Too young to understand
ethos of beauty regimes
she rejects girlish rituals
sees beauty in nature
in glitter of make-believe
This abnegation of grooming
not rebellion, but appreciation
a nuance that escapes
Mother’s frustrated efforts.
(My granddaughters balk at having their hair done, something that drove me crazy as a parent, but now reminds me of myself as a child. One generation removed, I view the issue from a new perspective. Image from personal collection.)
Didn’t have to say it –
read between the lines,
the “and you too”
as an afterthought
pathetic attempt to
cover truth – ugly
I was, unlike sisters
whose beauty raved
Only in flashbacks,
time gifting objectivity
do I see it wasn’t true –
depth shines through.
(Image from personal collection.)
Painted skies whisper
a nightly farewell – silent
beauty speaks volumes.
(For RonovanWrites Weekly Haiku Prompt Challenge: beauty & quiet)
Water flows, and my mind wanders,
relinquishing thoughts and worries.
Water flows, and I surrender
to the blessing of life’s journey.
Water flows, and I acknowledge
the fluidity of emotions, change.
Water flows, and I experience
the continuum of life’s cycles.
(It is Springtime here in SW Ontario, and this is the first morning since we returned that I could get out and photograph one of my favourite places. I wrote the poem some time ago, and revised here to fit the image. That’s my shadow on the water’s surface.)
Natural beauty
stops the heart, disrupts breathing
instills reverence.
(Photograph taken in Arizona at the Bryce Thompson Arboretum State Park last Spring. Modified with Befunky.com. Submitted here for Manic Mondays 3 way prompt: reverence.)
Nature’s artistry
inspires awe –
jewelled throats
and iridescent curves
Calming hues
and contrasts
that buzz with
dedicated passion
The vibrancy of wings –
intricate detailing –
orange floating
on unseen hands.
(Lens-Artists Photo Challenge is: small is beautiful)
Spring willow
aspiring to yellow
wispy curtains
graceful queen
my heart bows
to your majesty.
What corridor is this?
What beckoning –
wordless
sublime…
is this awakening
or does death
posture
in shadows…
my heart yearns
mourns …
to be absolved
of this strife
Let me surrender
let Grace guide
uncertain limbs
carry me…
I am ready…
She is beauty defined –
the flash of deep brown eyes
a wry smile: suggestive, inviting,
she tilts her head, black tresses
cascading over silken skin, and
men flock, eager to bask in her
sweetness, catch the ray of a smile.
She taunts me, mocks my insecurity –
an easy target for one so self-assured –
ridicules my values, my labour, shreds
any sense of self-respect, and then,
with a the flip of a manicured hand,
shrugs it off, invites me for lunch.
I acquiesce, an unwitting stalker,
mesmerized, angry; she is poison,
recognizes my ambitions – I am fish
nibbling at her bait, disregarding
menace – oppressed by feminine
power, born undesirable, will vomit
her rejection and still come back
for more – a willing victim, adverse
to offense, failure certain, hooked.
One Woman's Quest 