Sky darkens
burdened clouds
release sorrow
in empathy
body throbs –
aching harmonics.
(Twitter Tuesday @Vjknutson)
Sky darkens
burdened clouds
release sorrow
in empathy
body throbs –
aching harmonics.
(Twitter Tuesday @Vjknutson)
I navigate sharp twists,
confront rough trails,
steep slopes, swoon
at dizzying heights,
frailty felt.
This path is for rugged,
mountain-born,
those accustomed
to the sheer immutable
force of rock –
and yet, my lens
tells a different tale –
speaks of shadows
shifting witnesses
mutations of colour
describes a giant
whose facade reflects
the day’s passing light,
demonstrates compassion
in earth’s stillness.
(Mountain first appeared in February of 2018, inspired by the Apache Trail, Arizona.  Watercolour image by yours truly.)
Is this life-play pre-staged –
reservations made in childhood
when fun constituted priority,
and drama thrived, unchecked
by adults, bemoaning authority,
too self-absorbed to conceive
consequences beyond jest?
Or did some karmic assessment
initiate the unfolding –
social standing, and needs
prescribed as lessons,
dependents selected as inspiration,
and if so, is there a contract
revealed upon ultimate exit
or a certificate of completion
securing passage upwards?
It’s a bird’s perspective I envy –
the ability to perch up high,
balanced no matter the weather,
unaffected by the drama below –
I shall never know such calm,
being afraid of heights.
(For Reena’s Exploration challenge: perspective.)
Midnight, the water
running between us,
frigid the air –
despondent the heart
whose selfish outburst
destroyed the bridge
to your love.
(Twitter poems @Vjknutson)
Idleness fills his hours
as if time knows no limits
I devour moments, afraid
tomorrow will forget me
we see-saw between
treacherous righteousness
and fusty avoidance
ignoring balance –
a sensible response.
(Inspired by the perils of an aging marriage, and submitted for Ragtag Community’s prompt: Â fusty.) Â Image from personal collection.
If death is sleep
then surely I am close –
body leaden
refuses to budge,
brain a slow crawl
I would feel something –
remorse, fear, confusion –
but the weight of slumber
has numbed senses,
reaction sludge
only a drum, drum
of heart harkens
life’s continued spark –
What thread of will
keeps me hanging on,
surely sleep preferable?
(Myalgic Encephalomyelitis is characterized by exhaustion after exertion. Â The fatigue is systemic. )
Painted skies whisper
a nightly farewell – silent
beauty speaks volumes.
(For RonovanWrites Weekly Haiku Prompt Challenge: beauty & quiet)
I am communicator,
initiator,
anticipate
a friendly invitation
from the unknown
But the subconscious
alights on the familial –
gathers sanctimonious,
moneyless, old, empty
terrors of dysfunction –
spits out shame
and rage.
Like it or not –
I am vulnerable.
Drop words like scat –
an odorous trail,
mixed ramblings,
deterring detection –
from numinous
and life-affirming
to egregious and vile –
follow me if you can.
(Tuesdays I borrow from Twitter, @Vjknutson.)