Passion for writing ignites my soul's momentum
These barriers –
iced over sentiments
barbed-wire wounds –
How do we reconcile
when questions
resist answers?
What remains
to be solved?
I retreat into misery
Should never have allowed
heart to even hope –
Belle, you torture me so.
(Tuesdays, I borrow from Twitter @Vjknutson. Image my own.)
She prepared me for the worst
omission of positives purposeful –
Saving me from disappointment
her justification for inflicted wounds –
Years, I’ve railed against her abuse
pointless since she’s long been a ghost.
Natural light preferable
to artificial – not the harsh
fullness of noonday sun
but softly filtered rays –
luxurious, inviting.
Love too, should be subdued,
gentle as a zephyr, not mythical
but yielding, mindful;
not worshipful nor boastful,
but comforting, warm
I am waning light,
the mistral wind wafting,
no longer a force of nature –
but smoke, spiralling,
vanishing into non-existence
And yet, even as shadows
spread, I yearn –
heart beating true,
not lost, not forgotten,
but withdrawn, humbled
passion mellowed
by toil of constructing walls –
grit and tar – scar’s long buried,
save the limping gait
of a ghost.
(Poem first appeared here July, 2018. I am resubmitting for Ragtag Community’s prompt: humble. Image from personal collection.)
We’ll buy a boat,
he promised,
spend our days adrift
on a sea of possibilities.
So, she waited,
tethered her hopes
with ropes of whimsy
to a future with sails.
But years passed and
time revealed that words
hold no water, and lies
are no vessel for love.
Now, she contemplates
oceans, photographs
sailboats, docked –
possibilities set aside.
We grow our world
under evening light,
all soul charm and dance –
he a gentle father,
nice guy, quiet…
I believed.
But when search neared,
touchy – see a former ruse,
one smile warmed and…
sod off!
(Friday, I visit Magnetic Poetry online – words not my own, but I take responsibility for the construction. Image from personal collection.)
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.)
Blamed Father for this strife,
how he twisted and spun our life,
seldom paused to give a thought
for the many wars that he fought –
how conflict made us victims all
veterans who from favour did fall.
(Tuesday is Twitter poetry day. Visit me @Vjknutson.)
Caught relaxing –
ignorant sleep,
treacherous faith
beneath security
salvation preyed upon,
skin-crawling danger
support ill-gotten
rescuer threatening
outcome beastly
misunderstood
I am off-work,
harassed
refuse light
failed legs
kicking back
enemy projects
feigns warmth
damage protected.
I’ll compromise
exert smiles
exit and breathe.
(Today we attend a memorial service for a friend. My former co-workers will be in attendance including one who tried to stir up trouble for me in my absence. Grant me strength. I’m linking this up to Reena’s Exploration Challenge which is compromise.)
How broken those with blue hearts
who embrace only poison breezes.
I dance rhythmless,
lingering on an almost stout word
men need cool from voices
baby, girly, cat, no eternity fare
I devour the salty note
bit life surrounding that din.
(Fridays are magnetic poetry)
Daughters ride
emotional escalators –
while sons prefer
a higher ground –
more attic than sound,
motivations vague
Parents observe,
bite tongues
wish they had a key
to disengage lethargy,
ignite reason –
and turn the volume
down on drama.
