A cruel master
the ticking clock
So much potential
Get it done!
I rush past shadows
crumple the pages
failed attempts
mounting
What of dreams?
Of life’s destiny?
How I worship
at the altar of should
Even with positivity
fantastical notions fall short
I argue against uncertainty
meet only disapproval
There is no magic
no pre-destined fame
just dust gathering
the dead are unimpressed.
(Linking up with Reena’s Exploration challenge: follow link for video prompt. Image my own.)
(Disclaimer: I am submitting this poem for Reena’s Exploration challenge: horror. The poem arose from a nightmare, and my be triggering for some readers.)
They always take the back roads,
virginal snow-covered lanes
lined with trees: pastoral views
Unmarked routes, out of sight,
use the innocence of landscape
to blot out their dark intentions
Pristine picture perfect scenes
lull the unsuspecting; breath-
taking vistas: secret keepers
The roads still exist in my dreams
the trees like soldiers, stiff and stark
stripped of their magical allure, now
guard the memories, painted red
with loss of purity; I had not
guessed the danger of woods
child mind incapable of conceiving
what wolves roamed in nature
the blood of their victims crimson
stains forever etched in silhouette
the shrillness of their screams
now silent echoes in the night.
(Secret Keepers first appeared here September of 2016. Art my own.)
Illusory this ideation of separation
intricate the webs that bind us
Politicians focus on the holes
pander to the vacuous –
Seekers resonate with connection
consciousness raising awareness
Remain steadfast protestors
your vibrations wide-reaching.
(submitted for Reena’s Exploration challenge: prompt the featured image.)
Happiness, he says,
is your responsibility
and then…
If you love me enough…
If you showed more appreciation…
If you lost a little weight…
and…
Clearly, not my problem.
Really?
Is it always just me?
(For Reena’s Exploration challenge #151: Is it always me? Image mine)
Are you happy?
The question hits
my gut,
slingshots
down the hall
deadends
at optimism
Of course, I respond.
What else can I say…
Sure life needs tweaking…
I am learning to be better…
I can make this work…
Why? What do see?
Thoughts unspoken
but the bell has been rung…
(For Reena’s Exploration challenge: How far can optimism go? Image my own.)
Carefully we construct
security for offspring –
add luxuries to entertain
accommodate growth
play host to revolving-
door friends and dates.
And yet, we are graded
on performance – met
or unmet expectations –
held up against a stack
of other super parents,
silhouettes of perfection.
Still, we celebrate goals,
sprouting family, ignore
the slanders, and ease
into age with a tad of kook,
or wild inappropriateness –
all expressions of our love.
(First edition of this poem appeared Feb/’18. Image from personal collection. Submitted for Reena’s Exploration challenge, choosing the prompt: silhouette.)
Consciousness commands
a shift of focus
tired of the clash of colours
stimulation overload
my muse is leaning towards
the nuance of black and white
A study of shadows
and shading
and how light
arouses the soul
Speak to me in subtleties
she whispers
in tones suggestive
of hidden depths
I am listening
And so I submerge myself
clear the palette of vibrant hues
and take up the lowly pencil
seek the promise
in a colourless world.
(For Reena’s Exploration challenge: a colourless world. Sketch my own.)
Of cubism,
I am ignorant
yet, I relate
To express
depths of perception
concurrent aspects
Of a multi –
imagined
universe
Or even
to embrace
the possibility
of oneness
in fractured
slices…
I pull apart the pieces
re-create the image
still cannot find the whole.
(Reena’s Exploration challenge this week is cubism, a subject I know nothing about, but it does seem to fit with this self-portrait I’ve been working on. Synchronicity in action.)
Hold my words
up to your lens –
exchange snippets
distracted lives
hold no audience
I seek a way home.
(Reena’s Exploration challenge invites us to write a cryptic poem. Image my own.)
One Woman's Quest 