Category: culture

Unwanted

Like a wanted woman,
I hide in public places

One step ahead of recognition,
ignoring friendly gestures,
leaving confusion in my wake

I’m tired of this game,
the pretence – long only
to turn myself in

tear away the mask
and announce
my presence

but I’m afraid –
could lose it all –
career, reputation

all for a crime I did not commit.

Oh wait…I already did –
just like a wanted woman…

(Image from personal collection.  My images, some with poetry are now available through Society6.  I’d love it if you’d check us out and leave feedback.)

Invisible Forces

What ideology is this –
the feminine clothed in conservatism,
carting creatures whose nature is wild –
are we to believe women, too, are tractable,
or that girls should aspire to control
their beastly selves, become pets
for mass consumerism?

Glances say it all –
the inability to face the authors
of this myth – subdued by shame,
powerlessness, or conditioned politeness –
do not be fooled; there is more to this story –
it may be invisible, we may all pretend
it does not exist, or downplay its significance –
but one day, rage will have its say.

(Written for the dVerse pub, hosted tonight by Merril, with the theme: invisible.  My poem is a reaction to the featured image, offered up as a prompt by Willow Poetry for her weekly challenge:  What Do You See?)

Water Tales (2)

Lead the children to the waters’ edge,
let spirits that dwell there enchant,
sun glistening on star-filled eyes…..

teach the essence of dolphin breathing,
the presence of manna, how to question
roots and behold miracles of fish that fly

and colours that shimmer below the surface,
and sons that walk on water – there are stories
to be told by tides, whose rhythmic waves

follow a primal chant; the ocean’s whispers
reminders that survival is a game for the living
and that in death all return to its vast depths.

(Water Tales first appeared here in January 2017.  I am submitting it here for dVerse’s Open Link Night hosted by Grace.  I am also linking up with my weekly challenge: stillness.)

Lighting Call

Winter defines this stage,
this page, night descending
too early for my taste.

If I catch a falling star,
can I shed the excess
layers of this confinement

Follow animal impulses
to a sunnier clime, restore
exuberance of noble youth?

Passion persists, intelligence
in tact, just need a brighter
angle from which to reveal it.

(Lillian is hosting dVerse poetics tonight with the prompt: shed.  I am also linking up to Willow Poetry’s “What Do You See?” challenge: photo prompt; and Ragtag Community: angle; as well as Fandango’s: noble.)

 

The Need is Real

This lazy rhetoric, setting off
touchy egos, is akin to high school
nonsense – immobilizing progress.

Intimacy with the issues requires
scheduled and thorough investigation,
or we cycle back over the hotspots.

Stress as mistress, shadows
what is appropriate, belies
the underlying pain and need.

We need modern-day heroes,
bent on re-righting history,
to bring focus and intelligence

Find lasting answers, lift society
out of its deluge and create a communal
bonding that embraces rather than shuns.

(Image from personal collection.)

Gains and Losses

The mistress, meticulously groomed
glows a sun-kissed bronze shimmery
invitation, promising seductive
sensations of pleasure and release.

The husband, tense, overworked,
emotionally overwrought
heeds the call like a sailor
following the lure of sirens.

The flirtation begins in innocence,
he sips from her splendour at a party,
tastes her bittersweetness and
feels himself losing all control.

She is a master, a pupeteer
mesmerizing him with her smooth,
easy ways – lulling him into compliance
and alone; for private indulgence.

The wife, tired, lies awake
the empty space beside her
echoing the hollow place within-
she no longer holds his desire.

Spent and reeking from his illicit encounter,
the husband stumbles into bed,
reassuringly reaching for his wife in the dark.
Unresponsive, she feigns sleep.

They’ll not speak of it tomorrow-
awake and re-engage in the routine they call life.
Not tonight, he’ll tell himself,
Not tonight, she’ll hope.

The mistress sits smugly in waiting,
a never ending supply of liquid gold,
bottled with a promise – subliminally
conditioned to bring personal gain.

(Gains and Losses first appeared here in December of 2014.  As a child of alcoholism, the Christmas season is always a reminder of the pain.   Some gains are just not worth the cost.  If you or someone you love has a problem with addiction, please make it a resolution to seek help.  There is so much more to life.)

Of Flow and Fear

A river of people move
motivated by preservation,
hands tightly grasping hands,
a prayer for union in the midst
of unfathomable hardship –
they sacrifice for a promise
of safety, a chance to ensure
a productive life, hope.

Politicians stand on the banks
Casting stone-words, clouding
the surface of intent, distorting
agendas, interpretations –
ripples of fear collide, peak,
crescendo on the backs
of the river walkers.

Who will free the damn
that blocks the flow,
and who will lose their lives
when verbal flooding
turns to red tides?

(Originally written for Story Circle Network’s e-circle.  Submitted here for Ragtag Community’s prompt: ripple.)

HoHoHo, What?

A snowy-bearded man in
a uniform of red, says
HOHOHO
sets our wheels spinning –
suddenly behavior counts,
and calories don’t, and mistletoe –
well you know…

Does not anyone else find it odd that
a marketing construct is our ambassador
for good cheer?

(A quadrille written for dVerse where the focus is on cheer.  Also linking up to Ragtag Community’s : uniform.  No Santa Clauses were harmed in the making of this poem, nor does the author claim to be totally humbug.  Artwork is an original.  Cheers all!)