Passion for writing ignites my soul's momentum
Dare I confess
the hollowness
of my heart
How emptiness
echoes in its chambers
How lost I feel inside
This is no sanctity
no secure refuge
my withdrawal is a sham
I stand by, observe –
circles entwine, embrace –
recognize the power of love
Practice the words
extend warmth
and retreat, before
connection ignites
convinced as I am
that the vacancy is merited.
(Image from personal collection.)
Unsettled,
worry’s guest –
change binds me,
spineless…
this waiting is venom,
caution enticing,
pursue transformation,
big, small – and diversion
to eliminate the parasites.
Intellect needs a cure,
neediness burdensome –
taking charge messy.
Responsibility my own.
Cigarette butts
no longer linger
concrete, but
I swear the cloud
of smoke lingers,
the sweat of adolescent
anxiety – the suffocating
pressure to comply –
Names escape,
but I remember
smugness and
rivalry, and
the spine-crawling fear
of confrontation,
and indisputable
in my mind
are the scars
of being so alone.
(Written for Twenty Four’s 50 word Thursday prompt. Image supplied by Deb Whittam.)
Circumstances shift –
breath the fertile air –
let dreams fly; expand
embrace change – hope,
now winged, an explorer
bursting with possibility.
I would move this old
body, relocate to new
beginnings, be reborn
but for these internal
trappings – begging for
extermination – retro
shaded memories –
long past expiration –
skewed accessibility,
stretched without purpose,
reconfiguration required –
history a real estate, I need
to unload; who will buy
a drama-laden, single
story alcoholic’s haunt?
Circumstances shift –
sniff the fertile air –
guard forbidden dreams
change, like wings, unfolds
in its own time; be patient,
possibility is taking flight.
(Poem originally appeared August of 2016)
Absence of table
echoes in a room
reserved for its
central role –
I am at a loss,
no explanation
proceeding
this disappearance
have just woken
from a slumber
deep, to this hole
in certitude
grasp for answers
wonder at significance
if I’ve missed signals
question permanence
left with silliness
of chairs, the mockery
of dust – balled
fragments revealed
stand at kitchen counter
nibbling, dubious
unable to relax –
the table is gone.
I wrestle with sleep –
need overpowered by unease,
senses on high alert,
as if a child
trying to intuit
the degree of volatility
in father’s drunken slur
what will it take
to find rest,
to reassure
the littles
that the tyrant is gone
and life will unfold
as it will
without the stress
of constant monitoring.
It’s Monday again –
days passing through
my hands like sand,
no receptacle in which
to catch the granules –
why this sense of urgency?
In high school, I played hooky
wiped away the hours in empty
places, sought answers for
questions I could not articulate,
chased dust while others formulated
dreams – how is this any different?
Am I not just recreating the pattern,
painting over efforts with adult hues,
donning the pretence of self-importance
while occupied with vapid tasks – time
continues to slip by, and what have I
to show for it other than incessant panic?
