Way Prompt – heart. )
One Woman's Quest 