Category: writing

Sharing Space

Morning, he perches,
resplendent in heron gray

Like a beacon, he watches,
sets a rhythm for my day.

Is he lonely, I wonder,
eyes silent and still?

Later, he’ll wade his slow,
mindful hunt, while I tarry
waterside, camera aimed.

We’ve grown accustomed
to sharing this quiet space

I, the more curious, but
surely he ponders me too.

Is he lonely, I wonder –
Are you? his presence asks.

(Inspired by the resident Great Blue Heron and the promptings of Ragtag Community – resplendent, and Fandango – formidable.)

Forgo the Mask

Discontentment –
that restless inability
to surrender to distraction –
not easily masked

Wired, I am, for intrigue –
a dramatic actor displaying
mystery, baiting an audience

Denial dons noise-cancelling
headphones, blinders –
invested in illusions

Harmony the end-goal –
no point disguising,
discontentment ignored.

(Written for Sammi Cox’s Weekend Writing Challenge – mask, in 45 words, and Fandango’s –intrigue  -, and Ragtag Community’s – harmony .)

The Same, But Broken

Fragility blindsides –
I am woman.
Strong.

Courageous, some say –
a sentiment beyond my reach
having not chosen this state.

Fragility is pervasive –
body reduced to miniscule fibers,
stretched, torn, bordering
on broken.

Overwhelmed, mind obsesses –
will neither organize
nor let go…

If only I could let go…

I am weeping
and not

Weeping from frustration –
immediate impossibility –

Unwilling to weep for totality of loss –
it is beyond me.

Illness is regarded
with disgust,
indifference,
repulsion

There is no equality for the disabled

And, yet…

Rawness –
stripped of busy-ness –
renders me as any other

A soul yearning for a meaningful existence.

Maybe illness is the great equalizer.

(The Same, But Broken was first written in December of 2014, when I suffered from severe Myalgic Encephalomyelitis.  It is revised here.)

The Lies We Tell

He recalls we were gorgeous,
pleased me like an egg – fast

Why lie to men about
what blow must skin cry?

We are black from mist above moan,
I bare my drive as pink,

sit through summer of aching,
show my gown sweet…

though never did sleep.

(Fridays are magnetic poetry.  Find it online at magnetic poetry.com.  Love it if you’d join me.)

Routes

No straight road,
no easy, out of the pod,
solutions – complexity,
it seems, reigns.

I travel circular paths
past ancient structures –
having erected statues
to past wounds – present
walls barely standing.

Unseen forces drive –
societal angst,  perhaps –
know only that life
is possibility, and I
sorrowfully lag.

(Written for Twenty Four’s 50 Word Thursday, with help from the daily prompts of Fandango – easy, and Ragtag Community – pod.  Image supplied by Deb Whittam of Twenty Four.)

Kindergarten Pie

Take a classroom of five-year-olds –
nimble-footed, names unintelligible –
add a dozen runny noses
and three boo-boos
and one unfortunate ‘accident’.

Introduce a teacher –
holiday hazed and overtired –
mix with a controversial curriculum,
a dash of micromanaging parents,
and splash of report cards due.

Blend cautiously,
taking care that all ingredients remain
in the bowl…er…classroom…

Bake for five days,
cool over the weekend.

(I taught Kindergarten for a day and still have nightmares about it, lol.  To all the primary teachers out there – I am not worthy.  You are amazing.  Poem inspired by a recent dream, and written in the spirit of this week’s challenge:  recipe. Challenge is open all week – would love it if you joined in.)