Avoidance, we
do it well – displace our
selves to warmer climes
choose a locale by the sea
anoint sunshine as our power,
and when the Ides of March arrive
our restlessness stirs once more
heat turns up and
we escape – renewed drive
leads to home’s door.
(Dark Side of the Moon offers a weekly cinquain challenge. Â This week is the Insane Cinquain – check link to learn more. Image from personal collection.)
Unheralded,
an apparition
in white –
wings enveloping,
uplifting
soul cries,
voiceless,
powerless –
no pause
on perfection
she follows coastlines
while I travel roads,
fades from view
her shadow lingers,
wraps me in melancholy
one minute of rapture –
enough to make me mourn.
(Inspired by the sudden appearance of an egret while shooting this image. Â Submitted for Manic Mondays 3 Way Prompt: Â roads, and Reena’s Exploration challenge: Â one minute.)
Even weeds reach for the sky,
as if heaven holds a secret,
as if liberation lies in the stars
and the day’s passage into night
is a promise – I reach for the sky
with my prayers, with my wishes,
am no more enlightened than a weed.
What if days were berries
growing bright, whose sumptuous
juices blossomed only in Summer?
How sad it would be –
such limitations, disrespectful
of the creator to surmise
an inevitability of dormancy –
I will not believe it!
Our days are like seasons –
motivations and movement
fluctuating, weaving into
a tapestry of greater glory
There is no single season
of bloom – even berries resurrect.
Is life as brilliant as
one said it is?
We bleed colour,
eat pie with caramel,
go by oceans
laugh over their icy
melting hearts…
Would you don
corduroy, dance
wild, almost vast
therein, then ask
of me: is life brilliant?
(Fridays are Magnetic Poetry days. Â Won’t you join me?)
Tides recede,
puddled remnants
of once oceanic flooding –
emotions overpowering –
threats now quelled.
I breathe,
lose myself in visions
of gold and promising greens,
yesterday’s heat a numbing haze
obscuring tomorrow’s obstacles.
Proficient at constructing frames,
I plaster over old mistakes,
convinced that survival equates
with marble – am I not a living
example of metamorphosis?
Yet, my doorways lack locks
and there are intruders in
the basement – confidence
dissipates as rage heightens –
optimism evanescent.
(Penned for the prompts of Ragtag Community – marble; Fandango – plaster; and Manic Mondays Three Way Prompt – evanescent.)
I search for sustenance
with indifference –
have difficulty navigating
the aisles of available options.
Divorced from former dreams,
I hunger for renewed inspiration,
encounter only loss and confusion.
Goddess advises, and I,
ear-closed irritated,
hear only assertions
of inadequacy.
I exit possibility,
have lost the vessel
that once propelled me.
(Linking up to Reena’s Exploration Challenge #70)
Sun blazes before it falls,
slashes the day’s sky –
blue guarding against blaze.
Golden grasses absorb
the fire, brazen in their
clay-baked fields.
Branches blacken –
forlorn bristles –
stark against light.
I stand on the precipice,
day’s end beckoning,
taunting, my spirit alive
Will blaze before it falls,
lashing against the heavens
who dare to threaten darkness.
Money –
that vital ingredient –
threatens to rebuke us,
these haphazard habits
equating to negligence.
Investments –
retirement’s foundation –
falter, then plunge,
a mini crisis hitting
too close to home.
Change –
prodded by re-evaluation –
commands control,
scoffs at ideal’s naiveté,
imperfection highlighted.
(Written for dVerse’s quadrille night, hosted by Whimsygizmo, whose prompt is change. Â All submitting to Ragtag Community’s, vital; Fandago’s, rebuke; and Manic Mondays 3 Way prompt, imperfection.)
One Woman's Quest 