art · creativity · poetry · writing

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.)

creativity · poetry · writing

Melding

I have ventured
into your atmosphere
slipped my skin
your skin
and discovered
a universe
thoughts
emotions
beliefs
blending
into a physical dance
of light and shadow
nuances of colour
delineating life

At our core
we are light
leaning into mystery
cellular interpretations
of a symphony
we cannot hear

Compassion extended
mind altered
we meld.

(A free flow poem in response to Reena’s Exploration challengeAs Above .  Click on link to view video.  Image my own.)

 

creativity · culture · current affairs · poetry · writing

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.)

creativity · poetry · writing

Thanks for Reading

This platform is shaky,
I must confess,
built of co-dependent aims
carnival life expectations.

Still a steady hand
and a weeping heart
good writing companions make
or, so I tell myself

You see, despite clever musings
I’m as guilty of denial as the next
and as far as clarity goes
I’ve been myopic forever

Guess, I’m trying to say
that without an audience
I’d be nothing – and so to you
this blogging community – gratitude.

(For Reena’s Exploration challenge:  Writer’s platform/ reality; and Eugi’s Causerie Weekly Prompt: gratitude.  Image my own.)

creativity · mental-health · nature · photography · poetry · writing

Blue Sky Moment

It was birdsong
stopped me in my tracks
distracted as I was
by pandemics
and ceaseless worry
I looked up

I looked up
and there was glory
white blossoms
triangulated
against endless
blue sky

Blue sky
like a messenger from afar
lifting my spirits
stirring longing

It was birdsong
stopped me in my tracks
I looked up and understood.

(This poem, inspired by the photo I took on a recent walk, was written for Reena’s Exploration Challenge.  I borrowed the line “messenger from afar”.  Image mine)

 

childhood · dreams · life · recovery · writing

Childhood Home

The place remains in my dreams
like a movie set preserved…

Have assigned each room
a critique – disclosed the crimes

Yet, it remains, like a beacon
draws me to it, begs reflection

What if I could go back
now that I can breathe

Now that I’ve laid claim to maturity
would I discover a sudden windfall

makeover conditioned motifs
reevaluate ceiling heights

with resources to remodel
heart open, connected

might I uncover abundance
like a personal embrace.

(For Reena’s Exploration Challenge: featured image.)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

creativity · culture · poetry · writing

Spotlights Burn

She amassed children while
he pursued accolades

Family photos display
northern shorelines
tanned faces, white-toothed grins
parents not represented

Lost her childhood
at the bottom of a ravine
laid beaten and shattered
no one came to rescue her.

Guess that’s what drew her
the his light; money, she hoped
would not abandon her.

But muck tracks the same
and children need feeding
and absent a co-parent
she sleeps most days.

Offspring learn independence
a product of adults’ disarray
outlasting the fickleness of fame.

(For Reena’s Exploration Challenge:  prompt is the last line of the poem.  Image my own.)