Category: writing

On Nature

How is it that a tree can stir my soul, so?
Yet, set amongst the Douglas firs –
an orchestra of giants, the reassurance
of green towering and proud – the music
of my soul is nothing less than symphonic.

How is it that the sky can speak to me?
No words to convey its vastness, yet,
it breathes new life into empty spaces,
whispers promises, ignites a hope
synonymous only with its expanse.

How is it that a body of water – be it
serene, flowing, or turbulent, can tug
at the corners of my emotional well,
create a longing for the unknowable,
toss me from my bed of complacency?

And how does a single flower, growing
wild, crack this shell of indifference –
the determination to blossom despite
harshness of surroundings – instill such
inspiration, motivate me to rejoice?

(Day four of the NaPoWriMo challenges us to use nouns in our writing.  The suggested essay is a good read, so you might want to check it out. )

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Life Chapters

Today’s NaPoWriMo challenge is to write a poem of lists, based on fictitious names.  I always thought I could write a memoir, with each chapter being a play on the name of the streets I’ve lived on:

Dawn: Life Begins
Kings way: Patriarchy Established
Towering Heights:  The Rise Before the Fall
Wake – Elle:  Feminism is Born
Black Acres:  The Dark Years
Berkshire:  A Male Chauvinist Pig
Springbank:  Hope
William:  A New Ruler
Topping:  The Final Straw
Wonderland:  Like Alice
Beached Wood:  Pregnancy
Hardsley:  Still Pregnant
Highview:  Scrambling for Perspective
Deck Her:  Perspective is Obvious
Bricks n Ham:  Hard Life
Baseline:  A Bottom to Build From
Griffin:  Chasing a Myth
Crestly:  Climbing
Mark Us:  Noteworthy
Iron Wood:  Gaining
Boler:  Hats Off to Progress

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A Poem in Three Voices

Page three! Father would say
whenever she opened mouth
to speak – inevitable tale waiting

I just want you to hear me,
I remember feeling, to know
that my words have meaning

You get all your needs met;
it’s why I work so hard, now
don’t bother me, get along… 

She learned to hold things in,
to refrain from long passages,
practiced needing no one.

Dear diary, why does everyone
hate me? What have I done,
and why do I feel so alone …?

You hide away in that room
of yours, ignoring your mother
and me; what’s wrong with you?

 She shrugs, picks up her purse
and heads out the door, school
is almost finished, then freedom.

Left home today; so happy to be
away; hope my roommates like
me, hope I don’t ruin it for us. 

Just called to see if you’re okay,
your mother and I worry; let
us know if you need anything…

But she’d stop needing long ago –
shut down in the formative years,
when rejection defined esteem.

(Today’s NaPoWriMo prompt is to write a poem in three voices.)

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Security

Silly really,
this relationship of mine –
how I hang on, despite
the tears, the fraying
edges, ignore
the waning
of fibres,
how lifted
to the light
I can see through –
warmth no longer
a reason for
clinging,
and yet
there are memories
woven in between
loose threads –
heartache and
consolation –
and so, like Linus
I cannot let it go.

(Decided to join NaPoWriMo, hosted by Maureen Thorson.  A little slow on the uptake, I’ve started with the early prompt:  to write a letter (poem) to an inanimate object.)

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Passion Exposed

Seduced –
the virility of youth
irresistible even for an old
duck like me –  so unexpected,
relentless, I ignore exhaustion
lean into the fantasy, allow
desire to embrace me,
cross a boundary,
surrender…

step up
to the stage,
bare-chested,
shameless, speak
into the mic, reveal
my words: those
childlike bits
of myself;
hope

my passion
does not offend,
the blatant sexuality
of my tongue, my voice,
raw desire, peaked arousal,
does not mar my reputation,
pathetic, really, that one so past
her prime should dare to grace the
boards – surely a younger woman’s game.

(Passion Exposed was penned in December of 2016 after attending my first poetry open mic.  Having been a closet writer for most of my life, I still find it uncomfortable at times to share my words.)

A Poem’s Life

No value
have these words –
splotches on white –

no meaning
structure worthless –
two-dimensional

until eyes curious
willing to linger
invite order

add focus,
insert experience
inject emotion

paint the page
with resonance
bring a poem to life.

(A thank you to all my dear readers, whose support gives me so much encouragement and brings my words to life.)

Watercolour

Introducing
colour to water
offering it up
to blank pages
learning less is better
and gentle strokes
elicit blossoming results

Introducing
colour to water
breathing life into
blank spaces
offering gentleness
to blossoming creativity
reveling in the delight.

(This poem was penned for the Story Circle’s Network
e-poetry group in response to February’s prompt – treasured
moments.”