City life, blinding –
isolated cells of artificial
illumination,
ignoring a higher plan –
heaven’s connectivity.
(Written for Willow Poetry’s What Do You See? prompt which is the featured image.)
Tag: poem
Calling
Is this inherent restlessness,
a fiery blue spark
of eternal angst
igniting passion –
a call to write?
(Image from personal collection)
Chaos
There is chaos inside –
of course, there is –
we did not emerge from the womb
fully enlightened…
I release the chaos
brush stroke by brush stroke
word by forming image,
unravel the mystery,
find new depths.
Scars and Survival
Stitches, I’ve had a few
Casts and splinters and slings
Avoided the C-word
Radiation not needed
Surgery did the trick
Some scars invisible
Underlying lesions
Remnants of
Volcanic-sized disruptions
Instinctually I strive
Visualize a better day
Accept life’s challenges
Live with fullness.
(For Reena’s Exploration Challenge: 
Sugar Swirl
Sugar!
Luscious morsels
tantalizing taste buds,
elevating blood counts, craving
sugar!
Sweetness filling
lack, and emotional
high – chocolate as substitute,
sugar…
savour, swallow,
deny empty spaces,
forget no-one ever calls you
Sugar.
(Written for Dark Side of the Moon’s 5-line poem challenge: Â Cinquain Swirl.)
Soon Summer
When dawn,
an earthly murmur,
I walk, light
Soon, heat climbs,
the verdant blanket
grass, rose, blossom
I offer water,
hot, relax.
(Friday is Magnetic Poetry online.)
Cheesy Solution
Creativity’s
an eight-legged
life-sized terror,
has me cornered –
those menacing eyes
and crushing mandibles
paralyzingly frightful –
about to be consumed,
I throw her some cheese.
Watching
Beneath mossy beards
weathered faces watch, listen –
silent witnesses.
(Self) Portrait of a Waitress
Jumbo Jet
they called her –
fast on her feet,
zooming in,
swooping up trays,
delivering with flight
attendant flair.
When did she turn
to autopilot,
stop paying attention
to her destination?
Didn’t she know
she was set
on a crash course,
headed for disaster?
Tried to warn her,
wake her from stupor;
told me she’d reset,
but danger remains.
She is cruising now –
over-sized
turbo-lacking
under-fuelled,
no longer able
to soar – trapped
in a treacherous game.
Waits tables,
tries to keep
a clean house,
caters to others,
lends an ear,
has squeezed
every drop of self
into a low flying life
needs to land
a space of her own,
with room to breathe;
take life in shorter
intervals, refill
her jets.
(Portrait of a Waitress first appeared in April of 2016. Â I am re-introducing it here for Ragtag Community’s prompt: jet.)
Adult Child
So my luck –
father’s favourite child,
me, no boy for him…
he drinks –
thousand morning scold –
knows I respect, make peace
and, you’d think
protect them
star – wishing god
was there, us
together, working it.
(Friday is Magnet Poetry online.)
One Woman's Quest 