Shoulder to shoulder
we contemplate clouds, hunt for
silver, my brother
lost, then found, ponders what ifs –
clouds become threads, unite us.
(Tuesdays, I borrow from Twitter @Vjknutson. Photo mine)
Tag: family
Parental Passages
Carefully we construct
security for offspring –
add luxuries to entertain
accommodate growth
play host to revolving-
door friends and dates.
And yet, we are graded
on performance – met
or unmet expectations –
held up against a stack
of other super parents,
silhouettes of perfection.
Still, we celebrate goals,
sprouting family, ignore
the slanders, and ease
into age with a tad of kook,
or wild inappropriateness –
all expressions of our love.
(First edition of this poem appeared Feb/’18. Image from personal collection. Submitted for Reena’s Exploration challenge, choosing the prompt: silhouette.)
Still Digging
Father, as immoveable
as a mountain
taught us to orchestrate
submontane routes
Circumnavigating
his rocky moods
bestowed upon us
a fear of masculinity
Resilience instilled
the necessity of mining
gold from darkness:
still digging.
(Sketch mine)
Define Family
Define family –
nest of promises, story
filled houses of stone?
Expectations built lacking
substance – original sin?
(Tuesdays I borrow from Twitter @Vjknutson, this tanka edited from original. Image mine.)
Love Lessons
Had a weird sort of lexicon
the man who professed
to be my dad –
Clamped in his chokehold
he’d demand words of devotion
Became inured to this dichotomy –
spent a lifetime searching for love –
Just the right balance of cruelty and kind.
(Tuesdays, I borrow from Twitter @Vjknutson. Sketch mine.)
Spotlights Burn
She amassed children while
he pursued accolades
Family photos display
northern shorelines
tanned faces, white-toothed grins
parents not represented
Lost her childhood
at the bottom of a ravine
laid beaten and shattered
no one came to rescue her.
Guess that’s what drew her
the his light; money, she hoped
would not abandon her.
But muck tracks the same
and children need feeding
and absent a co-parent
she sleeps most days.
Offspring learn independence
a product of adults’ disarray
outlasting the fickleness of fame.
(For Reena’s Exploration Challenge: prompt is the last line of the poem. Image my own.)
Birch Trees (with recording)
Strains of Tijuana Brass flood the yard
while father on bended knee tends
his garden, tiers of stone edged rows
encircling a trio of birch trees.
Father points out birches on Sunday
drives, as if the bark is sacred, leaves
whispering a secret I cannot hear –
stirs in me an indefinable longing.
My husband planted birch trees
there amongst the flower beds –
how the leaves shimmer in sunlight,
how my heart quickens, bittersweet.
Imagine Father seated there, mellow
as he was in old age, angst expended,
tyranny of parenting set aside – understand
love unexpressed dwells in birch trees.
(Watercolour image by yours truly)
A Sister’s Twists
She prepared me for the worst
omission of positives purposeful –
Saving me from disappointment
her justification for inflicted wounds –
Years, I’ve railed against her abuse
pointless since she’s long been a ghost.
Cured
Grandma!
the word wraps me
in bubbly warmth –
an invasion of limbs
impress upon my heart –
best mood-altering
prescription ever!
(Tuesdays I borrow from Twitter. Follow me @Vjknutson. Image from personal collection.)
Looks Matter
Like Mary Quant
sister had the look –
groomed in etiquette,
poise and fine dining
while my boyish antics
merited mixology prep
one destined for the catwalk
the other a life of servitude
She was swank,
I was bistro.
(Image from personal collection)
