What if we could proofread
our life – edit it in the moment –
patch over the rough spots –
change the dragon lady
into a polished princess?
Don’t know about you,
but I prefer fire to ice…
(Image mine.)
Category: life
What Is Important?
Unity seems an apt response
Yet we pillow fight, toss
sinewy threads of notions…
Is righteousness really
more important than peace?
(Tuesdays I borrow from Twitter @Vjknutson. Image my own.)
Still Travelling
Travel East
in search of self
Half family extends
unexpected warmth
Is my identity here
with stranger-brothers?
I contemplate pausing
surrendering to other
But this is sleep-walking
the distance still remains
Journey has no end
till soul has purpose
and wisdom relieves
the wounded child.
(Submitted for Eugi’s Causerie weekly prompt:identity. Image shows an old house with wrap around porch in monotone. From my personal collection.)
Surreal
Strains of “Desperado”
float through my mind
as images of the plague
assault me- this new life
too much, future unforeseeable
caught in a dystopian novel.
(Tuesdays I borrow from Twitter @Vjknutson. Image my own.)
Patient, Heart
Happiness worship
an unmonitored highway –
numinous moments
catalyst for earthbound soul –
church impulses, breathe spirit.
(Tuesdays I borrow from Twitter. This poem is in the form of tanka. Image my own.)
Reset, Please
We define our lives in acrostics
while nature audits the damage
We bemoan isolation
while Mother exhales
A sigh of hope –
all praying for reset.
(Tuesdays, I borrow from Twitter, @Vjknutson. Image my own.
The Show Must Go On
Waiting in the wings
absent an audience
what play will unfold
when the next curtain rises –
and who will hold centre stage?
(A tanka for Reena’s Exploration challenge in which she references Shakespeare’s: “All the world’s a stage….”. Image my own.)
Unapologetic
If they call you vermin
show them moxie
no explanation needed
Best path is paved
with honesty, avoid
potholes of popularity
Authentic self
travels further
without camouflage.
(Image from personal collection.)
Coming of Age
Green eyes captivate,
he whispers, warm hand
resting on youthful thigh
Stomach somersaults
reviled by whiskey breath
yellowed fingers clutching
Not these eyes! I stand
tossing my drink in his face;
coming of age moment.
Stuck in a Rut
In every moment
my life is a palindrome –
same backwards as forwards,
from cellar to attic and back –
searching for a centre point
so I can reset the track.
(Tuesdays I borrow from Twitter @Vjknutson. Image my own.)
One Woman's Quest 