Rock Pool

Is it the stillnessof the rock poolthat draws meagain and again? Authority eludes –is not my own –I dodge hawk-eyedcritics, am weighteddown…strugglingto resurface… Crave tranquilcompany, a chanceto breathe…unseen…Nature always the key (Image my own)

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Perfectionist’s Bane

No matter how I organize the littles – set the unruly to task, orchestrate harmony from chaos – critics dismantle the efforts, find the loose thread and tug… until all is worthless effort.

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Mother Bee

She sprinkles her commentary with spikes of criticism like a bee intent on finding honey but stinging instead strikes hard at the heart of the matter manages to counter my aspirations all attempts to swat away her words are weak – she is my mother and my sentiments are clouded her jabs bite, inflame and […]

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Criticism Be Gone!

I was forty before I could finally ask my mother about her constant criticism of me growing up.   We were alone together, in the car, driving out of town.  I had her undivided attention. “Help me to understand, something,” I prefaced the conversation.  “When I was young, you always told me no one would ever […]

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