I dwell in mediocracy
where Larkspur takes a spotlight
and sunsets enforce sleep
A background figure, I hide
behind mundane assertions,
practice subtlety
Lies I tell myself, of course,
any reader knows – I decry
normality, as passion is my way.
(Tuesdays I borrow from Twitter @Vjknutson. Image my own)
Anticipate salvation –
the stork master
spews cryptic babble
Is there hope to be had?
Don’t speak forked-tongue
cannot decipher the yarn
Suspect time alone holds truth
experience will betray the lies
integrity winning out in the end.
(Image mine)
I trace the fibre
of each of your lies,
note the intricacy
of their overlapping –
marvel at the depths
of your scheming,
still suffering aftershock
of deception’s braid.
(Tuesdays I borrow from my Twitter poetry. Visit me @Vjknutson. Image from personal collection.)
When their hot tongues lie,
I cry bitter milk –
time can rip at friendly water,
blow him from my sea,
though his shot a show –
am so blue,
a bare want,
in those lies dressed.
(Poem inspired by the offerings of Magnetic Poetry online.)
He recalls we were gorgeous,
pleased me like an egg – fast
Why lie to men about
what blow must skin cry?
We are black from mist above moan,
I bare my drive as pink,
sit through summer of aching,
show my gown sweet…
though never did sleep.
(Fridays are magnetic poetry. Find it online at magnetic poetry.com. Love it if you’d join me.)
One Woman's Quest 