Pity is a feathered thing,
perches high above my bed,
feeds off flakes of moulting skin,
devouring the essence of me,
till bone rattling with distraught,
I scare it off.
(Poem from Twitter @Vjknutson. Image from personal collection.)
Category: writing
Resilience
Purpose –
much coveted
despair-driven –
has returned.
Energy –
motivation
to proceed –
building
Willingness –
once vibrant
now constrained –
resists.
Chasms –
loss created
unparalleled –
require bridges.
Purpose –
discovery born
enthusiastic –
persists.
(Resilience first appeared here in October, 2018. I submit a slightly revised edition here for Ragtag Community’s daily prompt: resilience.)
Shame and Weakness
I paint smiles
to mask the stench
Greed’s perfume
triggering
an avalanche
shame
cannot hide
the fear, trembles
threatening to divulge
weakness.
(Image by yours truly.)
I Grow Roses
I grow roses to remember
a beloved grandmother
the dreams of innocence
the blush of summer love
I grow roses to believe
that life has purpose
and time has no end
and love defies boundaries.
I grow roses to understand
that beauty and pain coexist
and life is about cycles
and simple things have great value.
(Linking up with Eugi’s Causerie, prompt: blush. Image from personal collection.)
Brain on Fire
My mind is ablaze –
ideas churning
vying for recognition –
greed is ego’s bane
hogs the spotlight
but other thoughts stir
gentler, more insightful –
will remain in shadow
till a quorum empowers
artful expression.
(This poem is from Twitter @Vjknutson. I’m linking it up with Reena’s Exploration challenge which is the featured image. Photo credit: Daniel Salmieri.)
Bystander
Dare I confess
the hollowness
of my heart
How emptiness
echoes in its chambers
How lost I feel inside
This is no sanctity
no secure refuge
my withdrawal is a sham
I stand by, observe –
circles entwine, embrace –
recognize the power of love
Practice the words
extend warmth
and retreat, before
connection ignites
convinced as I am
that the vacancy is merited.
(Image from personal collection.)
The Last Book
What will be written
in the aftermath –
so much owing,
so little justification.
Upended anxiety –
regal anticipations
shattered by cancer –
yes, life is a teacher
No matter,
if we survive –
but where to go then
Earth’s riches exploited
Commitments crumbled –
confess we have Father issues
but it’s time to emerge,
step forward, take the lead
What follows contentment
battled, passive crosses borne,
paths with no clear direction,
doubt as ante?
Hubs are shattered –
we are spokes with no centre –
pray the last book written
is reconstructive.
(Inspired by a dream, and combined with the prompt from Reena’s Exploration: The Last Book on Planet Earth. Image from personal collection.)
