Could talk for lengths
about manifolds,
hydraulics – hands
stained with grease
And when I offered
carefully manicured
heart, spoke words
of togetherness
Silence engulfed him
ducking beneath hood
wrench twisting –
relationship vanished
(Image mine)
Category: relationships
Tender Hearts Fall
Here’s a boy, tender
and raw, heart exposed
awkward innocence
blocking intention
Here’s a man, fiery
eyes, hands coarse,
face leather, smoky
words coaxing affection
Here’s a girl, book smart
heart uncertain, romance
a fluttery desire, caught
between the two, torn
The boy averts his eyes
fears she’ll see the raging
in his loins, read obsession
in his longing, reject him
The man takes her hand,
softly traces the outline
of her face, slow, seductive
draws her into his mystery
She is a two-headed lamb
ponders the breadth of
the boy’s shoulders, knows
his future is a srtaight line
Hormones raging at man’s
touch, the way his eyes
devour her, the magical
nuances in his voice
Two paths, she thinks
two diverging outcomes;
the boy holds himself erect
feels his fate is decided
The man lays his head
in her lap, thick waves
of black thrilling her –
a dead-end street
Is it pride that makes
the boy look away, she
wonders, or am I not
good enough, tainted?
She turns to the older
man, smiles, pull him
to her and surrenders,
darkness a familiar place.
(Decided to resurrect this old poem for Eugi’s Weekly Prompt: romance. Image my own.)
Not All Wins Are Monetary
Gambled late in life –
one more spin on love’s wheel –
we got lucky
You’ll need protection,
ego said,
and led me down paths
soaked with yesterday’s tears-
annoyances nipping at progress
But I am strong-willed
better than that,
I said, choosing to follow
a different route
The roulette wheel spins
and here I sit, alone
counting my wins
No amount of bargaining
can alter current misfortune
Pray my husband
finds his way back.
(Image my own)
Love Keeps Pace
Anfractuous connotes
splintered, yet you and I,
never broken, dance
a circuitous route
lost in personal reveries
interlocking threads
solid as the symbols
adorning ring fingers.
(Tuesdays, I borrow from Twitter @Vjknutson. Image my own.)
Parenting Lessons
For every child
vowed to be the calyx
to cradle each budding soul
with a tender heart
But I am imperfect
ideals devolving
in the face of loss
cross unbearable
Tend my own garden now
recognizing the power
of example overriding
oppression of control.
(Image my own)
Basement
Concrete is cold, imposing
does nothing for aesthetics
At least we’re protected,
I tell the littles, ignoring
Snot dripping, slime
oozing from unsealed
windowsills, cobwebs
and bits of shedding pink
It’s the best I can do:
four walls and a roof.
Except the ceiling
is bulging, mold and rot
certain to rain down on us
While upstairs, the man
ignores the leaks, luxuriates
in his abundance…Momma
Said marry a rich man,
you’ll be set for life,
but it’s dawning on me
there’s more to it than that.
(For Eugi’s Weekly prompt: dawning. Image mine)
This Is How It Happens
Cherubic and reeking
grief’s pallor heavy
he comes to me
Of course, he does
I am schooled in compassion
seldom flinch at raw pain
I attend to the wounds
listen; reassure
but I am weary
My own sorrow unattended
loss and betrayal an inner bleed
know I have only so much to give
But he is not alone,
there is another
a mere child…
Cherubic and reeking
grief’s pallor heavy
he comes to me
Of course he does
and I will sign on to stay…
schooled in the art of compassion.
(The stories that come to us in the dreamtime, often celebrate anniversaries. Years ago, I was in a cycle of abusive relationships, culminating with the one represented in the poem. We met on New Year’s Eve. My son, then early teens, remarked to me that I always chose relationships that asked a lot of me but seldom gave in return. While I laughed it off in the moment, his words remained with me, especially as this man also betrayed me with another. It was the turning point I needed to do some real soul-searching.)
Image my own.
Love In Aisle Nine
Lust ignores warning signals
fancies itself a savvy consumer
commits minor infractions with
confidence, sidestepping anxiety.
Loneliness, nearsighted, shops
without discernment, fails to
recognize that all life is transient
and patience is the key to harmony.
Love – the main attraction – is not
a lone chauffeur, nor a self-serving
commander, feeding off helplessly
dis-abled hearts bordering insanity
nor is it initiated by determination
a product of drive – brokenness
barreling through hurt’s congestion
misinterpreting openings. The path
to intimacy requires compliance,
obeys service, calms egos, a slow
non-consumer-based passage –
no bargains in the commitment dept.
(Love in Aisle Nine first appeared here in December, 2017. Image is my own.)
Mothers Have Regrets
Fancy myself pragmatic
but these cherubic faces
render me nostalgic
Not for the times –
for they were hard –
but for the ideal lost
Speculate on failings
shallow expectations,
pray I did enough.
(Found this old photograph of my two girls.)
On The Anniversary of His Death
No amount of empathy
could help me understand
the storm inside my father
Even in his death, thoughts
cloud my writing, his presence
preserved in prose…
(Even though it’s been fifteen years, my father’s essence remains strong – sometimes taunting, sometimes inspiring, always mysterious.)
One Woman's Quest 