Passion for writing ignites my soul's momentum
Considering refurbishingchildhood home Unrecognizable nownumerous makeoversand even re-purposing But my heart is investedand well, I can see potentialand, oh…I know it will take work All the walls I’ve torn downand the excess furnitureand how I’ve imagined duplicity Is this folly on my partthis revisionist thinkingsee…I’m sure there is treasure hidden amongst the forgottenburied perhaps in […]
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Do we have to be awayto find home? Not the mortgagedtwo cars in the drivewaydouble-income kind of dwelling I’m talking peacein the heart, comfortin the soul, blessed home I have felt Presencein nature, witnessed Spiritin a newborn’s eyes beheld reverence in a dyingsister’s final breath – fleetingglimpses, nothing solid I seek an eternal senseof belonging, […]
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Life shiftsI compartmentalize Delusionout the door This path –suffering –not mine alone Limitationshave merit Minimizingall the rage – Less expectationmore distraction Creativity invitesnew vision A playful lifeessential! (For Eugi’s Weekly prompt: playful. Art my own.)
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Way forwardbut a foggy trail Who coined thesethe Golden years? Light a candlewill you…better yetone for each year… that should illuminatesomething… (Image my own.)
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She rises from the river –a culmination of my prayers and tears, I suppose Eyes glow with a ungodly hungerIs she predator or night prowlerI wonder, frozen from fright Disinterested in ego, ignoringperfection, she multipliesher energy frenetic I try to harness her,tame the primal, raw forcefear I cannot house her But she is no one’s […]
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Chronic this painfinite the energyfuels each day Ability to wonder,marvel at nature –without limits Thoughts, like leavesbreak away, swirlfloat on the wind – I am at onewith possibilityfree to create (Tuesdays, I borrow from Twitter @Vjknutson. Image my own)
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Endings berry-colouredsentimentsresting on a shelf Nostalgiadoesn’t give a lickabout failurescherishes emotion No amountof cunning can erasethe sweet taste of first love. (Image my own)
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I try to scrape history from stonereassemble words on vellum –bravado pretending release Pick my mentors from amongstthe enlightened, willing osmosis –ego avoiding blood: grit of change (Art my own)
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That time, playing in the muck,foot emerging without boot,hopping and laughingall the way home. Then, later, on the busthat car hitting where we satthe windshield crackinglike a giant spiderblood all over the dead lady’s face. I thought I’d made itwhen my new car had a sunroofkids riding along, music blaring But trauma is a spiderArachne […]
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Has no jugularsandstone gritkeeps his hellwell barricaded She is melodybeauty flowingsees only light Classic tragedyabout to unfold. (Image mine)
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