Waiting in the wings
absent an audience
what play will unfold
when the next curtain rises –
and who will hold centre stage?
(A tanka for Reena’s Exploration challenge in which she references Shakespeare’s: “All the world’s a stage….”. Image my own.)
Sensing foulness of mood
they slither out from dark places –
whirling wisps of putrid insinuation
Clever they are, and almost imperceptible
but I am clever also, have succumbed
one too many times to the deceit
will not be played by the mutterings
prodding me to find fault with others
to claim myself unjustly wronged.
With the force of a mountain
I stand fast, repel the daemons,
command uncompromising clarity.
Hissing with disappointment,
the spineless creatures retreat,
disappear to plot their next attack.
(Tonight’s prompt at dVerse comes from Jilly who challenges us to write about the unseen. I am also including this post in Ragtag Community’s challenge: play.)
Days of building forts
and armies of friends
passing time in imaginary
kingdoms – pretending
to understand the politics of
adulthood.
(Today’s NaPoWriMo challenge is to write about playing.)
Tender as a fledgling, angelic
curls confrontational, she bears
emotions with courage, femininity
unkempt, pridefully engages
creatures – pests to most – believes
in messengers, blessed with manna,
heaven-sent; draws her strength
from within, a daring soul, plunges
deep, pursues wholeness – cherished
vulnerability, unpolished, loyal
mimics nature, her innocence persuasive,
fear and protectiveness retreat, helpless
in face of the adventures that call to her;
she is submerged, infiltrating enchantment,
unruly – does not measure progress by scars
unaware of wounding, responds only
to the magical sense of play – a limbo –
instinctively trusting, sweet, views the
world from perches treetop high, wills
herself to fly with dragonfly wings.
In time, innocence will be intercepted
by practicality: Fate’s swift hand cutting
her down, she will be victim, react to
adversity, learn to mother, the wildness
of her youth chiseled by expectations
She will learn to wade through swamps,
acknowledge pain and her own inadequacy,
overcome and face life anew, the memory
of a freer time, a more wily self, fleeting –
the child in her more myth than memory.
(Photo from Pinterest, attributed to:
Joanne Quirante Escober)
One Woman's Quest 