Category: poetry

Suspended

What options for long term care?
Will life linger, abandon me, alone?

If unconditional love exists, then let
it talk to me, gesture desire, offer

support – safety only comes with sleep
despite this troubled unconsciousness;

oversensitive, naive perhaps, will make it,
if only I push outside the comfort of my bed.

suspicious of following, consuming, believe
that outsiders have forgotten me, worried –

security lies in the hands of loving, attentive
companion, otherwise; trying to trust life.

(Image: perfumeonherpassport.wordpress.com)

Portrait Of A Disability

Accessible living –
exercise of uncertainty –
parking lot nightmares,
doorway barricades,
shopping intolerable.

Separate sleeping
quarters – no access
to slumber; more mishaps
than a puppy; broken,
despicable, disconnected.

Inherently wise hover over
disclosure of disease,
claim proprietorship,
push acceptance of
causal theories.

We are innocents,
tender-hearted,
veil our hurt, refuse
to be driven down,
wholeness buried.

Employment Dance

Doors open –
build a career,
strive for a postion
with authority, discover
new possibility, relocate,
be unique, spontaneous;
conned by
administration,
lack of status verified,
excluded by internal
friendships, soulless
searching for
personal wealth.

Opportunity to earn –
engage business space –
have the big reveal,
believe boisterous
sales pitch, advertise
ineffectively, wait on
authority; bottomline –
not as previously thought
Who’s in charge?
Where’s the value?

Need to feel useful –
corporately accepted,
recognized, social needs
addressed, maybe visited
by a president; supported
by others, a someone –
a personal worker’s
heaven.
(image: www.bizepic.com)

Grandchildren Are Carrots

Motoring through duality,
straining, in the middle –
socialized, yet reticent –

My heart is overflowing,
like an unwatched sink
falling apart, too much

Driving, the past’s rain
blurring any joy; feel
dirty, taut, losing control

Harm vanishes, comes
back around; hosting
good intentions, rank;

Progression entirely
defined by vulnerability
smothering celebration

Towed along by sweetness
of children, dining on their
innocence banishes despair.

What Future?

Uplifted by invitations,
cherish the extended
kindness – crushed by
the inevitable no that
follows – limitations
a sad reality – energy
restricted to one or
two tasks, no more;
just thinking about it
exhausting enough.

What road lies ahead
for those of us cut down
too early – abandoned by
our bodies, left out of
life – while others veer
towards celebration,
vitality, shall we just
drift aimlessly, blood
and flesh dissolving
into the cosmic river
of being, imperceptible,
undefinable, forgotten?

(image: hdblackwallpaper.com)

No Show

Cooking challenges
are not for me –
inviting self-assured guests
to partake in my over-sized
oven-ready breasts –
show time!

Why should I
care about competition;
agree to act fancy,
ground myself down
with expectations?
I’d be afraid

my dependents
would run out from behind
my wings and topple
the repast before
it’s served up, along with
my reputation.

I have ample
bosom, but that doesn’t
mean I like to cook –
reservations are my specialty –
especially when fare tasters
speak Foodie

What kind of language
is that? Really?
I accept that I somehow
missed the gourmet gene,
that my home is not a
culniary castle;

would love to belong
to the fit and healthy
but renewal for me
is a place to lie my head,
having fun
horizontal.

(Image found on:  gameofdiapers.com)

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)