Butterflies
In essence, you are neither lover nor demon, but the temperate wind stirring my sorrowful past – conduit of unrest. (Tuesday, I borrow from my Twitter poems. Visit me @Vjknutson.)
Read MorePassion for writing ignites my soul's momentum
In essence, you are neither lover nor demon, but the temperate wind stirring my sorrowful past – conduit of unrest. (Tuesday, I borrow from my Twitter poems. Visit me @Vjknutson.)
Read MoreScarred existence seeks a patience born of peace Cannot find the path tainted ruts of blood line a minefield. (Poem originally appeared on Twitter. Visit me @Vjknutson. Image from personal collection.)
Read MoreTreading water where barracudas swarm, inject a drop of kindness incite a ravenous threat Quick the decision to bail, shed contamination, resulting terror – shame exposed. Now tread slough longing floored robed in foreboding trembling in shadows. (I have made poor choices in my life, which still haunt my dreams. My therapist says to focus […]
Read MoreSporting crisply pressed regrets and tight-assed judgments, the past happened upon me, caught me mid-mediocracy, eye-balled me with a sneer, and then strolled on by as if I wasn’t even worth a ‘hello’. Wait a minute, I cried out trying to pull myself together, noting too late, my lack of grooming, how unfairly I’d been caught […]
Read MoreAge masks the depth and breadth of ability – houses more than anticipated room for expansion, however; current state of disrepair – walls buckling, wiring faulty, and security systems failing – compromises output. Old holds a certain charm, character well-earned, but it would be useful to install a mechanism for locking out the past – […]
Read More(Written for Ronovan Writes Haiku Challenge: poison & past)
Read MoreWhat lies ahead, when pain has clouded the past and fear is choking the present? Is it possible to glimpse the future without projection, without prejudice, or do we need to clear the heart before we can be guided by hope?
Read MoreWhat purpose is served in going back – and yet, I find myself revisiting, expecting what? Revelation… apology… renewal… I am no more than a guest in history’s halls powerless to undo the drama, only risk further complications. Past equates with inequity, no point turning on the faucet of resentment unleashing floods of anger. Best […]
Read MoreSleeping alone – so intrusive – a child born of so many intentions awash in a trail of barricades I cope, cook up breezes, strike wet ground, stuff myself to satiate the onslaught ground rapidly shifting – Earth Mother exerting presence – too stubborn, I turn away Look for God, but my cup keeps moving […]
Read MoreI carry my past in a long, white sack – canvas like a sailor’s – as if my life depends on it… or a laundress toting bundles, tied with string, promises of toil and recompense to come. My contents are not sustainable, though, only sorry tales, entangled woes mutated into plastic figurines, more comical than […]
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