Passion for writing ignites my soul's momentum
Children moanreflect the day’s gloom We are virus-cautiousconfined indoors While ‘I-wannas’buzz at windowpanes and news feeds mountthe terror – I scream silently, pray foruncommon patience Pause as eagle,soaring overhead tips a wing my waybids me a good day. (Eugi’s Weekly Prompt is soaring. Image my own)
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I am woman questing… a warriorslashing bondsof painful past an aerialistbalancing strifewith fleeting bliss a she-reptileshedding distrustin vulnerability, growing I push throughthe tangled mazeof personas, seek a truth that frees my spiritand roots my essenceinto blessed being For I am womanwith a quest…striving on… (Art my own. I call her The Mother Tree)
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Tired of same old endingsin which hopes are slaughteredand tragedy and insanity win. Raised by the bottle, learnedto set standards low –still afraid of heights –have fallen as the groundbeneath my aspirations crumbled –a certainly under alcohol’s rule. Tired of same old endingsin which self is battered by indifferenceand ego loses the battle for control. […]
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Pain circumvents our fearssqueezes relentlessly Still we proceedwithholding complaint for this is labour –a trial that harnesses depth of determinationunfathomable focus Somewhere along the processan instantaneous shift there is wonder to beholdand indescribable bliss Birth is happeningand they’ll be no going back. (Art mine)
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Trapped inside two-dimensional torusbackward spinning Not even my pulseemits an echo – would needa third dimension for that Am geometrically disfigured,an illusion, I fear, for humansubstance seldom adds up. (Tuesdays, I borrow from Twitter @Vjknutson. Image my own,)
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I am gregariousinitiatorrisk-takereagerly anticipatingthe unknown But the subconsciousalights on old storiesgathers sanctimoniousrumours of unworthinessspits out shameand rage Reveals the truth –I am vulnerable. (Facing Truths first appeared here July ’19. This version is edited from original. Art my own.)
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Natural light preferable to artificial – not the harshfullness of noonday sunbut softly filtered rays –luxurious…inviting Love too, should be subdued,gentle as a zephyr –not mythical, but yielding…mindfulnot worshipful nor boastfulbut comforting…warm I am waning lightthe mistral wind waftingno longer a force of naturebut smoke, spirallingvanishing into non-existence And yet, even as shadows spreadI yearn […]
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Burrs of misadventure clingI am not beholden to them Progress, not always visiblerequires breathing room Tenderness heals woundspatience guiding movement One by one, I extract the hookssigh with each deliverance. (Image my own.)
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Beneath the willowa young woman dreamsHarlequin romancein hand – portrait ofstormy-eyed perfection Innocence luxuriatesin spicy dreams, awaitslove’s sweeping encounter –hormones not yet bearingthe bruises of disappointment. (Tuesdays, I borrow from Twitter @Vjknutson. Image my own.)
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I chase dreamsnever daring to risebeyond the water line keeping to the reedsand shoreline of familiarityafraid of being shot down Afraid that dreams aren’t mineto claim, that I am damneddoubled cursed as womanand child of sin I will fall oftendrown in pools of stagnationtill one days these wings A mind of their ownwill lift me […]
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