Forgive these ellipses…
mind sputters… lost
in woods… indulge
attempts of emergence…
seeking ambrosia…
within shadowy heights.
(Tuesdays I borrow from Twitter @Vjknutson. Image my own.)
Forgive these ellipses…
mind sputters… lost
in woods… indulge
attempts of emergence…
seeking ambrosia…
within shadowy heights.
(Tuesdays I borrow from Twitter @Vjknutson. Image my own.)
Consciousness commands
a shift of focus
tired of the clash of colours
stimulation overload
my muse is leaning towards
the nuance of black and white
A study of shadows
and shading
and how light
arouses the soul
Speak to me in subtleties
she whispers
in tones suggestive
of hidden depths
I am listening
And so I submerge myself
clear the palette of vibrant hues
and take up the lowly pencil
seek the promise
in a colourless world.
(For Reena’s Exploration challenge: a colourless world. Sketch my own.)
Celebrity bores
I crave sapid exchange – bird
song, sweet and tender
I am past prime – gigs dried up
but nature provides plenty.
(Image mine)
Wild the buttercups
thrive beneath emerald
canopies –
Joyous the heart
open to reverie
swells –
Earthy matters
soothed in moments
of ethereal release.
Define family –
nest of promises, story
filled houses of stone?
Expectations built lacking
substance – original sin?
(Tuesdays I borrow from Twitter @Vjknutson, this tanka edited from original.  Image mine.)

Of cubism,
I am ignorant
yet, I relate
To express
depths of perception
concurrent aspects
Of a multi –
imagined
universe
Or even
to embrace
the possibility
of oneness
in fractured
slices…
I pull apart the pieces
re-create the image
still cannot find the whole.
(Reena’s Exploration challenge this week is cubism, a subject I know nothing about, but it does seem to fit with this self-portrait I’ve been working on. Synchronicity in action.)
Poet’s mind fragile
images ripe, words lacking
waste of genius
shadows whisper of bathos –
a rewrite is imminent.
(Image mine)
The magic is not
in crossing paths
with celebrity
Gaining entry
into inner circles
deconstructing myths
Magic is the moment
when flattery does not sway
when recognition surpasses
the gloss of stargazing
embraces inner substance
evolves into self-acceptance.
(For Eugi’s Causerie Weekly prompt: magic. Art my own.)
Had a weird sort of lexicon
the man who professed
to be my dad –
Clamped in his chokehold
he’d demand words of devotion
Became inured to this dichotomy –
spent a lifetime searching for love –
Just the right balance of cruelty and kind.
(Tuesdays, I borrow from Twitter @Vjknutson. Sketch mine.)
Hold my words
up to your lens –
exchange snippets
distracted lives
hold no audience
I seek a way home.
(Reena’s Exploration challenge invites us to write a cryptic poem. Image my own.)