Sentence and paragraph
insufficient vehicle
for processing grief
Words, like miniature life rafts
waft in and out of misery’s depths
begging for release
As if a damn has broken
and the flood of emotion
will settle for nothing less
than poetic expression.
(Image my own)
(Another poem written for Twitter. Image my own)
Do not be distracted
by the blue-ness of words
nor the grittiness of tone
These are merely
contrasting elements
of a greater whole.
(Snapshot first appeared here in November, 2018. Art my own)
Exhaustion
weighty, erosive,
plaguing, torturing, releasing
memories, grief, pain, forgiveness
inspiring, renewing, catapulting
joyful, wondrous
energy
(Image mine)
Worms have invaded
every sliver of my antagonist
by now, and still I tarry …
Minute details excuses
for hesitation,
the memoir languishes
unpublished
Wanting my audience
to savour each morsel,
declare it fit for consumption
The ironic death march
of a solemn vow
to make light of dark.
(Art my own)
Skyward I cast
this melancholy,
hook a cloud
and drift…
A dalliance
with the sun –
his irrepressible
optimism scolds
I let go the tether
retreat to sombre soil
re-commit to
gloom’s scold
(Image my own. Scold first appeared on Twitter)
Does peace have a sound,
and if it does, is it soft like a whisper,
or chime-like – a resonance
reverberating from tip to crown?
I have known exaltation,
felt my heart thrill at the dance
of dolphins just beyond my reach
I have known elation, awe,
honour and humility,
but would I recognize peace?
Joy is a child’s laughter
bliss, indescribable pleasure,
so why am I forgetting peace?
Does peace have a sound
and if it does, will I recognize it
attuned as I am to discord?
(Image my own)
Guide me to source
offer all that I ask, but Â
I have no voice…
Desire cut off in formative years
a product of dysfunctional loyalty
I am tethered to other
submissive by conditioning
Have forgotten my primal roots
my lupine instinct numbed
by domestication
Lead me to riches
and I will balk at the door
wander off distracted
It is not indifference
but an inability to relate
the concept of deserving
beyond my reach.
(Image my creation)
The loom on which
I weave
these threads
is more foreboding
than machinery
These fibres,
neither silken
nor wool,
cottoned
from misadventures,
miscommunication,
and inner unraveling
The mind,
an unpredictable
seamstress,
fabricates a flawed tale –
silver threads of wisdom
sewn between precarious lines –
consumer be wary.
(Image created by AI. This is an edited version of the original.)
Circling,
dancing,
caught between
idealism of expectation
and harshness of reality –
one has lofty goals,
the other invites limitation
I’ve excuses aplenty –
none that assuage ambition
Incomplete work dangles
from spider web threads
waiting for rescue
Talking to myself
unavailing – best
step out of this dichotomy
stop the whirling
(Sketch my own)
One Woman's Quest 