His cadence is shallow –
these are familiar waters
He’ll swear the addiction
saves him from madness
Ignore the wrenching
pain in my heart…
leave to find his next fix,
another page in misery’s tome.
(Tuesdays, I borrow from Twitter @Vjknutson.
Image my own)
I wake before dawn,
drive through blinding snowstorms,
if lost, alter course – without faltering –
even set out on foot when driving
becomes impossible, navigating
treacherous snow and ice, for you
So you can get where you need to be
So you can succeed
I risk it all for you
I keep you by my side
so that you will be safe
so that I can ensure your arrival
But, I grow weary, and my body
won’t go on, and all I ask for
is that we rest awhile,
so that I can catch my breath
And in that instance, you are gone –
no hesitation in your step, no looking back –
and when you finally stop to wait for me
it is too late…
A barrier has grown between us:
like an eight-foot, chain-link fence
separating me from protecting you
And you look at me with that glare
of exasperation that says:
“I should have done it on my own.”
Wait! Wait, I say.
This wall may seem insurmountable
but I can do it. I can do it; give me time.
I’ll just climb to the top.
It’ll be easy; you’ll see!
Don’t walk away! Give me one more chance
to prove my love. I do it all for you.
(Martyr’s Lament first appeared here in November, 2014.
This version is a rewrite. Image my own.)
Beneath icy stalactites
youth catches the first whiffs
of love…merges with a kiss
An icicle drops
startles the pair
their euphoria
broken – an omen?
Prelude to love’s
fickle nature…
How coldly lust
looks away…?
(Tuesdays, I borrow from Twitter @Vjknutson. Image my own)
Envisioning breakup –
past haunting possibility –
she navigates uncertainty
an angry dreamer
Tries to settle on truth
but with rage as filter
she processes and processes
reaching no solid ground
Love, she concludes,
is beyond availability
plans a solitary existence
until vulnerability caves again.
(for Eugi’s Weekly prompt: haunting, and Reena’s Xploration challenge: filter.
Image my own.)
How to circumnavigate
unexpected glaciers?
I am unnerved
thoughts spiralling
chasing faults
Have I been remiss?
Replay the scene
rewrite the script
till comprehension dawns
What lies beneath
frozen surface
is self-inflicted sorrow:
covetous desire aching
(Image my own)
She’s in the kitchen
cleaning, prepping
sweetness, wishes
to nurture childlike
longings – sugar laden
gifts, honeyed chops
hooks her men with
culinary preciseness –
as legend prescribes
wants a strong, reliable
type to stir her ovaries
keep her dishing up love
Disappointment, like raw egg
drips off china plates –
shame of misadventures
she cannot scrub away
only serves tea now –
the smell of liquor
mingled with cigarettes
in lecherous calloused
hands turns her stomach
avoids the coffee maker
in the same way, despises
the way the bitter brew
makes her head spin –
wits need to be in order
has settled now as hostess
caters to near strangers
whose attention, riveted
by television screens, are
lulled by the rhythmic
sounds of her sanitizing
while stew simmers in pot,
dreams of romance shelved.
(Originally titled “Hatched”, this poem first appeared here in July, 2017. I am submitting an edited version for Reena’s Xploration challenge: Stranger in a strange land. Image my own)
I am colouring you purple
for the sacredness of your being
for the majesty of your soul
I am colouring you purple
for the joy that you spread
for the laughter we share
I am colouring you purple
for purple best expresses
the depth of my love.
(For my granddaughters. Art my own.
Colouring you Purple previously appeared
on onewomansquest. com)
Dock sitting
past midnight
parental drone
humming in distance
Two silhouettes
haloed in moonlight
I lean in, heart pounding
your lips brush my forehead
Nothing more…
Nevermind! I blurt
scrambling to leave
rejection a soul tattoo
(Tuesdays, I borrow from Twitter @Vjknutson.
Image my own. Care to join me and write about your first kiss?
Drop me a link so I don’t miss it.)
This pedestal of responsibility
has elevated me, out of reach,
out of touch – lumps together
children, mate, mother, sister…
Caregiver extraordinaire
present overcrowded by
obligations…am unwell,
off topic, fed up, surely…
I am other abled, have room
for more – not martyr related –
hesitant to plan, my purpose
for being so intricately tuned
to the needs of others, should
quit while I’m ahead – silence
the inner nag – free us all
from this unhealthy game.
(This poem first appeared on One Woman’s Quest II
in September, 2016. Edited here. Image my own.)
Art of listening, best taught
by the family pooch –
ears attuned to nuances
carefully weeding through
human gibberish
for words that resonate –
treat, dinner, walk, cuddles…
Eyes inviting compassion
conveying depth beyond understanding
and when tone turns impatient
little paws retreat, as if words are blows
If only I could learn to listen
hear the workings of your mind
inquisitive, compelling – imagine
what I might learn….
(Best Listener first appeared here, August 2020. Image my own)
One Woman's Quest 