Category: relationships

Absence

Slippers, perched at night stand,
twitching impatiently,
mark the absence of feet,
cannot appreciate the meaning
of unruffled bed covers.

Abandoned, a coffee mug
bemoans its curdling contents,
complains of thick brown lines
contaminating its porcelain shine,
has not noted absence of hands.

Chair, pushed back from desk,
in partial rotation, sits awkwardly,
commanding attention, disturbed
by its misalignment, has not thought
to ponder absence of body.

House, uncomfortable with silence
creaks unnaturally, loudly voicing
objections to the absence of footfalls,
automated machinery and incessant
rings, beeps, and chimes of technology.

I try to reassure them that the absence
is only temporary, that the man whose
presence so strikingly fills this space
will return,  hope they cannot read
the apprehension in my tremulous heart.

(Gina is hosting at dVerse Pub tonight and challenges us to consider the magic in ordinary things.  When my husband had a heart attack a few years back,  I noticed how everything took on new meaning while he was gone.  It inspired this poem.)

The Un-Lived Marriage

Children’s laughter echoes
through these halls, and
we light on last log against
the gathering chill –
our hearts aglow
with memories –
some cherished,
some testament
to a love destined to be.

I’ll turn back the bed sheets,
while you check the doors,
and we’ll hold each other
beneath the covers
and talk of tomorrow
until sleep carries us
into enchanted dreams…

Except…I told you ‘no’
that day you asked me
to be yours – too shrouded
by shame to let you in –
and the ‘no’ hung between
us, heavy as brocade,
and though our love –
too bright to dim –
continued,
we remained apart –

and now and again,
you slip into my dreams
and we fall back into that easy
rhythm – as if this was our life
all along.

(My weekly challenge is un-lived lives.  Still time to join in.)

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A Feathered Fable

Statuesque as a Great Blue Heron,
she wades silently, patiently,
her long-necked beauty,
and generous wingspan,
testament to a tender soul.

She dreams of a mate
who can unfold her,
carry her to new heights.

Rustling in a nearby bush,
she encounters a partridge –
shorter than her, and
rotund, his countenance grey.

She is drawn to the candour
of his misery, how vilely
he has been misplaced –
his wife and nest robbed by
another, more showy beast.

Pity masks itself as kinship
and as love does, she dons
blinders, ignores the fact that
he prefers ground dwelling,
tells herself she will adapt
to his packs, learn his ways

Once dreamt of a mate
who could unfold her,
carry her to new heights.

Her shoulders slump, and
she draws her neck in now,
wings forgetting how to soar –
she is diminishing in the
confines of a single field

while her Partridge mate,
remains a partridge –
only fatter.

(Written for dVerse pub, hosted by Björn tonight, who challenges us to use metaphor. I might have got carried away…oh, well, excuse me while I flock off.)

Epic Love

She, deadly beautiful,
innocent as Ophelia

He, toxic ash –
turmoil and fury

Together, love soared,
then, like a tempest

Twisted out of control,
sanity sliding, fate

so cruel, as to be
legendary, epic

Like any other teenage
Shakespearean love story.

(Written for the generous prompts of Manic Mondays 3 Way, deadly; Ragtag Community’s slide; Fandago’s, toxic; and Daily Addictions, soar. Image provided by Laura at All the Shoes I Wear.)

Distance

Even in togetherness there is distance.

I am alone –
a central figure, distracted,
aiming for contact,
unable to eviscerate control,
repeatedly producing a singular confusion.

Define success…
Is it the one on top,
the know-it-all,
or are these the machinations
of estrangement?

I am unable to discern –
stability never more than a dalliance.

The pavement ahead whispers
promises of belonging –
can I tolerate the quest?

Unfulfilled, I am defensive,
fear off-shoots of depression,
shield tender inner places…

Bring on change;
others watch – look to me
as an example.

I can do this, on their behalf.

Never alone.

Always distances to cross.

(V.J.’s Weekly Challenge is distance. Also submitting this for Open Link Night at dVerse.)

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Genetics

I search for father
in this pain, recall
limbs wrapped,
liniment-lathered,
how he cried out
relief beyond reach

judged his suffering
as emotional –
a karmic penalty
for a life of tyranny –
compassion lapsed.

Now, I fight with legs
that will not settle,
arms that ache to bone,
moments inconsolable
spiralling into moodiness

seems I misunderstood –
overlooked the possibility
of genetics – pain compounded
by the guilt of impotence

curse my failure
to express sympathy,
offer comfort – the habit
of retracting into defensiveness
enacted till his death –

softness not a component
of the barriers that stood
between us…