I am colouring you purple
for the sacredness of your being
for the majesty of your soul
I am colouring you purple
for the joy that you spread
for the laughter we share
I am colouring you purple
for purple best expresses
the depth of my love.
(For my granddaughters. Art my own.
Colouring you Purple previously appeared
on onewomansquest. com)
Dock sitting
past midnight
parental drone
humming in distance
Two silhouettes
haloed in moonlight
I lean in, heart pounding
your lips brush my forehead
Nothing more…
Nevermind! I blurt
scrambling to leave
rejection a soul tattoo
(Tuesdays, I borrow from Twitter @Vjknutson.
Image my own. Care to join me and write about your first kiss?
Drop me a link so I don’t miss it.)
Righteousness
speaks not of
Divine intent
Indigenous suffer
ungodly loss from
Christian hands
A Muslim community
mourns the brutality
of sanctimonious wrath
Hate is the invention
of mortal minds –
Divine love is a river
that flows for all.
(Tuesdays, I borrow from Twitter @Vjknutson. Image my own.)
Abandoned, this heart –
old walls scarred but solid
Lest you look upon me with pity,
remember – roses grow here
planted at the peak of love’s hold
vibrant despite the ensuing thorns.
(Tuesdays, I borrow from Twitter @Vjknutson.
Image my own.)
Art of listening, best taught
by the family pooch –
ears attuned to nuances
carefully weeding through
human gibberish
for words that resonate –
treat, dinner, walk, cuddles…
Eyes inviting compassion
conveying depth beyond understanding
and when tone turns impatient
little paws retreat, as if words are blows
If only I could learn to listen
hear the workings of your mind
inquisitive, compelling – imagine
what I might learn….
(Best Listener first appeared here, August 2020. Image my own)
Burn the love letters
watch as each quaint lie curls
sham interrupted –
betrayal’s intricacy
scatters amongst the embers.
(Image my own)
Petals:
I’ve counted them
pressed them
preserved them
Drops
of sentiment
prescient
pretenders
Trivial
pursuits of passion
gaming for love
childish ploys
Petals
fickle as the seasons
elusive as joy
too soon expended.
(For Eugi’s Weekly Prompt: petals. Image my own.)
Rings me every time
he’s in town –
Tumbleweed, I call him –
a man I love to hate
He tints my normalcy
with neon rushes,
flames of screaming lust –
I’m better of without him
wish he’d lose my number…
well…maybe after next time.
(Tuesdays, I borrow from Twitter @Vjknutson.
Image my own. Piece is purely fiction, I promise)
Beneath the willow
a young woman dreams
Harlequin romance
in hand – portrait of
stormy-eyed perfection
Innocence luxuriates
in spicy dreams, awaits
love’s sweeping encounter –
hormones not yet bearing
the bruises of disappointment.
(Tuesdays, I borrow from Twitter @Vjknutson. Image my own.)
“I’d like to get you know more,”
he said, pulling up a chair
met with stunned silence
“Truly,” he prodded, “I feel
as if we’ve drifted apart,
and I’ve ignored us.”
I might have said “No kidding”
but hope swelled with his words
and I blurted: “Ask away.”
So he listened,
as he had that first night
when tipsy and enamoured
We’d stumbled home
from the bar, and he
into my bed…and stayed
Seventeen years
three children
and five houses
and now he wanted to know
all about me – my interests
my dreams, my fears
And trout-like, I bit
spilled it all, still believed
in turning points and
riding off together
into the sunset, reunited
by undying love
It all showed up,
twisted of course,
in the court affidavit
material to defeat me
in divorce – discredit
my parenting capabilities
He didn’t succeed, still
wish we’d mingled more
you know – actual dates
before I’d committed
my life to this robotic
man, who never saw me.
(For Eugi’s Weekly Prompt: mingle. Image my own.)
One Woman's Quest 