Category: writing

Summer Love

Waves lap in rhythm with my heart
midnight sky bewitches, stars sing,
hand-in-hand our spirits soar
pulses dancing to the seduction
of love’s enchantment –

Tonight the ambiance possesses us
tonight boundaries have no hold
we are moon-crazed innocence
warmed by mysterious stirrings
sand shifting beneath naked soles.

(For Eugi’s Causerie Weekly challenge: bewitched. Image my own.)

That’s What I Fear

“A woman in harmony with her spirit is like a river flowing. She goes where she will without pretence and arrives at her destination prepared to be herself and only herself.”
– Maya Angelo

I fear living.

No, that’s not it.

I love living…
…but I fear engagement…
…drowning in engagement

Except, I love engagement…
… but only when I dip my toe in the waters
and feel the thrill…
and can still maintain control.

I fear losing control. I fear no longer being able to call the shots, life demanding more of me than I’m willing (or able) to give.

I’m willing to give…
… to a certain point…
…can no longer afford to be sapped dry, wrung out
and discarded… so much hurt
so much betrayal…
such lack of appreciation

I have given.
I have loved and sacrificed and cherished and
given…
…up…
…self

It’s self I’m afraid of losing
and why not?
I am only just able to touch her

She and I, still hesitant
building a certainty
a mutual admiration
respect…

And should I be called upon
to give…too much…well…

I could lose her again.

This is what I fear.

(Two separate blog posts hit me this week. The first offering the Angelo quotation (sorry, I can’t remember the blog’s name) and the second from my friend Dr Andrea Dinardo, who offers the question: What’s Under the Fear? Dr D offers a five step process for self-discovery. This is my response. Image my own. The poem also fits with my weekly challenge theme: except)

She Who Stalks

Globules of rain
hit the window
panes sloshing

Day has not yet broken
the sun held captive
unforgiving clouds

A ghostly figure
perches mid tree
leers eyeless

I recognize
feline contours
fearless slink

A daemon stalker
We’ve wrestled before
Have I summoned her?

She shifts
haunches easing
into pounce

Not today, Lord
I pray aloud
Not today!

(for Eugi’s Causerie weekly prompt: ghostly. Image my own)

Dead Are Unimpressed

A cruel master
the ticking clock
So much potential
Get it done!

I rush past shadows
crumple the pages
failed attempts
mounting

What of dreams?
Of life’s destiny?
How I worship
at the altar of should

Even with positivity
fantastical notions fall short
I argue against uncertainty
meet only disapproval

There is no magic
no pre-destined fame
just dust gathering
the dead are unimpressed.

(Linking up with Reena’s Exploration challenge: follow link for video prompt. Image my own.)

Secret Keepers

(Disclaimer: I am submitting this poem for Reena’s Exploration challenge: horror. The poem arose from a nightmare, and my be triggering for some readers.)

They always take the back roads,
virginal snow-covered lanes
lined with trees: pastoral views

Unmarked routes, out of sight,
use the innocence of landscape
to blot out their dark intentions

Pristine picture perfect scenes
lull the unsuspecting; breath-
taking vistas: secret keepers

The roads still exist in my dreams
the trees like soldiers, stiff and stark
stripped of their magical allure, now

guard the memories, painted red
with loss of purity; I had not
guessed the danger of woods

child mind incapable of conceiving
what wolves roamed in nature
the blood of their victims crimson

stains forever etched in silhouette
the shrillness of their screams
now silent echoes in the night.

(Secret Keepers first appeared here September of 2016. Art my own.)