Somewhere inside,
beneath the noise
of to do’s, or regrets,
buried so deep,
that I disbelieve
it exists, and yet…
there it is –
pulsating in sleep,
disrupting idle moments –
a hum, a breeze, a niggling,
as if I’ve trapped passion,
like a firefly, jarred it
in some inner cellar…
and still, it glows –
begs for the light of day,
a slit in consciousness
through which to escape –
inspiration demanding
expression.
Even as we let go
of that which no longer serves
our hearts grow wings.
*****
I am venturing into new territory,
and have established a virtual store front with Society6: KnutsonKreations.
I would love it if you’d check me out. Society6 is offering an Artist Promotion through to Thursday, February 21 at midnight – 25% off and free shipping worldwide using the link above.
Creating “poetry-to-go” has been a dream of mine. This is the beginning!
Why must I suffer acne still?
What trick of fate, whose wily will?
I am too far over the hill,
refuse to take a teenage pill,
must be this state of chronic ill.
(A funny ditty for Dark Side Of the Moon’s Whyquain challenge. I might have taken liberties with the form, but it was fun to write.)
How can we speak of desire when needs, unmet
ravage our sense of survival – we’ll regret
this wanton display – flames subside but hunger
remains – the body’s priorities reset.
Perhaps it’s the soul that stirs when you are near –
Spirit longing to overcome mundane fear –
as if the intertwining of flesh equates
with mortal release – quick come to me, my dear.
(Written for dVerse poetics, where we are examining poetic forms. This week, hosted by Frank, we are challenged to write a Rubaiyat. To find out more, click on the link.)
Moments like this,
possibility spreads out
like a vibrant valley –
limitations blurred –
A harmonic tapestry.
Winter –
the colour of my hair,
a sedentary state of being,
the numbing over of ambitions…
These are but illusions…
I am fluid,
essence flowing,
passion undaunted,
creating.
Creativity is a jungle –
unharnessed overgrowth
threatens the light –
chaotic madness ensuing
Genius enters the chaos –
culls the extraneous –
captures the message
and with elegance,
delivers.
(Written for Willow Poetry’s challenge: What Do You See? Image supplied by Hélène V.)
Thrum-thrum-thrum –
I awaken with a start –
heart pounding,
intense heat stifling –
flames shooting
ceiling high form
a ring around my bed,
as if dancing –
I am frozen, mute.
Is this death?
Distorted faces
leer through fiery curls –
like ancient tribal masks –
menacing, angry
the distinct sound of voices
penetrates the fire’s roar
and too frightened to respond,
I succumb to unconsciousness.
A hallucination, the doctor deduces –
an adolescent’s overactive imagination…
till, child no more, I gather
with other women,
and a drum –
thrum-thrum-thrum
and darkness pulls me back –
to the centre of the ring –
flames, and faces, and voices
only now, I am no longer afraid –
release my soul to the dance.
(Written for the dVerse pub where Victoria is hosting with the prompt: fire.)
Aim for the sublime –
defy mediocracy;
let passion hunger.
(For Ronovan Writes Haiku Challenge: hunger/strike; and Ragtag Community’s sublime)
This passion surfaces, rushes, boils inside me,
raging against the rocks of my conventionality,
demanding release, commanding my pen –
its voice a roar obstructing constraint –
insatiable creativity.
I should be back soon.
(Today’s prompt is to write a poetic prose in the form of a postcard.)
One Woman's Quest 