Dis-abled Self

A wounded creature, I circle the pack;
A laggard seeking inroads, missing cues;
A social wanna be without the smack –
This fogged state a waning of my hues.

My path a heartless road through blinding snow,
And I without a map or coat, alone –
To ask for help, a degradation – No!
Tis arrogance and stubbornness I own.

I’ll bide my time on sidelines crying ill,
Bemoan this wretched fate and limp along;
Til self-indulgence wears thin, then I will
By humble act, declare I do belong.

And in the end no consequence is worse:
Than mulish woman bearing no self-worth.

(This modest attempt at iambic pentameter is brought to you by the promptings of Frank at dVerse.  Hope it wasn’t too painful.)

Foundations

Rock solid,
biding time,
fixated on
a future
born of
movement.

Frozen –
iced snapshots
of possibility,
immobilized by
misperceptions

Role-playing
expectations
carved from
generations
of staging.

One falters
all tumble,
lives shatter,
sink, lies
bottom out

sediment
disintegrates,
settles –
strength emerges
resurrecting

rock by rock,
precarious at first,
then gradually
re-building,
balance restored.

(Submitted for Willow Poetry’s challenge:  What Do You See, based on featured image.)

A Woman with No Name

Descended from fire,
I am earth, and spring,
and graciousness –

Oh, that it were so –
fiery yes, with a love
of nature, but grace?

Truth is I am 5th born,
not supposed to be –
naming left to father

who fumbled in the act,
named me incorrectly
and thus my identity

was born of confusion –
rushed and flustered –
a woman with no name.

(dVerse challenge today is write a poem based on our full names.   Even though I have three given names, thanks to my father, I’ve only been known by initials.  Photo is of a granddaughter.)

Parents Beware! (A Hallowe’en Tale)

Warily watching innocents
parading on the edge of darkness,
portraits of miniature monsters,
haunting deserted streets.

Howls from a  local asylum,
like sirens, scream of wizards,
devious deviners hovering
over fresh young blood.

Heart beating irrationally,
I pause to calm my breath –
turn to find my charge gone
disappeared into the haze.

I retrace my steps – No!
She’s evaporated, snatched –
vomit rises in my throat,
while goblins stalk shadows.

Frantically, I hunt, search
stashes, grasping for clues,
night closing in; I shiver
at the ominous laughter.

Curiosity caught her –
twilight’s call, visions
enticing – unaware of
vulnerability, eager-eyed

as any student of fright –
hissing cackles circle
the unsuspecting morsel
of flesh, drooling fangs

connive – bumping into
evil, she tries to run, is
swallowed up, lost, stench
of morbidity closing in –

find her, crumpled –
a broken bird – princess
dreams dishevelled, streaks
of tears on muddied face.

Tend to her in the shadowy
hours, dissuading fears –
All imaginary, I persuade,
just costumes like yours..

Yet, even I feel the lingering
snarl of beasts, the undeniable
chill in the air; I snuggle her
tight, and say an extra prayer

as Night wraps her in his
ebony cloak and feverish and
afraid, she is whisked away
to another mortifying realm.

(A ghoulish tale, written a few years back and submitted here for Manic Mondays 3 Way prompt:  ominous.)

Beauty Routine

Plump the lips
pad the ass,
pull abs in

Push-up bras
and false eyelash,
botox, and brows

Make us pretty
much less witty –
do not overdo

Natural is rave
naked is yuck –
to find perfection

choose a routine
that sculpts and
shapes, then lie.

(dVerse quadrille prompt is yuck,  Ragtag Community is plump, Fandango offers routine, Daily Addictions is apparent.)

Mindfulness

Even as we harvest
the fruits of our endeavors,

as the leaves of summer
give over to golden dreams

and light reaches through
gathering clouds, illuminating,

celebrating; we must not forget
that we are a part of this living

miracle, that our lives, in harmony
with Nature, deserve reverence.

Of Wings

Winged things
are meant to fly,
like birds, and planes,
and dragonflies…
angels…

I had dreams once –
winged creatures
who soared
limitless skies…
free…

Until fear –
a cruel master –
caged my heart,
clipped my spirit…
broken…

Age and loss
turned the page,
locks illusions
unravelled…
escape…

Vulnerable,
I walk, remember
wings, lift my face
to inclement  weather…
fly…

(Written in response to Willow Poetry’s weekly challenge:  What do you See?)

The Lady Calls It

Shipwrecked –
tossed ashore by blatant lies,
women’s cries lost
in political gales

Collins says
#MeToo
is valid,
should be continued

Just not this time

Might as well
throw one life preserver
for the millions drowning

Hope GOP have
their own life jackets
handy for the tsunami
that is imminent.

(Written for 50 Word Thursday.)