Playing House

A new house promises
evokes dreams
we share a vision –
invite colour,
keep it light,
banish the old.

So we shop,
measure,
consult,
order.

Shipments arrive
pieces unwrap
instruction followed
products delight

Then…
old lamps appear –
those left in storage
all of our years –
and your Nan’s bookcase,
and that blue mirror

and suddenly
our bright, breezy décor
is a fusion of old and new –
and the nostalgia is yours
alone

I sacrificed my memories
for the dream –
am bruised…

Can abide insertion
of personal…yet,
detect underhandedness –
an assertion of the alpha

Yet…
glancing about,
cannot ignore
influences of my taste –
my preferences
overriding yours..

Withdraw objection –
recognizing the sleight
understand all too well
how ego yearns
for acknowledgment
when establishing a home.

(Many prompts and a recent move have inspired today’s writing:
Fandago’s word of the day – ego
Ragtag Community’s daily prompt – abide
Daily Addictions – detect
and Sammi Cox’s weekend writing prompt which challenges us to use the word ‘fusion‘ in a 130 words.)

 

Re-Settling

Front porch –
a balcony view –
retirement’s play.

Novel – this place –
silence stretches,
pauses briefly –

a car creeps by,
or a dog barks –
my heart beats…

inside – commotion –
pounding hammers,
swoosh of legs in motion –

not mine – body bankrupt –
mind impoverished –
no – not that – just struggling.

empty boxes pile up,
others – contents lingering,
unresolved – call my name,

but the front porch
makes promises –
there is time…

(I am a day late for dVerse, but intrigued by the challenge, decided to join in anyway.  Today’s prompts are: commotion (Fandango), novel (Ragtag Community), poverty (Daily Addictions). Photo is front porch view – our first sunset.)

 

Moving Day

A single, blow-up bed
claims my stake
on this house

mostly empty –
dust remnants
of former occupants
rise at my passage –
I chase them

Renovation
will precede
settling in

yet, I will not leave
wrapping myself
in these walls

waiting for
the revelation
that this is home.

(Linked to V.J.’s weekly challenge: home.)

Moving

Outside, clouds hover,
heavy, threatening.

Inside, men haul –
china cabinet,
weathered couch –

accumulation
marking years,
exiting under duress

echoes fill in the spaces

scent of soured sweat lingers

kitchen counters
glare, empty

layers of our lives
stripped away

our vacated shell,
an emotional tug

Is it fear?  Sorrow?

What was it all about anyway?

closing the door behind us
locking memories in the past

we load our small boxes
essentials for a simpler life –
a home on wheels life

point our nose forward
and drive away
as the sun breaks through.

(A year ago, we sold our bricks and sticks house, along with its contents and moved into a motor home.  Now we are reversing the process – accumulating and setting up house again.  Apparently, we like change.  V.J’s weekly challenge is fittingly about home.)

Solitudes

Solitude.
I dream
of expansive landscapes,
crave your panoramic
silence, thrill to the ideal
of your boundless sanctity.

Solitude.
You wrap me
in separateness, strip away
my cardboard walls, tear
at the corners of my instability;
no refuge from the stillness.

Solitude.
I am smothered
by your starkness, by my
starkness, cries of madness
reverberating through vast
canyons of aloneness.

(Solitudes first appeared here in May 2017.  From 2014 to 2017, I lived in isolation and silence due to ME/CFS.  I examined the phenomena often through poetic expression. This edition has been altered from the original.  I submit it here for dVerse’s “Sounds of Silence” challenge.  Thank you Dwight Roth for hosting.)

Awkward

Chance encounter,
a simple “hello”,
and I reel
backwards,
grasping…

blank

the mind a trickster,
memory inaccessible,
panic pulses

a response…

hovers

out of reach

expectancy
a deadline…

Am I smiling?
Or just an inert fool,
this brain fog
a cruel master.

(Ran into an old friend today.  Could not remember her name, nor where I knew her from, only that we knew each other quite well.  This is has been happening frequently – maybe as I get out more.  Very disconcerting.

Prompts today are from Fandango:  deadline; Ragtag Community: pulse; and Daily Addictions: access.)

Mom

She dresses for company,
every day –
just in case.

Keeps a puzzle at her side –
a distraction for lonely times,
entertainment for guests.

Body failing,
eyes challenged,
but mind is sharp.

At ninety-one,
how she keeps going
remains a mystery to most.

(Mish is hosting in the dVerse pub tonight.  The challenge is to write a poem in 44 words (quadrille) using the word puzzle.  Thanks Mish!)

Storing Energy

Comfortable is the state
I aspire to today –
lounging pants,
a weathered tee,
and a pace to match.

Tomorrow, we prepare:
finish up packing,
load the vehicle,
await the signal –
the house is ours!

Small town living
is the setting of choice –
Stonetown – quaint
shops, cottages of lime,
a river running through it

We’ll settle in amongst
other seniors, register
for local activities, walk
along the trails, and
visit nearby theaters

take the grandchildren
swimming in the quarry,
blue as it is deep –
water trampolines
and kayaks ready for fun.

Yet another adventure,
in our life of many –
so today, I rest, make plans,
nap – save my energy
for busy tomorrows.

(Thanks to Fandango for the daily prompt: comfortable, and to the Ragtag community for quarry.  The focus of my weekly challenge is home. Love it if you’d join me.)

Love Talk

It’s like cycling uphill
in three lanes of traffic
in a snowstorm

trying to communicate with you

I keep peddling –
sending signals –

but you’re like the SUV
spraying slush in your wake

hindering  progress,
ignoring my needs…

Aren’t we soulmates –
in tune, hearts beating as one –
words superfluous between us?

Then why am I about to expire
and you’re just revving up?

No telepathy at work here.

Empathy lacking, too.

(Sammi Cox’s weekend challenge is telepathy in 72 words)

The Character of Old Houses

Old houses exude charm:
walls whispering nostalgic
wonder, eliciting yearnings
buried deep within the soul.

Purchasers are spellbound,
transported to simpler times,
read mystical forecasts in
archways and carved nooks.

Committed, they settle in,
noting too late cosmetic
fixes, startled to uncover
structural faults, despair

to learn that the dreams
which built this place have
now crumbled and cracked,
repairs needed extensive.

Overhauling beyond means –
physically and financially –
old houses not only offer,
but test, character – beware.

(Originally posted July 2016.)