Urgency and age, well acquainted
Is it Celestine, this draw
or a fateful sense of lacking?
Time ticks a cringeworthy rhythm
insists I pay attention – Fine!
say I, lingering over a defiant tea
Passive is my denial
aggressive is the fear
Tomorrow, I tell myself.
( Tuesdays, I borrow from Twitter @Vjknutson. Image my own.)
If I measure progress
by “used-to’s”
illness and age win
I used to play tennis
speed and muscle
ease of ambition
This place, the nexus
of how life has changed,
teaches me appreciation
Frost in my veins
permanent, warmth
of memories aglow.
(Image my own.
Tuesdays, I borrow from Twitter @Vjknutson)
Curious by nature
drawn by hope
we push forward
spring ourselves
from mud-mired
traps of psychological
undoings
focus on a horizon
where sunrises
and sunsets
offer glimpses
of glory
optimist and pessimist
daring to believe
that the beckoning future
bears equal promise.
(Hopeful first appeared here May, 2108. Image my own.)
Raised in a battlefield
quantity doled out
in abuse, quality
not yet defined
Now I write myself
out of the darkness
each chapter
an uphill climb
Page by page
reconciliation
no shortage of words
value between lines.
(Image my own.)
Compare every love to first
unrequited – a poetess
obsessed – regret, longing
No wonder I lack roots
goodbyes stack up
like cardboard mannequins
There is no presence in yearning
I am automaton, disengaged
heart chained to fantasy.
(Image my own.)
Captivated by bridges
connection previously
assumed impossible
A grandchild’s love
the loyalty of a dog
the kinship of writers
I watch life pass by
flash on sorrow, till
bridges restore peace.
(Tuesdays I borrow from Twitter @Vjknutson. Image my own.)
Let’s chat!
Seldom an invitation
to friendly repartee
Voices will rise
foment latent resentment
Where’s the purpose in that?
I already bear the marks
of vile contempt, soul-etched
in permanent ink.
Let’s chat?
I’d rather not.
(Image my own.)
Do not apologize
the fault lies not with you
Love, while lauded for its cures,
is not always compensation
for a life of turmoil –
I know you loved her
Watched as you let your dreams slide
heart wringing with your own sorrow
There was just something about her
men lined up to grasp… to make her
What? Theirs? Happy?
It was not to be
she barely possessed herself…
Even in death, I reach for her
try to define the ruse
but her essence is elusive
No, you are not at fault…
for she was never really there.
(For Reena’s Xploration Challenge, prompt the featured image.)
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.)
Like living in the shadow
of a volcano, each complacency
shaken by treacherous rumbles
While some seek equality
others chew on bitter lack
and who profits when
tempers succumb to
the hot lava of anarchy?
(Tuesdays, I borrow from Twitter @Vjknutson. Image my own.)
One Woman's Quest 