These words illusion
portray vibrancy of life
belie the mundane
wicked exhaustion my truth
drudgery daily routine.
(For Ronovan Writes Weekly Haiku Challenge: wicked/ mundane; and BrewNSpew’s prompt: illusion. Forgive me for indulging in a moment of self-pity. Post celebration crash normal. Image from personal collection.)
Unnerved by invitations –
isolation equates with security –
fear the onslaught of questions,
the unleashing of a torrent –
emotions flooding, crashing
through this gated illusion –
best to withdraw.
Withdraw my best
when gated by illusion
crashing, emotions flood –
need to tame this torrent
question the onslaught, brave
insecurity, negate isolation
embrace the invitations.
(Tuesdays, I borrow from my Twitter poems. Follow me @Vjknutson. The first stanza is the original poem. I left it here, then unsatisfied, decided to turn it upside down and create a new outcome. . Image from personal collection.)
Chill and fog
cloud my senses –
effective distraction
loneliness holds no sway.
Others speed past,
while I advance,
slow, steady –
drawn by an unknown
Presence, who may
or may not receive me well
at this road’s end
I cannot tell.
Pray indifference
does not await me –
have suffered enough
no stomach for more.
Must stop a moment
and rest…darkness
brings its own brand
of cold… I am weary.
Tomorrow,
I’ll begin anew,
perhaps not so alone,
But loved ones
are preoccupied
others long gone
So the task remains
mine singularly
to further this journey
With faith to carry me
and a prayer for clear
passage to see me through.
(Image from personal collection.)
But for the beating of heart –
a discordant rhythm –
I am obliterated by fog –
numbness of unanticipated loss
clouded by dreams misted over –
I await sun’s return….
Somber, this intrusion,
me immobilized –
fear mounting, fuming
common odours triggering
paranoia – fruits
of a prolific dreamer,
buried in withdrawal,
work in progress,
loose clutter,
getting nowhere
dead.
Invisible
marginalized –
components
of self
devalued
by marketing trends
still sentient enough to need:
acknowledgment
recognition
acceptance
respect
kindness
never overrated.
I have measured out my life with coffee spoons.”
Source: “The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock” by T.S. Eliot
I line my spoons on the counter –
measures of the day’s reserves
one spoon for morning tea
with a side of emails read
a shower requires two or three
with a guarantee of needed rest
I’ll linger horizontal – added care
when an outing is in the plans
the thrill of venturing, and delight
of conversation shared wipes
the counter clean – I’ll crash
and crave for one spoon more
enough to get me into bed
pray tomorrow’s count the same.
(For Reena’s Exploration challenge, in which she challenges us to use one of the given lines of poetry. Spooning is the term used for those of us with chronic illness who have limited energy. Myalgic Encephalomyelitis is characterized by exhaustion after exertions. My day starts with depleted energy, and I work from there.)
Morning light but a trickle
mind switches into gear,
body resisting response,
ambition thwarted by illness,
the usual game – pray this day
will embrace gently, and
bring a gift of healing.
(Image from personal collection.)
Pain no longer a threat
having found numbness –
semi-permanent vacation
from insistence of
chronic battles,
this unchosen life.
(Image from personal collection)
Letters jostle for position
back-up
attempt to regroup
get detoured
Frustration builds
and obstacles
pop-up –
cognition faltering
Circuits are jumbled
pathways rerouting
patience exploding
expression lost.
Word recall
out of order
Word recognition
under construction
Is there an exit
from this nightmare?
(Brain fog affects cognitive functioning. I first wrote this piece in 2015 and the condition continues today – one of the reasons I keep writing. I resubmit it here for Ragtag Community’s prompt: jumble. Image from personal collection.)
One Woman's Quest 