Strains of “Desperado”
float through my mind
as images of the plague
assault me- this new life
too much, future unforeseeable
caught in a dystopian novel.
(Tuesdays I borrow from Twitter @Vjknutson. Image my own.)
Tag: poetry
Genie Unleashed
Artistic sensibility
hungered by the exquisite
craves expression
The critic guffaws
decries creativity
starves the impulse
Who unleashed
such nonsense,
such magical thinking!
To think beauty
once espied
can be replicated
and by such an amateur
the unskilled hand
an unworthy representative.
But the artist, unleashed
knows only magic –
this genie will not be rebottled.
(Thank you to Reena’s Explorationchallenge, whose prompt line is: The genie is not getting back in the bottle. Art work my own – self-critiqued and found lacking, thank you.)
Defined in Pencil
Blackbirds utter gloom
speak in murmurations
grey blots out sunlight
blurs definition – pencil
contemplates early nightfall.
(Tanka and sketch by yours truly)
Patient, Heart
Happiness worship
an unmonitored highway –
numinous moments
catalyst for earthbound soul –
church impulses, breathe spirit.
(Tuesdays I borrow from Twitter. This poem is in the form of tanka. Image my own.)
Syntax
Behind the veil
of political maelstrom
lies a modicum of humanity
Or, is it humanity is belied
behind a maelstrom of lies,
politics always falling short?
A Convertible Summer
Summer of ’67
British invasion
Canada claiming 100 –
Dad arrives home
in a powder puff
blue convertible.
Back seat sisters
long hair flapping
bellowing along
with 8-track tunes:
Loving Spoonful
“Do you believe in magic?”
I, barely nine
idolizing a sister
sixteen – a model
with go-go boots
and hippie style
Cottaged at Sauble
muscle cars prowling
oiled bodies lounging
and all eyes lit
on sister, and I
wondering at the draw
made castles in the sand.
Surfing the waves
avoiding the baby
whose brash cries
and quick, chubby legs
keep Mom distracted,
I am observer of the life
Neil Diamond is promising:
“Girl, you’ll be a woman soon.”
Ah, to be 9, in summertime
few the cares, and ideas
like popcorn, burst and pop,
forgotten in each watery plunge
still content to be a child.
(A Convertible Summer first appeared here in June of 2018. I submit this edited version for Eugi’s Causerie Weekly challenge: summer. Image my own.)
Reset, Please
We define our lives in acrostics
while nature audits the damage
We bemoan isolation
while Mother exhales
A sigh of hope –
all praying for reset.
(Tuesdays, I borrow from Twitter, @Vjknutson. Image my own.
Keep Compassion Alive
Hope’s a robot
marching along
endlessly sourced
Compassion is flame
ignited by love
kept burning by care
Fear annihilates
dampens the flame
darkens the path
Hope persists
follow her lead
keep compassion alive.
Urgency
I weave words
with alacrity –
on a mission
Foreign forces
infiltrate brain
cells scrambling
Must write
till ability wanes
thoughts hang
Disconnected
brushed away
like cobwebs
(Tuesdays I borrow from Twitter @Vjknutson. Image my own.)
Quarantined Thoughts
Oh, the plans I make –
swept up in sudden quietude –
art, writing, books to read –
creativity leaps with excitement
And yet, there is a somber tone
ringing in my head – an anxious
whirring – reframing solitude
as social aberration…
And in this dance of light and dark
how shall I weave the threads
braid together a semblance of order
find a balance I can live with?
(Inspired by the prompting of Reena’s Exploration Challenge: quarantined thoughts. Image my own.)
