Passion for writing ignites my soul's momentum
Illusory this ideation of separation
intricate the webs that bind us
Politicians focus on the holes
pander to the vacuous –
Seekers resonate with connection
consciousness raising awareness
Remain steadfast protestors
your vibrations wide-reaching.
(submitted for Reena’s Exploration challenge: prompt the featured image.)
These shackles may be but illusions
but the conditioning lingers –
I’m not enough
lack the look
the chic
fall short of acceptable
Add age and I am
forever sentenced
to monachopsis –
an outsider,
circling.
(Image mine)
I crave orange –
not the shade of deceit
oozing in political corners
I seek fiery tones
the hues of transformation
the promise beyond this cocoon.
(Image my own.)
Two mothers were we
frozen in disbelief
as smoke rose
Cried for the losses
for our children
for a future devoid
of peace
Two mothers
hand-in-hand
shattered
A Christian
and a Muslim
War destroys all dreams.
(Image my own.)
Brazen with whiteness
four toads
exerted presence
cuffed and killed a man
“I can’t breathe.”
On the front lawn
of America
stripped of empathy
the leader knelt
Not in prayer –
reverence burns his lips –
he knelt with authority
or his version, venomous
Three looked on
ignored pleas
gloated in the horror
of life’s final gasp
Humanity’s blood
now cold
unleashing a scream
a primal, reptilian rage
The offspring
of oppression
and hate
uncoiling
Like snakes
nest disturbed
rising against injustice
burning down the walls
As The Man weaves
his tale of dissonance
casting lines of division
few listen..
Black Lives Matter
drowns the rhetoric
the breakthrough is complete
we can no longer look away.
(For George Floyd and all the others murdered senselessly at the hands of those commissioned to protect. Submitted to Reena’s Exploration challenge: breakthrough. Image my own.)
Anticipate salvation –
the stork master
spews cryptic babble
Is there hope to be had?
Don’t speak forked-tongue
cannot decipher the yarn
Suspect time alone holds truth
experience will betray the lies
integrity winning out in the end.
(Image mine)
Inessential am I
ghost of a woman
burden avoidance
Imperfect am I
each flaw a step
towards deepening blue
And yet, I exist
purpose unknown
shadow dancing.
(Image: Self-portrait)
Ego fiercely defends
status quo, perceives
movement as predator
Soul craves peace,
provoked by the illusion
division the public glide
How do we manage
when progress, stripped bare
displaces understanding?
Alone, I cycle through
these observations
encounter jammed passages
Dismayed by deviancy
messages aimed to exploit
the vulnerable naked and blind.
(For Eugi’s Causerie weekly prompt: observation. Image my own.)
Behind the veil
of political maelstrom
lies a modicum of humanity
Or, is it humanity is belied
behind a maelstrom of lies,
politics always falling short?
Summer of ’67
British invasion
Canada claiming 100 –
Dad arrives home
in a powder puff
blue convertible.
Back seat sisters
long hair flapping
bellowing along
with 8-track tunes:
Loving Spoonful
“Do you believe in magic?”
I, barely nine
idolizing a sister
sixteen – a model
with go-go boots
and hippie style
Cottaged at Sauble
muscle cars prowling
oiled bodies lounging
and all eyes lit
on sister, and I
wondering at the draw
made castles in the sand.
Surfing the waves
avoiding the baby
whose brash cries
and quick, chubby legs
keep Mom distracted,
I am observer of the life
Neil Diamond is promising:
“Girl, you’ll be a woman soon.”
Ah, to be 9, in summertime
few the cares, and ideas
like popcorn, burst and pop,
forgotten in each watery plunge
still content to be a child.
(A Convertible Summer first appeared here in June of 2018. I submit this edited version for Eugi’s Causerie Weekly challenge: summer. Image my own.)
