Category: creativity

Let’s Be Honest

Wolf moon finds me
hungering – no
I am not a wolf
but I am starved
in this month of storms
snow blocking doors
temperatures dropping

Temperatures rising
flames of creativity
steaming panes
the season is wrought
belly-aching crave
I am wolf, howling
hoping the moon finds me.

(A bit of word play for Eugi’s Weekly prompt: Wolf moon. Image my own.)

Night Porter

Wee rowan lad
drums me into night
a fabled rhythm
conjuring mystical
oneiric encounters

There is freedom
in dreaming
slipping ego’s hold
soul taking flight

There is sorrow too
for when the drummer’s
song is done
morning must come.

(Tuesdays I borrow from Twitter @Vjknutson. Image my own.)

Soul Pulls

“What in your life is calling you, when all the noise is silenced,
the meetings adjourned…the lists laid aside,
and the wild iris blooms by itself in the dark forest…
what still pulls on your soul? “
– Rumi

I dwell in silence
meetings adjourned
list groceries

Former self faded
sorrowful shadow
definition slipped

I am the wild iris
pushing forward
in darkness, unseen

In contemplation
future doors heavy
snowy the path

If I follow light
I find promise
a verdant valley

I am guided
no destination
only presence

Physical constraints
merely distraction
I am the message

Light, shepherd
dreamer, woman
warrior, goddess

My soul pulls
invites passage
I am ready.

(Written in response to my weekly challenge – opening quotation. After meditating on Rumi’s words the image emerged and later this poem.)

Gnawing

I’m gnawing on possibility
the suggestion that my dabbling
could amount to something

What? my gut protests
reminds me of limitations
physical constraints

But I’ve had room to breathe
and resources at hand
and creativity, expansive

dwells in possibility
nibbles at suggestions
mind scrabbles to find

excuses – laundry,
a drawer that needs sorting
but the door has opened

and I’m seeing a path
a way through the noise
a sliver of light beckoning.

(For Ragtag’s daily prompt: gnaw. Image my own.)

In 2021, I Woke Up

This year the plague came
and I blamed the wind
for carrying destruction
and I blamed the sun
for its ineptitude
and the rain,
no friend of mine,
only served to drown
my expectations.

Lockdown
and social distance
masks and antiseptics
how was a soul
to survive?

Pushing 2020
out the door
certain relief
would follow
but change is not
a date on the calendar
a release of circumstance

I turned inward
faced the gloom
and found a spark
forgave the weather
the virus, the news

In 2021, I woke up…

(For Reena’s Exploration challenge: I woke up in 2021… Image my ow

Solitude (3)

Solitude.
I dream of
panoramic
silence –
breathtaking
boundless
sanctity.

Solitude.
Wrapped in separateness
cardboard walls fallen
curling corners of instability –
no refuge in stillness.

Solitude.
Smothering starkness
madness reverberating
canyons of aloneness
overbearing.

Solitude.
Persevere
regale moments
feathered encounters
faces on screens
tenderness
in voices.

Solitude.
Grace finds me
mercy lifts soul
possibility
opens the door
panoramic.

(This is a rewrite of an older poem, last appearing here in August, 2018. I submit it for Reena’s Exploration challenge #163. Please visit her post for a most inspiring video. Art my own.)

Talking To Myself

Tripping over guilt
how I need to make amends

Meanwhile, charity
leaves me vulnerable

Lose credibility,
momentum

No longer a pick up for others
ditched without a lifeline

***

These are but feelings
I’m more comfy couch
than utility vehicle
and credibility –
well that’s earned

Pick myself up
wade through vulnerability
grateful for giving hands
some amends best left
to the lessons gained
guilt not worth the trouble.

(Much of my poetry is derived from dreamwork. Dreams use exaggeration and humour to evoke understanding. In this poem, I am able to see both at play, leading me to the more empowering response. Thanks for reading. Image my own.)