Tag: poem

Dare I Hope?

Hope glitters
like rays of golden
sunlight piercing
the thick overgrowth
of this life.

Dare I respond,
or is this merely
the sharp deflection
of light on tinfoil
meant to keep
scavengers away?

(Dare I Hope? first appeared three years ago, when the four walls of my bedroom and the mattress I laid upon defined my life.  I have polished it a bit here for my weekly challenge which is “anniversary”.  Looking back to those times, I am able to acknowledge progress and affirm that the hope I was feeling had validity. Featured image is from personal collection.)

Cheer for Spring

Cheer growth
beneath a heavy cloud cover,
Canada goose passes
overhead, while I
wander.

Wander,
behind a veil of rainy grey,
lens poised to capture life,
swallows swoop and
rise up.

Rise up,
over rushing waters, branch high
blackbirds huddle, demand
my attention:
focus.

Focus
reveals newness, buds breaking through,
colours promising that
chilly winds disperse,
cheer growth.

Cheer growth,
behind a veil of rainy grey
blackbirds huddle, demand
chilly winds disperse;
cheer growth.

(Dark Side of the Moon offers this final cinquain challenge:  Garland Cinquain.
Deep thanks to Abigail for teaching us this form.  I have enjoyed the challenge.)

Good Woman

Cater,
Good Woman; keep your pantry full –
there are mouths to feed, and
whims to answer,
smile on.

Smile on,
Good Woman, feed the children young
and old, their needs cry out
for nourishment;
be strong.

Be strong,
Good Woman, tending your oven,
concocting recipes,
born to serve, raised
to please.

To please
Good Woman, be sure your own pot
is overflowing, lest
fatigue sets in,
and then

And then,
Good Woman, who caters to you –
the children are gone and
husband retired –
what now?

(This is a Crown Cinquain written for Dark Side of the Moon’s challenge.)

Keep Imagining

Elaborate, the tree forts
imagination envisions

Indifferent, the rationale
that overpowers inspiration

I balk, abandon hope,
build a wall instead,
forgetting…

Creativity is not linear,
tolerates input, planning,
some alternatives preferred.

(Featured image from personal collection.   Doesn’t it just say:  “Climb me!”?  This image is a Live Oak, in Texas, and is available on various products at Society6.)

 

 

Accustomed to the Dark

Nine months of incubation –
dark, watery womb of life –
emerge to blinding brightness,
learn to covet the light –
yet our soul struggles, defies
ego’s hold on certainty –
fights against conformity,
draws us back to the tomb –
deep into the mysteries,
where discomforted, challenged
we grow accustomed to the dark.

(For Reena’s Exploration challenge, which this week asks us to end our work with: “We grow accustomed to the dark.”  Image from personal collection.)

Choose a Mood

Metal moans
and brake lines squeal
as rubber comes to a crawl –
tie-up on the highway.

Roadside wildflowers flourish,
attract birds and bees alike –
a butterfly floats by, nonchalant.

Tempers flare, impatience inches,
horns no deterrence for maddening halt.

Let me be the butterfly, I pray,
carefree in the midst of such fray.