Euphoric, wrapped
in silent aftermath,
love’s vibration
still aglow
Push aside
the fear
the effort
it took
to get here
Bask in the moment –
tomorrow, I’ll cry.
Category: poetry
Woven Deceit
I trace the fibre
of each of your lies,
note the intricacy
of their overlapping –
marvel at the depths
of your scheming,
still suffering aftershock
of deception’s braid.
(Tuesdays I borrow from my Twitter poetry. Visit me @Vjknutson. Image from personal collection.)
Christmas Baking
Dates soften in the pan –
I stir with preoccupation
fresh-faced excitement
motivating each step.
I measure sugar, oats,
flour, the enormity
of my heart’s capacity
to love these young ones.
Add butter, and mix,
each stroke a hug,
anticipating enjoyment
a sweet connection.
Pat and bake, timer set,
bright eyes and tiny palms
lift upwards with sparkle –
Christmas cheer upon us.
(For Ragtag Community’s prompt: mix. Image from personal collection.)
Egg-Faced
A morsel of truth
and I am off
like White Rabbit
chasing meaning,
convinced that intellect
is just the tool I need
to decode the mystery –
bruises testament to
holes I’ve climbed out of.
Transformation
As light in darkness
transforms mundanity, so
too am I salvaged –
revelation turning back
the icy pallor of Winter.
(Tanka borrowed from a previous post on One Woman’s Quest II: Resetting the Dial. I have given the poem a title here. Image from personal collection.)
Growth Is Not Placid
Pastoral placid,
tonic for the soul – beware
stagnation, partake
in daring, honour spirit’s
longing for the wild; grow wings.
(For RonovanWrites Weekly Haiku Challenge: placid/wild; and for BrewNSpew’s prompt: partake. Image from personal collection.)
Weed Through
Fear finds its fortune in ignorance,
cashes in on hate – set the dial to love
weed through propaganda, decode
the depraved, aim to rise above
education and openness, mechanisms
leading to a lasting treasure.
(Image from personal collection.)
I Am Earth
I am Earth
Giver of life
aligned with elements
both protect and ravage
all bear scars
this is the process
I am Mother
womb and tomb
be thankful.
(Tuesdays, I borrow a poem from my Twitter account @Vjknutson. Photo from personal collection.)
Blowing Off The Dust
Flagrant this disregard,
this blatant indifference
I have come before you
broken and desperate
and been received with
loving compassion, openness.
“It was not I who abandoned you” –
the words still echo in my heart.
In shame, I hang head, vow
to prepare my spiritual bowl
to resurrect a prayerful practice
to know once again the light,
the life that fulfills when
self is offered up as instrument.
(Ragtag community has offered the word “flagrant” as prompt today. I have been carrying around scraps of ideas for Reena’s Exploration challenge – featured image. This poem emerged. I do not consider myself affiliated with a specific religious body, but I do consider myself a woman of deep spiritual faith.)
Separated Self
Reach for her
across the abyss
of indifference –
would hold her dear
comfort her sorrows –
empty promises,
I now understand
have abandoned her
countless times
in the name of obligation,
this child that is me.
One Woman's Quest 