Urgency and age, well acquainted
Is it Celestine, this draw
or a fateful sense of lacking?
Time ticks a cringeworthy rhythm
insists I pay attention – Fine!
say I, lingering over a defiant tea
Passive is my denial
aggressive is the fear
Tomorrow, I tell myself.
( Tuesdays, I borrow from Twitter @Vjknutson. Image my own.)
If I measure progress
by “used-to’s”
illness and age win
I used to play tennis
speed and muscle
ease of ambition
This place, the nexus
of how life has changed,
teaches me appreciation
Frost in my veins
permanent, warmth
of memories aglow.
(Image my own.
Tuesdays, I borrow from Twitter @Vjknutson)
Past love’s deadline
wolves no longer prowl
vultures, smelling rot,
circle overhead, plot
My essence is solitary
feather fallen between
wide-eyed expectancy
and maturity’s abyss
Abandonment or neglect
I truly cannot say…
(Tuesdays I borrow from Twitter @Vjknutson. Image my own.)
Had a kinship once
with gentleness
and acceptance
confidence, too
Till independence
made me tough
a fortress against
imagined battles
Married myself
to distance
disengaged
from fluidity
Age necessitates shift
those barriers of old
they’re just cons
Readopting tenderness
re-friending acceptance
confidence with humour.
(My challenge this week is con/ scams/ catfish. Image my own.)
Youth flaunts her truth
serious in convictions –
that eternity exists
that words carry worth
Folly naturally succeeds
break down – inevitable
the opportunity to learn –
silent, age considers action.
(Image mine)
Celebrity bores
I crave sapid exchange – bird
song, sweet and tender
I am past prime – gigs dried up
but nature provides plenty.
(Image mine)
Inessential am I
ghost of a woman
burden avoidance
Imperfect am I
each flaw a step
towards deepening blue
And yet, I exist
purpose unknown
shadow dancing.
(Image: Self-portrait)
Armed with plans
and guidelines, we
ready for life’s climb,
unaware that childhood,
untamed and intact,
takes the lead.
Influence minimal,
once hair turns white
and body slows to sloth
Only words – genderless
and without context
serve to blindside
Last weapon of age.
(Image from created by yours truly.)
Gossamer
that thread,
that sparkle,
that vestige
of my youth
I try to hold on,
gnarly grip
no match for
her exuberance
Hope we reunite
next time around.
(Image from personal collection)
One Woman's Quest 