relationships · creativity · writing · Love · poetry

How Does the Heart Choose?

Set me on a lonely road
and I will shine –
solitude a strength

And yet, I have an inner pull,
a need for connection,
a longing for depths of love.

But what of these dreams –
do relationships deter direction,
and must I always wait on another?

Intimacy is complicated,
the route undefined,
I am chilled, fatigued

How does the heart decide
when love challenges
arrogance, and fear takes hold?

(Connecting to Eugi’s Weekly prompt: complicated, and Reena’s Exploration Challenge – featured image.)

 

 

 

aging · change · creativity · life · poetry · writing

Is This Still Me?

Was that really me
fought for feminine rights,
eleven-years-old
persistent to the win?

And was that me
lied about her age
strapped on work clothes
bore responsibility?

And did you know her
that obstinate teen
who defied tradition
and chased an education?

Where did she go,
a faint memory now,
how life tamed her,
taught her subservience

to bury her light
in the shadow of men’s
dreams, that toil should be
selfless, and love for other.

Listen, and you will hear
her echo, faint but growing,
the sound of a mind burning,
the laughter of a soul on fire.

(For Reena’s Exploration challenge: Was that really me?, and Eugi’s Weekly prompt: laughter.  Image from personal collection.)

 

 

creativity · life · poetry · spirituality · writing

Blowing Off The Dust

Flagrant this disregard,
this blatant indifference

I have come before you
broken and desperate

and been received with
loving compassion, openness.

“It was not I who abandoned you” –
the words still echo in my heart.

In shame, I hang head, vow
to prepare my spiritual bowl

to resurrect a prayerful practice
to know once again the light,

the life that fulfills when
self is offered up as instrument.

(Ragtag community has offered the word “flagrant” as prompt today.  I have been carrying around scraps of ideas for Reena’s Exploration challenge – featured image.  This poem emerged.  I do not consider myself affiliated with a specific religious body, but I do consider myself a woman of deep spiritual faith.)

aging · change · creativity · culture · life · poetry · recovery · writing

Underestimated

Novice, a word that negates
experience, knowledge, merit –
capability under suspicion.

I novice myself frequently,
as if vulnerability is a sideline
and humility commands denigration.

A tired and weary state –
yes, this is me, new and willing
to learn, but I am not novice.

So before you judge, adjust
your professional spectacles,
snub my potential, hear this:

Value is immeasurable –
unique contributions
enhance collective offerings.

(Reena’s Exploration challenge this week is based on “The Story of An Hour” which challenges us to examine our life and limitations.  I dream over and over again that I have returned to teaching only to find that the years I have put in have been negated by my absence and I have to begin again.  Starting over is not a new theme in my life, but my attitude about is finally changing, as represented in the poem.  Image from personal collection.)

blogging · creativity · poetry · writing

Define Evil

I loathe The Man
whose power bulges
out of waistbands,
whose double chins
wag double talk,
who equates dollars
with immunity,
claims superiority.

Whose dominance
intimidates, so I
duck out of the way,
bite my tongue,
refrain from speaking,
cower in the face
of injustice.

Who, I ask,
is the more evil?

(Reena’s Exploration Challenge this week asks us to respond to the words of Wendell Berry’s Questionnaire. I chose to respond to question #2: “For the sake of goodness, how much evil are you willing to do? “)

blogging · creativity · poetry · writing

Broken Shell

Cocooned, I am
enclosed, secure
shut down

Ignore initial
stirring –
like a skipped
heartbeat

Convinced
this retreat
is cemented

Have had enough
life too harsh
soul too sensitive

and yet, there it is
again – gathering
momentum uninvited

sensations, emotions
morphing into words
commanding expression

growing wings,
battering my barriers
flocking towards light

poems emerge
and I am stripped naked
exposed once again.

(Inspired by the prompts of Ragtag Community: stir, and Reena’s Exploration Challenge who provided the featured image.)

Family · poetry · writing

Was That Really Me?

Was that really me,
signed his life away
fresh-faced, innocent
marched North
then sailed East
to unknown seas?

Fuelled by anticipation,
anchored by camaraderie,
that boy who crawled
through jungle deep
weathered Burma heat
and nightmarish infestations,
adrenaline pumping
infiltrated enemy lines
unarmed, feckless
nursed fears with booze
adopted false bravado.

Was that really me,
that man who emerged
hard-edged, battle-weary,
whose medals of bravery,
buried now, speak more
of loss, and horror
than triumph –

And who is this,
whose rage intimidates
with trigger-sharp precision,
who ravages all that is dear
ideals slaughtered,
hopes destroyed,
whose enemy
now dwells within?

(Today is Remembrance Day.  Spurred by the prompts of Reena’s Exploration Challenge – “Was that really me?”  and Ragtag Community’s “bravery“, I have tried to put myself in my father’s shoes.  He fought for the British Commandos during WWII, and in hindsight, suffered PTSD.)