Tag: fear

Spontaneity vs Stagnation

Spontaneity craves opportunity,
ignores setback – will not wait,
prepare – is ready, it sweetness
a charm, luring and strangling.

Just rumours, this rage-tired hurt
calculating appearances, facade
ambition-not-happening deters all
hope of aid; organization could be

an opening – regulate responses,
indicate good things happening
in the wings, projecting warmth –
the fear is discovery, stepping out

from comfort – creativity is willing,
intelligence on board – vulnerability
pervades, adds to the conversation,
lacks wind – manipulation, criticism

all plot to dissuade – what peace is
there in exposing identity?  Persona
needs overhaul, sorry energy resists
change, only hope the assurance of

quick-witted bravado – preference is
to let someone else reign, continue
absence – force is needed to propel
this anxiety-heavy body, exuberance

would breathe life, crush self-serving
put downs, fear of disappointment,
and telltale self-image; ignore the
riotous ‘no’ and oust the narcissist.

(Image: mamiverse.com)

Watery Stagnation

Wading knee-deep,
electric yellow waters
of mud laden stream

the coveted prize –
a mutated version –
Christ’s fish hovers

within arm’s reach;
have touched it –
recoiled out of fear.

Status is stagnation –
movement stymied
by lack of current.

Only the constant
thrum of a winged
pest’s belligerence

punctures stillness,
irritates, its hard –
shelled turquoise

body reminiscent
of Halcyon days,
Caribbean sunsets.

What evil virus has
cemented me here
strangled nomadic

dreams, mired me
in polluted waters
imbued with cruel

uncertainty; faith-
less; immobilized
by juxtaposition?

(Photo courtesy: grist.org)

Haunted Corners

There’s a place, at the intersection
of break downs and choices ahead,
where I have ownership, but avoid.

Courage resides there, and other
parts of self unnamed – I haunt
the place by night, intrigued by

the camaraderie, lack the guts
to venture into the unknown –
decidedly a criminal element;

need a sense of adventure to aid
escape, squeeze me past seedy,
neglected, cracked pane spaces;

lack wheels, coordinates confused –
am located who knows where –
war for independence my identifier.

In daylight, I am redeemed, visited
by semblances of normalcy, sweet
offerings of obligation, distraction;

revel in youth’s exuberance, pretend
that gifts of kindness sustain me,
ignore the relentlessness of corners.

Need A Road To Follow

Heading somewhere,
chauffeur unreliable –
treacherously absent
direction – any road

would be better than
these curb-hopping,
tendencies, head-on
into snowy banks –

Common sense –
usually a stabilizer –
is off duty, lacking
appropriate attire,

his willowy, tree-like
composure relaxed;
nonchalantly shrugs
off the current drama.

It’s not that I don’t
have dreams – have
birthed projects –
lack the stature to

move beyond the
laneway, ambition –
reduced by concern –
imagining catastrophe

death by recklessness,
or worse, attacked by
loyalty – vicious end
to a goal-less journey.

House of Horrors

If life is an amusement park,
then I, the wary visitor, purse
clutched to body, peer about
anxiously, rattled by crowds;

an overprotective parent,
herding my delighted flock,
reigning in wandering feet,
responsibility a stern cloud.

Childlike minds thrive under
blinding lights, the violence
of sounds, smells of cotton
candy sweetness: promises

of thrills, will lead me into
House of Horrors, where I,
lungs burning, heart dying
will plead for escape, run,

abandoning my charges
unable to separate fiction
from lived terror, reveal
my weakness, collapse

while the children, bent
on adventure will thrive
unphased by implications
of real life carnival rides.

Conflict of Peace

We are peacemakers,
declaring commitment;
celebrating life, diversity.

We stand at the water’s edge,
contemplate forever, pray for
serenity, believe in harmony.

Watch as past dalliances,
like old lovers, drift away,
become memories forgotten.

We are supporters, lift up
the down trodden, extend
hearts and hands in aid.

Rescuers, fearless vessels
surfing the ocean of tears
saving lives for the cause.

Withdrawal is preferential
to conflict, introspective
in our peace-loving stance.

We are hosts, expecting
hospitality, unprepared
for hostility, taken aback

Submission lost to fear;
partnering with revenge
spoon out poison, turn

the tables, defend sanctity,
reposition selves as victims
flee our former stance; attack.

Alarmists engage in paranoia,
see only turbulent skies at
the water’s edge, disbelieve

We must hold fast to ideals,
embrace humanity’s potential
be responders, not reactors

Recover our sanctity, reunite
in a vision of peace, remember
that celebration trumps strife.

(Image: marketplace.secondlife.com)

Reticent Poet

Find me in the audience,
three rows back, amidst
enthusiasts, humbled by
your expertise, perched,

questions burning tongue,
too reticent to find a voice,
afraid of being discovered,
ridiculed, or misconstrued,

as if you found my poetry,
see only the images formed
there, miss the raw emotion.
I’d want to scream “Stop!”

Too many polished writers
whose words, in black and
white, float through the web
while mine are immobilized

Yet, I return, hungry to feast
from the same banquet, miss
what is being served up, as I
have no plate ready to receive.

Absence

Slippers, perched at night stand,
twitching impatiently,
mark the absence of feet,
cannot appreciate the meaning
of unruffled bed covers.

Abandoned, a coffee mug
bemoans its curdling contents,
complains of thick brown lines
contaminating its porcelain shine,
has not noted absence of hands.

Chair, pushed back from desk,
in partial rotation, sits awkwardly,
commanding attention, disturbed
by its misalignment, has not thought
to ponder absence of body.

House, uncomfortable with silence
creaks unnaturally, loudly voicing
objections to the absence of footfalls,
automated machinery and incessant
rings, beeps, and chimes of technology.

I try to reassure them that the absence
is only temporary, that the man whose
presence so strikingly fills this space
will return,  hope they cannot read
the apprehension in my tremulous heart.

The Ocean Awaits

This old house wraps itself around me,
radiates the warmth of memories,
a solid testament to the passage of time,
offers space to grow,
a hospitable and loving place,
I am safe here.

In my dreams,
the ocean awaits,
a rhythmic keeper of time,
reflecting clouds, moonlight,
raging with the storms,
in quiet times, calming –
a blessed, imaginary,
companion.

The rains have come,
swamped our intentions,
forced us indoors,
inconvenienced play,
turned our solid ground
to clay – a soggy tribulation –
they will subside
and new growth
will follow,
I tell myself.

I am an eternal student,
in love with life,
education unfinished,
a stumbler,
not a scholar,
temporarily lost,
seeking direction
in unfamiliar territory.

I am a neophyte,
longing for guidance,
recognizing my vulnerability,
a delicate balance this
emotional wading,
mindfulness needed.

I project the mud of the past
see only insurmountable hills
outside these walls,
anticipate setbacks,
fear a lack of tenacity  –
abhor my own ugliness;
rally myself with hopes
of solid footing ahead
and the ocean beyond.

On the other side of madness
stands a mighty fortress –
a castle to hold court –
we have all passed that way,
the passage is well-marked,
communally served,
I have committed
to the descent, am
Earth’s child.

Life is but a station,
a temporary stopping place,
we are all time travellers –
destinations varied –
called to take action,
choose a route.

I have been distracted,
missed signals,
opportunities,
find myself left behind
shamed, alone, uncertain,
aborted my search,
preferring retreat
need to reorient.

The kingdom harbours
an abundance of offerings,
sustenance abounding,
fruitful, flourishing
delights, uniquely
appealing, perhaps
an acquired taste.

Spring, like a faerie nymph,
draws me in, a harbinger,
hopeful, playful, promising
new adventures,
calling me to indulge
in fantasies, dine on
wild imagination,
recreate myself.

I am wondering
if I can accommodate,
fulfill my soul’s longing
know the wonders of
heaven, play host
to the mysteries of beauty
without ever leaving
the warmth of this old house.

The ocean calls me,
from the dream time,
will not let me sleep –
her tidal pull a magnet
for this weary sojourner,
beckons me to rise,
to strive, to succeed.
She is my destination.