I didn’t steal the moon!
The tone is lackadaisical
but the sky incision bears
an uncanny resemblance
to her handiwork – even
stitches, gossamer threads-
the sorceress has gone too far.
(A whimsical poem borrowed
from Twitter @Vjknutson.
Art my own)
Category: creativity
Open To Healing
Open to healing –
create a space for inspiration
delve into the subconscious
Enter with pure intentions
ignore limited capabilities –
no offerings are meager –
Embrace new starts
with faith in ability –
be spurred into action
Self holds the answers
creative expression is key –
no expertise required.
(Open to Healing first appeared here in August, 2015.
Edited for this post. Art my own)
Strategy
Acts of vandalism
are not deserved
Grime of violation
does not wash off
If change is target
then create intrigue
Highlight inequity
demonstrate alternatives
Crash and burn
ineffective as hell.
(Tuesdays, I borrow from Twitter @Vjknutson.
Image my own.)
Labour Pains
Pain circumvents our fears
squeezes relentlessly
Still we proceed
withholding complaint
for this is labour –
a trial that harnesses
depth of determination
unfathomable focus
Somewhere along the process
an instantaneous shift
there is wonder to behold
and indescribable bliss
Birth is happening
and they’ll be no going back.
(Art mine)
Magical Portal
Alternate realities
parallell linear mindset
Ego-less forays into
magical mysteries –
answers secondary
Float in ecstatic
ethereal landscapes
kaleidoscopic hues
Behold irrationality
a mad whirlwind of oneness
convening in momentary flash
The portal’s open
step aboard –
ensure your ticket
is round trip.
(For Eugi’s Weekly prompt: magic.
This is a rewrite of a poem formerly titled: Meet You At The Station.
Art my own.)
Mermaid Dreams
Descending
into the mythical
entranced
spurred by
severity of
current challenge
Call it fantasy
but attempting
movement is
destroying
my passage
I am pulling,
shattering
this barricade
of a life; blue
progressing:
ocean bound.
(Mermaid Dreams was originally written in December of 2016, two years bedridden. Only in the dreamtime was I whole and capable of overcoming. Dreams are one thing I can talk about for thirty minutes without preparation: my challenge this week. Image my own.)
Dreaming Oceans
Ingrained in me
this flight
eye on the future
the periphery
closing in.
Husband urges me
forward, but where
this road leads
I do not know
Connected to self
open, escaping into
the vast expanse
becoming fluid
alive, nurtured
I have been spit out
by life so often,
taught to be taut,
it’s hard to plunge,
let go of the past
and just swim.
(Submitting for my weekly challenge: peripheral. Image my own.)
To My Fellow Poets
Simple phrases
words like scented blossoms
capture my imagination
carry me
How is it,
dear poet,
that you sense my needs
write my revival
(Image my own)
Orange
I am orange
in a monotone clime
radiant against
a melancholic backdrop
a poem within
a droning monologue.
(Tuesdays I borrow from Twitter @Vjknutson. Art my own.)
Reflecting and Rebuilding
Considering
refurbishing
childhood home
Unrecognizable now
numerous makeovers
and even re-purposing
But my heart is invested
and well, I can see potential
and, oh…I know it will take work
All the walls I’ve torn down
and the excess furniture
and how I’ve imagined duplicity
Is this folly on my part
this revisionist thinking
see…I’m sure there is treasure
hidden amongst the forgotten
buried perhaps in the attic
or other overlooked nook
And as I remember it,
the backyard is an oasis –
Yes! I think I’ll do it!
Reflection and a good dose
of elbow grease, and I’m in!
Recreating an upbringing.
(for Eugi’s Weekly Prompt: reflection. Image my own.)
