Category: creativity

Superwoman Has a Dark Side

Finely cut crystal –
silver and gold –
sparkle and entice.
A table fit for royalty.

Savoury aromas evoke visions
of sumptuous gravy,
delectable roast,
crisp-cooked vegetables,
and decadent desserts.

She’d stop to admire her handiwork,
but the children, hungry
and bored with the waiting,
tug at her hem.

Waiting.
It is her greatest strength.
Prepare, prepare,
then wait.

They’ll arrive shortly, noisily
full of their days,
fail to remark on the preparations

They’ll sit
be served
praise the deliciousness
gobble up seconds
push back their chairs
wander off
for a kip
or a smoke

and she’ll linger
picking at congealed gravy- covered mashed
unconsciously dabbing at a red wine stain
and marvel at how she accomplished it all
without bitching
without protesting
a trouper till the end

What’s that you say?
She’s sounding a bit like the martyr?

Oh no, you’ve found her out.
Superwoman has a dark side.

(This was originally penned a few years back, and I resubmitting it here, edited, for Twenty Four’s 50 word Thursday. Photo is courtesy of Deb Whittam as part of her prompt.)

A Feathered Fable

Statuesque as a Great Blue Heron,
she wades silently, patiently,
her long-necked beauty,
and generous wingspan,
testament to a tender soul.

She dreams of a mate
who can unfold her,
carry her to new heights.

Rustling in a nearby bush,
she encounters a partridge –
shorter than her, and
rotund, his countenance grey.

She is drawn to the candour
of his misery, how vilely
he has been misplaced –
his wife and nest robbed by
another, more showy beast.

Pity masks itself as kinship
and as love does, she dons
blinders, ignores the fact that
he prefers ground dwelling,
tells herself she will adapt
to his packs, learn his ways

Once dreamt of a mate
who could unfold her,
carry her to new heights.

Her shoulders slump, and
she draws her neck in now,
wings forgetting how to soar –
she is diminishing in the
confines of a single field

while her Partridge mate,
remains a partridge –
only fatter.

(Written for dVerse pub, hosted by Björn tonight, who challenges us to use metaphor. I might have got carried away…oh, well, excuse me while I flock off.)

I’ll Take a Slice

Wrap me a slice
of utopia – parcel
it carefully, maybe
double-wrapped.
Just glide it across
the counter, let me
tuck it in my coat,
glide out of here –
can barely repress
my excitement,
this thrill, must hurry
on home now –
find a quiet corner,
unwrap and inhale.

(Written for dVerse’s poetics with the focus on utopia.  A nod also to Fandango’s prompt, repress, Ragtag Community’s, parcel , and Daily Addictions, glide.)

Implications of a Wink

A wink?
Seriously?

Am I meant to smile
in conspiratorial culpability,

was that a Colgate
bright teeth,
complete with chime
wink, or…

a big bad wolf,
I’m coming to get you
later wink, or…

hand-in-cookie-jar,
you didn’t see this –

in which case,
I wink.

(Written for dVerse‘s quadrille night – a poem in 44 words – with the prompt, wink; and for Ragtag Community’s, chime.)

Filters

Age
masks the depth
and breadth of ability –
houses more than anticipated
room for expansion, however;
current state of disrepair –
walls buckling, wiring faulty,
and security systems failing –
compromises output.

Old
holds a certain charm,
character well-earned,
but it would be useful
to install a mechanism
for locking out the past –
perhaps the future too –
eliciting and validating
the fullness of present.

Happy Hallowe’en All

Night,
ghouls haunt,
heroes race,
pirates swagger –
slowed only by the weight of treasure
and oversized costumes warmly packed –
It’s Hallowe’en!
Kids delight
parents
sigh.

(Today’s prompts are: Fandango – weight, Ragtag Community – costume, and Daily Addictions – signal.)

 

Dreams Do Come True

Mermaids have the best of life,
she’d tell anyone who’d listen –
castles deep on ocean’s floor,
and watery skies that glisten

I’d give up all my earthly wealth
for a lifetime of Poseidon’s riches –
swap my legs for fins, if I could be
a royal princess among the fishes.

Once upon a moonbeam
her simple wish took hold
climbed up to the milky way
and watched the stars unfold

She wants to be immortal,
Night whispered to the Moon,
to live a fairytale existence,
without suffering or gloom.

The Great Orb nodded in consent
and turned her face upon the asker –
granted her gills, tiara and jewels,
then encapsulated her in plaster.

(Lillian is hosting at dVerse tonight and asks us to start a poem with “Once upon a…”.  I have to confess I had no luck starting that way, but I did put it in the middle.  I’m also linking up with Willow Poetry’s challenge: What Do You See?

Photo courtesy of Hélène from Willow Poetry.)

Pivotal Moment

Two babies, two cars, a mortgage, and depression I just couldn’t shake.  What was wrong with me, I wondered.  Was I missing something?  Is there more to life, I’m not seeing?  I prayed to the Heavens.

Six months, I dreamt of returning to my childhood home.  Every time, I remarked the same changes: the blue wall-to-wall carpet was replaced with red in the living and dining rooms, and geometric patterns running up the stairs; and one wall in my sister’s old bedroom was bricked.  Whereas we had a dog, the dream residents had a cat.  Always, I would exit through the back door, where I would fall and jolt awake.

One day, driving past the place, I noted an Open House sign and went in.  There was the red carpet, the designs on the stairs, and the bricked wall in my sister’s old room.
Shaken, I passed the cat in my haste to exit – out the front door.

Ask and be answered –
Source listened, and delivered –
a resounding “Yes!”

(Written for dVerse pub, hosted tonight by Merrill.  The challenge is to write a haibun on the topic of transition.  I am also linking this to my weekly challenge, where the prompt is veil.  Although I did not use the term in this piece, I felt as if a veil had been lifted.)