Eating Wiener Schnitzel

He craves Wiener Schnitzel
and egg rolls –
complicated request –
they settle on
Austrian, forgo
the Chinese.

Noise of the place
disconcerts her –
rather be home
or somewhere quieter
(though she’d never say),
insecurity slides in
as resentment
pulls up a chair –

How is she dining here
with indifference?

Restaurants take her back
when the heat of the kitchen
consumed her –
yelled orders,
yelled at,
rush to cater
tip or no tip

A real education,
her Father said,
but sore feet and
a broken back
left her none the wiser

Stuffiness of ochre walls,
brocade upholstery
close in, reminder
of former lovers,

She doesn’t even like milk-fed calf

Mind wanders to other walls,
now crumbled, remnants
of dreams, boundaries
set when pup- like
loyalty won hearts,
shattered her own.

So many failures
she is ashamed
feels like a stray
living off scraps

It’s a rocky path
she travels these days
solid ground a forgotten
concept, teetering
on brink of flight
no legs to carry her

Resigns herself
to Wiener Schnitzel
convinced that compromise
matters more than
personal fulfillment –

Takes a bite of baby cow and smiles.

(Eating Wiener Schnitzel first appeared here November 2016.  This edition is edited.  Image from personal collection.)

Parental Poison

A milk jug,
handle turned in,
was all it took
for father to lather,
a barrage of curses
decrying our lack of worth,
foaming from his mouth –
spittle that remains lodged
in our psyche – drug
resistant venom.

(Tuesdays poems come from Twitter.  Follow me at @Vjknutson.  Image from personal collection.)

Spotted Sandpiper

A succession of tweets
draws me to riverbed
where tiny legs scurry
across exposed rocks.

Foraging amongst
soggy offerings,
the Spotted Sandpiper
exudes confidence.

It is female who
choses breeding ground,
prepared to defend
her clan, appoints

her mates to mind
the young – she is
polyamorous, hormone
driven – a force.

(For Granny Shot It’s Bird of the Day.)

 

 

It’s Time, Women

It’s time to resurrect
our confidence,
recapture the sensitivity
of intuitive knowing,
acknowledge the power
of our resiliency;
we are women
merciful companions
healers attending
Divinity’s passage,
peace-seekers
directing life’s journey.

Too long have we equated
self-esteem with
patriarchal agendas,
disappointed with
our inability to meet
media standards,
blamed ourselves
for divorce,
disease,
staying home
to raise the children.

It’s time to honour
our strength, restore
feminine worth,
align our resources,
we are iron grace,
mindful caregivers,
mate with intention,
our vulnerability,
our sensuality,
aspects of intrinsic
wisdom, we are
keepers of the dream
beings steeped
in mystery:
it is time.

(This poem originally appeared October, 2017.  Image from personal collection.)

It Is In the Darkest Hour…

In darkness, eyes open
search for light –
touch fear
find faith

In darkness, I stumble
lose my way,
stop, pray,
listen anew

In darkness, vulnerability
strength emerges
priorities engage
soul mends.

(For Reena’s Exploration challenge – prompt is title of this piece; and Ragtag Community’s – mend.  Image from personal collection.)