Unshakeable blue
I am ocean drawn
willing movement
suspended…
Fears meet me here
at the blackened shore
I want to believe
trust the light…
But legs no longer carry me
and heaven forbid the tide
should bring unruly waves –
drowning would be inevitable
So, I hug the shore
hold my breath
and dream of
a more forgiving blue.
(Inspired by Sadje’s challenge: What do you see? based on featured image.)
Pretty lacks commitment..
“I’m pretty sure…”
“Such a pretty ____”
It doesn’t mitigate sorrow
or revel in depths
Flavourless is pretty
a hollow word
Even less profound
when paired with nice.
(Image my own creation)
Light accentuates…bedazzles
transforms ordinary into magical
slips beneath the shadows…
and glows fantastic.
(Borrowed from One Woman’s Quest II. Image my own)
The lines blur
between narrator
and reader
Each pang
a further melding
Reason, I’m such a fan.
(Image my own. Reading anything good lately?)
How is it that a rose understands
secrets buried deep ?
That softness of hue,
and hardiness of bearing
Can elicit such sentiment,
unleash nostalgic ache?
(Image my own. No reading today, as I have COVID and my voice is suffering)
Sentence and paragraph
insufficient vehicle
for processing grief
Words, like miniature life rafts
waft in and out of misery’s depths
begging for release
As if a damn has broken
and the flood of emotion
will settle for nothing less
than poetic expression.
(Image my own)
(Another poem written for Twitter. Image my own)
The woman currently abiding
within this costumed realm
is merely a lethargic version
of the once-vital, now oppressed
miss, whose identification
was stolen by means of
unsolicited adversity.
The focus of this recanting
is to invite a perspective
that not only restores, but
aids in the teaching of other
shadow-selves, that to reassert
original nature is more than fair.
(I’ve stolen Stolen Identity from an earlier post. Art my own)
All the fading bits
detract – I am still alive,
passion asserting
(Living with chronic illness, the onset of Winter can be a very discouraging time. I write to remind myself that I am not that easy to deter. )
Pockets of light
illuminate the shore –
day submitting to dark
I trace the lines
of our passage,
remembering
How winds and tides
shaped us, how carelessly
we wasted time…
Danced around
our solitudes
imitating intimacy
(Once upon a time I wrote poetry for Twitter. This is one. Image my own)
One Woman's Quest 