Public displays seldom tell-all,
Vanity figures performance called for –
a ruse to make the hordes pander.
Clearly fault lies with us, audience
fuelling rhetoric, lapping up the hate.
Give politicians their due, they deliver
souped-up enemies to satisfy our tastes.
(For Reena’s Exploration challenge, where the prompt is the line: Public figures make us hate their enemies.)
Image from personal collection.
Must have been the heat –
lazy August sun reaching
through Willow sway –
or maybe the laughter
bubbling up from brook –
had me so ensorcelled
I swear I saw the veil slip,
beheld faery beings –
a second of enchantment
then gone…
Be as trees, reaching
canopy of harmony,
gratitude implied.
(For RonovanWrites Weekly Haiku Challenge: Â gratitude / harmony. Â Photo from personal collection.)
Late August nights cool
burnt dry hues
will soon transform –
symphony of colour
There is sorrow
in Summer’s end;
Autumn’s icy breath
Winter’s warning.
Silent as the Great Blue,
Autumn hues creep
shifting the landscape
altering my mood.
Do feathers quiver
at the ensuing chill,
or is it merely human
this seasonal affect?
(For Granny Shot It’s Bird of the Day)
Knee-deep wading
in electric yellow waters
of mud-laden stream
the coveted prize –
a mutated version –
Christ’s fish hovers
arms reach away –
have touched it –
recoiled out of fear.
Status is stagnation –
movement stymied
current lacking
Only the constant
thrum of winged
pests 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 incomprehensible?
(Watery Stagnation first appeared in August, 2016, and is edited here.
Said his name was Orion,
“light of Heaven” –
starry-eyed, I succumbed
godlike presence, I believed,
could walk on water –
but his light fast flickered
squelched by insatiable ego,
only thing he walked on
was me…
Little Bear.
(Tuesdays, I share a poem from Twitter @Vjknutson. )
Touching
Resentment
Imbibing
Sadness
Tumbling
Feelings
Underlying
Loss
(In response to Ragtag Community’s prompt for today: Â tristful.)
Idleness is not a ploy
asserted by the river,
her banks, ever vital,
project confidence –
life’s continuum
Her waters, sturdy,
fluctuating, tame
the deepest emotions
I come to the river
hoping to imbibe,
to be intoxicated
in her presence
I come to the river
to be revived.
A spot of red
and dash of yellow
bandana masked eyes
how you transport me
to simpler times –
childhood days
when you and I
wiled away hours
hidden deep
beneath summer
canopies – maple,
beech and willow –
listened for whispers
on the wind,
searched for treasure
on rocky creek bottom.
Years since our paths
have crossed like this,
have you returned
as reminder –
your sweetness
a blessing, now
that I only linger
at woods’ edge?
No matter the reason,
I am content
that we meet again,
my friend of old.
(For Granny Shot It’s Bird of the Day. Â Photo from personal collection.)
One Woman's Quest 