Tag: poetry

Chasing Snakes

Who ghosts desire?
I long for a kiss,
my glass belly ice
& concrete clouding
our porcelain peace.

A good woman lingers,
then after voices joy

I, marble angel,
let men like father,
with grass on their hand,
pat eternity,
the door sheer,
timely,

Life!

(Disclaimer:  Fridays I play around online with Magnetic Poetry.  The words are not mine, and therefore; I cannot be held responsible for the outcome…right?! Lol.)

 

The Toll

Am not the woman my children once called Mother –
can see the disappointment in their anger-blotched
expressions, feel the constraint in their voices –

distance between us tugs on my heart, plays with
my conscience, as if illness is choice – a contrived
plot to rob them of their expectations –

hope they can forgive me before it’s too late;
hope they can forgive themselves.

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.)

I Need a Bridge

The gap widens –
the life I’d envisioned
washed away by current
reality – widening span.

I need a bridge –
expansive enough
to carry wishes,
to facilitate movement
of passing ideals,
allow for traffic flow.

Or a bridge to slow me down,
help me re-align, directing
me toward a new road,
encompassing change.

(Image from personal collection.)

As Water Flows

Water flows, and my mind wanders,
relinquishing thoughts and worries.

Water flows, and I surrender
to the blessing of life’s journey.

Water flows, and I acknowledge
the fluidity of emotions, change.

Water flows, and I experience
the continuum of life’s cycles.

(It is Springtime here in SW Ontario, and this is the first morning since we returned that I could get out and photograph one of my favourite places.  I wrote the poem some time ago, and revised here to fit the image.  That’s my shadow on the water’s surface.)

Black Madonna, Revisited

Remember that Autumn,
we drove up to Campbell River,
like teenagers, skipping out of class –
a cackle of women, spiritually forming?

Felt as if we had bided our time, willing
this union to occur – high on anticipation,
giddy that our routine femininity had
been strewn across the barricades
of our socially contrived existence.

We were like lesbian lovers, unafraid
to explore our crevices, our souls
hungering for release…

We were researchers, reinventing masks
adopted in formative years, stretching
our capacity to believe…

awakened by the crones amongst us,
sisters united, standing in the the flood
of our collective herstory, shedding
the padding of our religious upbringing,
teetering on the brink of a lost divinity.

Weavers, once paralyzed by the guck
of patriarchal dictates, fear of ascension
retreating, we broke free, immersed in
Goddess splendour, felt the ecstasy
of true abandonment, were wild women
unrestrained, catalysts for change.

How is it that the passion faded so abruptly –
that motherhood and responsibility, and
the rigours of competing in daily life stripped
away the afterglow, smacked me back into
this rigid self-definition, prayerful, thankful,
yet lacking the empowerment of the island?

Have I stored her somewhere; is there even
a space within me capable of housing such
expansiveness, open to wading once again
in the waters of a lunar deity, wiling to sacrifice
superficiality for the compassionate mystery
of the Black Madonna haunting my memory?

( Black Madonna first appeared here in November of 2016.  I resubmit her (edited)  Art mine)