life – Page 37 – One Woman's Quest

Life Chapters

Today’s NaPoWriMo challenge is to write a poem of lists, based on fictitious names. I always thought I could write a memoir, with each chapter being a play on the name of the streets I’ve lived on:

Dawn: Life Begins
Kings way: Patriarchy Established
Towering Heights: The Rise Before the Fall
Wake – Elle: Feminism is Born
Black Acres: The Dark Years
Berkshire: A Male Chauvinist Pig
Springbank: Hope
William: A New Ruler
Topping: The Final Straw
Wonderland: Like Alice
Beached Wood: Pregnancy
Hardsley: Still Pregnant
Highview: Scrambling for Perspective
Deck Her: Perspective is Obvious
Bricks n Ham: Hard Life
Baseline: A Bottom to Build From
Griffin: Chasing a Myth
Crestly: Climbing
Mark Us: Noteworthy
Iron Wood: Gaining
Boler: Hats Off to Progress

A Poem in Three Voices

Page three! Father would say
whenever she opened mouth
to speak – inevitable tale waiting

I just want you to hear me,
I remember feeling, to know
that my words have meaning

You get all your needs met;
it’s why I work so hard, now
don’t bother me, get along…

She learned to hold things in,
to refrain from long passages,
practiced needing no one.

Dear diary, why does everyone
hate me? What have I done,
and why do I feel so alone …?

You hide away in that room
of yours, ignoring your mother
and me; what’s wrong with you?

She shrugs, picks up her purse
and heads out the door, school
is almost finished, then freedom.

Left home today; so happy to be
away; hope my roommates like
me, hope I don’t ruin it for us.

Just called to see if you’re okay,
your mother and I worry; let
us know if you need anything…

But she’d stop needing long ago –
shut down in the formative years,
when rejection defined esteem.

(Today’s NaPoWriMo prompt is to write a poem in three voices.)

Plateaus

The quest for love
an uphill climb,
the footholds
loose and failing

Scrapes heal, and
hearts yearning
begin again, forget
the falls, aspire

Unconditional love
a dizzying height,
soulmates and
pre-destination

Goals for romantics,
by my heart reaches
for a memory, a return
to the beginning

When kisses warm
and embraces strong
conveyed desirability,
love’s reverence a peak

much steeper to attain
when age, in its folly
lusts after a youth’s game,
time a cruel intervener.

If I Was a Kitchen

If I was a kitchen, I’d want
an old-fashioned woman
at my counters, rolling dough,
canning pickles, chutney, jam,
homemade pasta sauce, and
every Sunday a roast. She’d
wear her sweat like a saint,
ignore her aching back, one
practiced hand feeding her
Carnation baby, while other
children flocked to Formica,
hot flesh sticking to vinyl,
as they picked at fresh made
sweet buns, the pot on the
stove perpetually simmering.

Or give me modern efficiency –
ninjas and presses, air fryers,
and induction cookers – let the
children belly up to the breakfast
bar, chomp on veggies and humus,
while Mom totes baby in a sling,
and preps her bone broth, strains
of Baby Einstein emitting from
a propped up iPad, while a cellphone
vibrates on granite and the Keurig
spits out one more Starbucks Pike.

Just don’t abandon me, piles
of unopened mail, or tossed
aside receipts company for
coffee rings on my counters.
Please don’t litter my surfaces
with rotting takeout containers,
or dishes caked with process
cheese residue, leave my
stainless steel sinks stained,
spoiled food reeking in the
refrigerator, traces of late night
mishaps curdling on the floor;
the absence of familial sounds
declaring my presence invalid.

(Originally posted on June, 2016)

Treasures

The warmth of the sun,
nature’s beauty to ponder,
the gift of a friend
to share in simple moments –
these are life’s treasures.

Nature’s Heart

If Nature had a human heart
how fickle she would be –
one day fiery, another ice,
so much based on jealousy.

If humans had Nature’s heart,
then instinct would be key –
to each their own understood
a master plan for harmony.

Up In Smoke

Should have known when
the first light passed
without a sound,
morning half gone
before consciousness
pried my eyelids open.

Should have known when
my Ninja pushed back
refused to blend
breakfast smoothie
forcing me to sip sludge
through straw

and when the line
on my browser
failed to budge
past the quarter mark
leaving me frustrated
I should have known then

but I ignored it all,
pushed beyond the signs
reached for that infallibility
gene (that never existed)
and almost set the house
on fire – element left on

and that’s when I knew
reflexes not kicking in
exhaustion claiming brain
emotions revved in overdrive
that today was not my day
and I should have stayed in bed.

The Journey So Far

From the North we travelled,
left just as autumn’s brilliance
retreated under the startling
white of winter’s cold breath

Drove through towns grayed
by overcast skies, witnessed
a reversal of seasons, return
of burnt oranges, rusted reds

until green gave over to desert
hues – chalky yellow hills with
dusty, low shrubs, burnt umbers
and muted violet prickly pears

Westward we drove, over wide
open spaces, followed rivers
into mountains, tracked birds,
wildlife, the mystery of saguaro

Encountered red rocks and black
mountains, the Colorado, and
further expanses of barren land
desolation betraying hard times

Continued on till highways widened
and the congestion of civilization
startled us out of our desert sedation
tossed us back into urban bustle

Then we turned north, headed back
to the mountains, now green, rolling,
promising milder temperatures and
the reassurance of flowing river beds

In time, we’ll turn eastward, set our
compass for home, knowing that
there will be disquiet, this lust for
wandering settling in old bones.

(The image is from my personal collection. To read more about our adventures on the road, visit me at One Woman’s Quest II.)

All I Need

All I need is a pair of pink boots,
the audacity to wear my hair
as if no one is looking,
the nonchalance to wear skirts
even on the days I plan to climb,
to adopt a no-limits, thumbs-up
attitude and smile triumphant
as if my world is a bubble
of contentment, needs met,
and no worries about
tomorrow – then I’d be
on top of the world.

Retreat

Immersed in the spiritual –
not yet fully present –
participating,
considering
new beginnings,
openings

so much easier
to go back to sleep
leave the living
to the younger
more energetic

generations
surpassing me
clued in to
technology,
modern nuances

yet, even they
slumber, lulled
by a confidence
I too once donned,
before immersing
myself in the spiritual.