Category: writing

The Siren’s Spell

Not for the weak of heart, this watery confinement –
with brine-coated tongues and surly dispositions, went
the submarine crew to their depths, braved the absence
of daylight, sold their souls to Poseidon’s entombment.

Some say it was the fumes, sulphurous as Hell’s own funk
that warped the minds of hardy men, robbed them of their spunk –
tales of lily-white maidens, whose melodic tunes wiled,
lured spirits from their nests, lifeless corpses in their bunk.

(This form, inspired by Willow Poetry’s What Do You See? challenge – the image provided – is a Rubayait, written for dVerse pub.)

Fluttering

Somewhere inside,
beneath the noise
of to do’s, or regrets,
buried so deep,
that I disbelieve
it exists, and yet…

there it is –
pulsating in sleep,
disrupting idle moments –
a hum, a breeze, a niggling,
as if I’ve trapped passion,
like a firefly, jarred it
in some inner cellar…

and still, it glows –
begs for the light of day,
a slit in consciousness
through which to escape –
inspiration demanding
expression.

What’s In a Name?

What’s her name?
Simple question
from mother to son –
recognizing the love-lifted
joy of his countenance.

I cannot tell, said he,
you’ll ask too many questions.
Do I know her?
No, Mom, she’s Somali.
And Muslim.

I felt my whiteness
and all its privilege
slap me, stumbled

Of course she is welcome,
of course it does not matter.

Had no sense of the depth
of my ignorance, how heads
would turn, and vile strangers
attack, and his father shun them.

And how her own mother
would advise her to take his name
when the day of their nuptials came
so that finding work would be easier.

Had no sense of the depth
of my ignorance, how
everyday matters suffer
unfair scrutiny –

hold them in my heart
and pray, knowing my shield
of whiteness holds no sway
to protect them..

(Written for dVerse pub, where Anmol challenges us to address the topic of privilege.)

Blame It On the Moon

Lethargic, you say –
it is the moon’s withdrawal
that compels this wane –
the current that runs between
defying gravity, depleting –
no sense in fighting
such elemental flow –
total submission is key.

(Written for Reena’s Exploration Challenge: moon; Ragtag Community’s: key; and Fandango’s: lethargic.)

 

Stirred

Unheralded,
an apparition
in white –
wings enveloping,
uplifting

soul cries,
voiceless,
powerless –
no pause
on perfection

she follows coastlines
while I travel roads,
fades from view

her shadow lingers,
wraps me in melancholy

one minute of rapture –
enough to make me mourn.

(Inspired by the sudden appearance of an egret while shooting this image.  Submitted for Manic Mondays 3 Way Prompt:  roads, and Reena’s Exploration challenge:  one minute.)

Sexy Sailed

Born brilliant,
and good looking,
he had me dancing,
fevered –
red cat woman,
I am porcelain,
prisoner,
cup fishing,
long to explore
dark words –
do not ask though –
sexy sailed –
ate godless
byes.

(It’s Magnetic Poetry Friday.)

 

Unwanted

Like a wanted woman,
I hide in public places

One step ahead of recognition,
ignoring friendly gestures,
leaving confusion in my wake

I’m tired of this game,
the pretence – long only
to turn myself in

tear away the mask
and announce
my presence

but I’m afraid –
could lose it all –
career, reputation

all for a crime I did not commit.

Oh wait…I already did –
just like a wanted woman…

(Image from personal collection.  My images, some with poetry are now available through Society6.  I’d love it if you’d check us out and leave feedback.)

Family Portrait

Did you know that life would come to this?
Flattened memories pressed between wax,
the essence of our efforts forgotten, the dreams,
so carefully construed, lost.  You leaned toward
the conventional, and I was ever the sentimentalist
and yet we ended up in the same place – shadow
selves standing at the banks of our disheveled lives,
survivors, nonetheless, tokens of a past riddled
with so many lies, so much heartbreak, we are
ghost sisters, haunted, hunting, unable to step
away – drawn in, pulling apart – all that remains.