life – Page 2 – One Woman's Quest

Relevance

She’s papering the walls
pondering former rooms
unmarked by her presence

Patterns alternate,
she thinks
then prays
will harmonize

She doesn’t need much –
a forever mantra —

a bed, a chair for reading…

Contentment, she tells herself,
the sufficiency of simplicity –

A side table, a lamp
a few drawers

A well-practiced diminishment
When did invisibility become her norm?

Sewing herself into the fabric of life
Always adapting to the flow

A stab of anger, or is it sorrow
These four walls her final stop

If she is to make a statement
raise her voice against conformity
the time is now

A slash of red, she decides
will rattle the monotony
render her relevant

At least this once.

(Sketch my own)

Is Optimism Enough?

“Are you happy?”

The question hits
my gut,
slingshots
down the hall
deadends
at optimism

“Of course,” I respond.

What else can I say…
Sure life needs tweaking…
I am learning to be better…
I can make this work…

Why? What do see?
Thoughts unspoken
but the bell has been rung…

(I wrote this poem in 2020, in response to a prompt. It was inspired by an encounter with an old flame, whose question caught me off guard. I was not, in fact, happy at the time – my then marriage about to crumble. The thing is, this event happened almost 30 years ago, and yet remains in my mind. Funny how the psyche holds onto things. Image my own.)

Neglect?

Was it neglect
that rendered us
so useless?
joints collapsing,
minds scattering
movement minimal…

That which we no longer tend to
loses lustre – less profit to reap

When we store our dreams in corners –
time usurping promises,
visions asleep –
the fallout is too steep

Cherishment is what is needed
for self, for hopes, for all life.

(Image my own)

Grains

There are shores that remain
ever-etched upon my heart –
emotional tides that tug
and carry me, currents
of past revelations –

I remember drowning
in the swells of loneliness
always the outsider, the grains
of this sentimentality
still shredding my adult soul.

(Borrowed from my former Twitter page. Image my own)

Finding Home: (Revisited)

Finding Home

Labour

Extract the miracle
from the celebrated

Each story is lifeless
until told – its patterns

Stubborn, are innate –
We all crave renewal

I crave renewal
arms extended
fists unfolded

Believe in will –
the power to breathe life
into inert corners

Does not life support us?
Is not consciousness infinite?
and the divine patient?

Yesterday, I gave up
resigned myself to failure
(It’s a joke I play on myself)

This soul labours to find meaning
and I will breathe life into form
until quitting time finds me cleansed.

(Art my own)

At The Edge (tanka)

Paddle to the edge –
life has falling off points, and
I am curious –
Defy fear and leap, or freeze?
Faith armours brave, takes a chance.

(Image mine)

The Way It Is (tanka)

At every turn
a challenge – prefer scenic
forays, encounter
rocky climes – ironic twists,
stretching this reluctant soul

(Image my own)

Sheltered

“If the doors of perception were cleansed every thing would appear to man as it is, Infinite. For man has closed himself up, till he sees all things thro’ narrow chinks of his cavern.” – William Blake

Weathered the would that frames this perception, 
once painted with optimism, long worn.
 
How bright the ideals of youth, now blurred, 
colours stripped, raw intention bared –

Life mocks these aged perspectives 
old structures fail, light dims with neglect

Still the heart beats solid, hope like putty 
sticking to the sills, solidifying half-truths.

How deluded am I, trapped within walls 
defined by out of focus panes, separated

From a reality that would behold me 
fragmented or whole, and who will ever know

Have not the wherewithal to strip back 
old mindsets, repaint the trimmings

Am content to dwell behind screens 
of my own making, distorted but secure.

(Image my own)

Winter’s Invite