Seasonal Passages

Summer yearns
sun burning
water cooling
life affirming
longing for love

I would hold you there
in those days of youth
when relationship
donned mystery
and fear shrouded
the path

But Autumn reigns now
a time for letting go
a time for turning
back clocks – time
lost in a mere blink
on the shores
of our story

And soon Winter
when I will knit
our memories
into cozy dreams
and while away
the frosty mornings
sipping from the cup
of moments lost.

(Eugi’s Weekly Prompt is : Autumn. Image my own)

Unforgettable

Come to the table!
Mother said, meaning
bring your best manners
and your appetites
but I had neither –
a naughty kid

Come to the table!
Teacher commanded
expectations high
and I, distracted
had nothing to show
but humiliation

Come to the table!
said the mediator,
negotiating divorce
Ex’s demands inflexible –
my shell-shocked response
lacking assertiveness

Come to the table!
nightmare voice says,
and I tremble –
tables are for getting
and I am lacking worth
un-for-get-table

(A little fun with words for Reena’s Xploration Challenge #202. Image my own)

Shadow Speak

Shadows stalk our conversations,
hovering between lines spoken.

Mother fears death and I,
sidestep darkness…

It’s delusional to believe
we can think ourselves well
or avoid pain by seeking only light

I chew on my words
not wanting to inflict harm –
have done enough of that over the years

Pray for peace to guide her passage
the reassurance of forgiveness
love unconditional

Times like this, language
is sorely lacking, we stumble
build sentences, capture moments

Tell ourselves it will be enough.
It won’t be in the end.
It never is.

(A found poem, borrowed from a previous post, July 2019, on One Woman’s Quest II. Submitted for Eugi’s Weekly prompt: peace. Image my own)

The Cook

She’s in the kitchen
cleaning, prepping
sweetness, wishes

to nurture childlike
longings – sugar laden
gifts, honeyed chops

hooks her men with
culinary preciseness –
as legend prescribes

wants a strong, reliable
type to stir her ovaries
keep her dishing up love

Disappointment, like raw egg
drips off china plates –
shame of misadventures
she cannot scrub away

only serves tea now –
the smell of liquor
mingled with cigarettes
in lecherous calloused
hands turns her stomach

avoids the coffee maker
in the same way, despises
the way the bitter brew
makes her head spin –
wits need to be in order

has settled now as hostess
caters to near strangers
whose attention, riveted
by television screens, are

lulled by the rhythmic
sounds of her sanitizing
while stew simmers in pot,
dreams of romance shelved.

(Originally titled “Hatched”, this poem first appeared here in July, 2017. I am submitting an edited version for Reena’s Xploration challenge: Stranger in a strange land. Image my own)