Category: poetry

Dog Days

I’m the kind of hound that sniffs
out trouble; waddles through
roses to bury my nose
in excrement and roll in it.

Or is it that betrayal hounds me,
lures me with puppy dog eyes
tail wagging promises of loyalty
tricking my sentimental heart?

More like I’m the mutt begging
for scraps, ear scratching, or
belly rubbings, a canine whore
slutting for any attention.

Failure is a four-legged mangy
beast that caught my scent
long ago, trailed me, whining;
why did I agree to feed it?

No show dog here, just mixed
breed, scrap yard variety mongrel,
digging through the garbage heap
trying to find a dang old bone.

This Is Not Abandonment

I see it in their eyes –
the fear for my safety –
have not been able to paddle
my own boat for some time,
and here I am contemplating
going against the current,
taking a leap, seeking out
new sheltered places.

Survival is risky, they say –
risk is necessary if we’re ever
going to shake this malaise –
no explanation will appease them,
cannot understand the empowerment
that comes from discovering other realities –
promise to stay away from danger –
there are waterways, lands, mountains
to explore – this is not betrayal.

It is moving on, effective collaboration,
we will get along, disclose our differences,
have found willing transport, please
understand, children, we will work
this out, need to create a new reality –
one that allows for relaxation,
celebration – there is nothing left here
but a legacy of suffering, our absence
doesn’t mean our hearts are missing –
our love will be forever present.

(Image: artimagesfrom.com)

Self-Sabotage Perhaps?

 Proficient at goodbyes; specialize in endings;
excel at vacation relationships;
protest conformity –
can never see the value in how another does things –
pain in the neck; prefer to drive (although currently unable);
can cooperate, facilitate, bend my perspective
to fit in – graduate of the school of con –
am unfaithful to those ties that could propel me
forward; escape at every opportunity;
see predators in possible allies, view deficits
as insurmountable, take risks as long as
they don’t involve real change;
would remain underground,
if not so compelled to ignore limits;
the wear and tear on my body just blips
now navigating emotional waters,
looking to land.

(Image: soulhiker.com)

Unexpected Guest

An unexpected guest –
invited by a spouse –
sends a wife grasping,
stretching, unsettled
by sequence of events.

She has rattled around
this oversized ranch of
a house, treasured the
rapid upward mobility,
covered up insecurities,

believed their marriage
to be respectable, now
waking up to his secret
tries to calm anxiety by
downplaying interludes

outside the marital bed,
but upstairs the other
has claimed a presence,
her scheming husband
temporarily committed.

Does she keep the secret
or make it public; shatter
their privacy, tear children
from their father, or exist –
convince herself it’s not

real, is over with, sleep
in separate quarters,
hold onto the luxury,
live with what is, try
to keep heart in home?

She can’t handle it
anymore, hindsight
progressing, comfort
no longer valid, risks
losing children, too

weary minded to care,
wondering how she’d
missed the significance
of her husband bringing
home an uninvited guest.
(Image: divorcesupport.about.com)

Time to Re-Parent

Taking ownership of this mess
I call life, creates a priority of
care – a surrogate for the inner
sapling, not too motherly, just
accepting; to lead her past the
overpopulated vines of despair,
root out evil, restore the good –
a kindred spirit to ease her little
soul – no officious, insecure, put-
me-down parent, but dedicated,
motivational re-schooling, able
to fulfill needs, entertain, assist
in uncovering substance, insure
she has meaning to latch onto.

To help you find direction, Child,
I will tend to your needs, honour
the artistry of your growing mind –
a brilliance to nurture – encourage
flights of fancy: never fear pushing
boundaries of conventional thought  –
offer you strength of connection,
value your courage, prod hard work,
allow for wildness, questioning;
teach you not to quit before miracle
happens, demonstrate that life is
opportunity,  that character will be
tested, and that  comfort can be
found in the spiritual – deliverance
is possible – above all to know that
you are loved, nurtured, valued and
together, through it all, we will prevail.

(Image from private collection)

Weighted Down

Weighted down – I eat rocks
to anchor this restlessness –

unable to exit through any door,
trying to relocate self-assessment

to a sunnier place, contemplating
where I’d like to be; have checked

in, but no room is ready – shove it
all back underground – darkness

defining my horizons, my sister and I
meet here at the edge of denial, both

seeking calmer waters – she swims,
I crave a shower – we are haunted

in our sleep – shadows clouding our
dreams – projections of mermaid

possibilities, and electric blue skies;
I am gaining some ground, sifting

through basements, tossing old
ideals, cynically reminiscing, she

strokes through the debris of family
storms, ignores the rubbish polluting

her pool, maintains motion, while I
remain submerged, try to work out

a relationship with our father, long
since deceased, still present, find

solid ground – have opened the contents
of our stored horror, no choice but to carry

on, have been an actor in our staged
drama, no fame though to add acclaim,

only misguided endings, fragile audiences
and a sister who follows a different light.

(Image:  wallpapersblogspot.com)

Spontaneity vs Stagnation

Spontaneity craves opportunity,
ignores setback – will not wait,
prepare – is ready, it sweetness
a charm, luring and strangling.

Just rumours, this rage-tired hurt
calculating appearances, facade
ambition-not-happening deters all
hope of aid; organization could be

an opening – regulate responses,
indicate good things happening
in the wings, projecting warmth –
the fear is discovery, stepping out

from comfort – creativity is willing,
intelligence on board – vulnerability
pervades, adds to the conversation,
lacks wind – manipulation, criticism

all plot to dissuade – what peace is
there in exposing identity?  Persona
needs overhaul, sorry energy resists
change, only hope the assurance of

quick-witted bravado – preference is
to let someone else reign, continue
absence – force is needed to propel
this anxiety-heavy body, exuberance

would breathe life, crush self-serving
put downs, fear of disappointment,
and telltale self-image; ignore the
riotous ‘no’ and oust the narcissist.

(Image: mamiverse.com)

Worth is a Birthright

Do not grovel,
sweep floors, carry
out garbage, debase values
just for the attention
of another;

no more than
bear, grizzled and
battered, whose nature
defies formerly
coveted

notions of
romance; hoping
to find a modicum of
understanding
kind word

recognition.
Don’t be a captive,
a bride wannabe toting
leathers and chains
wild hairdo

waiting
on mainstream
betrothal, enduring love.
Do not kidnap,
imprison

reverse roles
blame, bully, cramp
obligations, compartmentalize
your hunger, lose
coherency.

Be free,
adopt a persona
of abundance, share fullness
of your gifts,
stay true.

(Image: dict.space.4goo.net)

Goddess Love

Father’s voice is booming
full of patronizing shame;
the child cowers in fright
turns the negativity inwards.

Learns to doubt, to loathe –
self and others – pulls away,
adapts pig-headed criticism
finds failure in every effort.

 Mother’s voice is soothing
encourages self-reliance,
acknowledges individuality,
invites discernment, assures

the child that smart doubts
are useful, and that owning
the wrath of another only
disables brilliance; coaxes

relaxation, counsels that
outcomes are not based
on judgments of others, but
the results of determination.

Patriarchy instills a sense
of disappointment, begets
a cycle of insecurity intent
only on sabotaging progress. 

Matriarchy has no agenda, no
use for disapproval, beholds
all life as sacred, exceptional:
to shine, the birthright of all.

 

 

 

Impotent Pursuit of Perfection

Watching a movie that I PVR’d –
hunkered down with popcorn and fizz,
hoping to get lost in the couch cushions –
when I remember that I might have homework
more specifically an assignment related to a show
already in progress, and I don’t know where I put
my backpack, and while searching frantically, suddenly
recall that I have more work due, and my boyfriend is
coming over in an hour, and I panic that I’ll never get
it all done, and then in a moment of clarity, realize
I am also taping the program in question, and sigh,
and take a breath: it’s doable if I stay up all night.

Riding in the backseat of a jacked up jeep –
the taste of freedom blowing through my hair –
when the driver hits a bump, catching me unaware,
sends my lack-of-seat-belted-ass into the air, and I
frantically grab the roll bar, praying to get my bottom
back in the seat before he hits another bump tossing
me out of the vehicle entirely, when I realize that we’ve
driven onto the field, the entire school filling the bleachers,
and if I lose my grip now, it won’t just be my body that will
be broken, but I run the risk of becoming the laughing stock
of the school: my entire reputation at stake from a joy ride.

This teenage angst is overwhelming me –
guidelines and deadlines – too much authority
and not enough free time – just want to break loose,
shake off responsibility, hang with my friends, be
foolish, and to hell with consequences, but my
A-obsessed sensibility and “good girl” persona
take charge, and there’s no slacking off, and
I’m locked in an eternal state of yet another
obligation to fulfill before I can rest, and in a
blink I am fifty-eight and a Grandmother, and
I still haven’t taken time to watch that movie
that I PVR’d or dared to joy ride without a hitch:
still tangled in the impotent pursuit of perfection.
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