Does Robin feel the flutter
of fledglings incubating
beneath her downy breast
And does her heart soar
with thoughts of little beaks
soon to be agape with hunger?
How carefully she tends her nest
nature or nurture, I do not know
but the miracle remains the same.
(For Eugi’s weekly challenge: flutter. Image my own.)
Words are not my own
wits hapless
That rendezvous
with the devil
sealed it –
Free will for love
I’d bargained
Ache of loneliness
too much to bear –
Now I’m just a puppet
ventriloquist’s dummy
Ask a question
watch him work my strings.
(Image my own.)
Mother hovers
like a dragonfly
her helicopter
expectations
slice through
my endeavours
I am an unsung note
set on rotate
waiting for an opening
to flee the slaughter.
(Image my own.)
Followed the wind –
a child without boundaries –
Experience, especially hardship
clipped those wings
Lost faith in the wind,
pushed against her flow
Till nothing was left of me
fight diminished by final blow
The wind, though, she persisted
picked up my diminished spirit
tossed me in her whimsical way
rekindled the child.
(Image my own.)
Clouds bundle
shift and fold
cotton strata
Trees huddle
confidence in
community
Emotions stack
one on another
co-mingling hues
Beneath layers
an eternal glow
sun certainty.
(For Reena’s Xploration Challenge: layers. Image also represents the prompt – layers of photoshopping.)
Mom said sh’e leaving Dad
can’t take it anymore
we move.
Relocate. Reset.
Bullying at school out of control
can’t take it anymore
we move.
Relocate. Reset.
Truancy a problem
then the rape
school says I have to go.
Relocate. Reset.
Sister move back home
one unhinged, the other battered
Moms says it’d be better if I leave.
Relocate. Reset.
Shuffle boxes from relationship
to relationship, change careers
like hairstyles – is this boredom?
Relocate. Reset.
Never did grow roots
too good at packing up
trouble comes…
Relocate. Reset.
Tell you more, but we’re about
to pull out, the road is calling…
you know how it goes…
(Relocate. Reset. first appeared here in December, 2017. I am submitting it here, edited, for my weekly challenge: I’m bored. All welcome to join in. Image my own.)
To compensate
for the obnoxious
exuberance
of my flame
I attempt
to oversimplify
Oh dear!
Seems I’ve failed
again…
(As a young woman, obnoxious was the word beaus used when breaking up with me. The poem says the rest. Art my own.)
It’s Monday again –
days passing through
my hands like sand,
no receptacle in which
to catch the granules –
why this sense of urgency?
In high school, I played hooky
wiped away the hours in empty
places, sought answers for
questions I could not articulate,
chased dust while other formulated
dreams – how is this any different?
Am I not just recreating the pattern,
painting over efforts with adult hues,
donning the pretence of self-importance
while occupied with vapid tasks – time
continues to slip by, and what have I
to show for it other than incessant panic?
(Wasted Time was first published February, 2017. I resubmit here for my weekly challenge: the chase. Image my own.)
Full moon vibes
stir the mood
Dogs restless
sleep evasive
Dangerous inklings
plague the mind
Evil dons the face
of sympathy
Opaque beneath
despair’s howling.
(A dark poem from Twitter Tuesdays @Vjknutson. Image my own.)
When did guilt obviate
the need for sustenance?
This deipnophobia paralyzing
heartless stares dredge up
my truth: insatiable hunger
need to stuff down emotion
the certainty that I deserved
the abuse – endless shame
My fork traces the outlines
separates food groups
My mind makes mental notes
of what I’ll gorge on later.
(Deipnophobia is the fear of dining in public. I watched my older sister avoid eating when with others, and then gorge afterwards. I had not known there was a term for it until I came across this prompt. Image my own.)
One Woman's Quest 