Words, like crickets,
leap from my mind – chirping pests whose trajectory eludes my dulled reflexes, scuttling around the periphery of my awareness
in the singular, a cacophony in multitudes threatening to multiply further and destroy any semblance of sanity
I must intuit
their rhythm, define the notes in workable phrases, capture the essence of their meaning and inscribe the message before they disappear again.
first appeared on One Woman’s Quest II, October 2016. Edited for this edition. Image my own.) Pestilence of Words
Sentences refuse to form –
Words, though, bear pairing punch-packed phrases delicate unnervings
Fear grasps the wrist
stunts sentences – thoughts staccato emotions gagging Poetry loosens the grip bundles the mayhem spits it out – births breakthrough
(Image my own)
Why do you write poetry?
Impossible to ignore –
even though I’ve tucked it away there, between the chair and credenza – a life-sized story, waiting to be told.
As much as it compels me
to pay attention, I am repulsed – this is my life we’re talking about
And not just mine –
the tale weaves itself with tragic threads of others and what right do I have to expose that?
And yet, I don’t know
that I have the strength to squash it – this living breathing thing… wandering aimlessly about this house.
(Image my own)
Coordinated by the curator of our local art gallery, the poetry circle partnered with a photographer to create
The Minimalist Eye. Yours truly has two poems featured in the project: Slanted Orange and Big Red.
To see the full exhibition, visit the virtual tour:
So fortunate to be part of a such a vibrant community. As a bonus, the collection has been published.
Quiescent, the river
that flows through me nudged on by a sea I cannot touch
I am bud resisting
the bloom, reluctant.
If this life is spoiler
for what lies beyond, then leave me, dormant…
(Tuesdays, I borrow from Twitter @Vjknutson. Image my own)
Cast my shadow over white banks
assert presence: proud, defiant
Will find beauty in deserted places
and colour in the monochrome
Haunted by a Winter state of mind
resolved to stretch despite chill.
(Image my creation)
Be a vessel – giving and receiving Create ripples Inspire Be present Push through limits Be bliss spreading viral joy
(I’ve started a new project: reading through old journals – mostly griping – to find new messages, new poetry.
This is my first result. Image my own.)
Words, like crickets
leap from my mind chirping pests whose trajectory eludes dulled reflexes, scuttling about periphery of logic
in the singular – cacophony of multitudes threatening to multiply take with them semblance of sanity
Intuit a rhythm
I counsel self to define the notes in workable phrases capture essence and reason message
but the invaders
adverse to linearity disappear beneath the floorboards of my conscious mind.
poem, languishing in my blog archives. Edited, and with an updated title, thought it might be worth a second look. Art my own.)
I feel deeply honoured to be part of September’s issue of Tangled Locks Journal. Thank you to Teresa Berkowitz for accepting my poem,
“Feline”. Please visit me there, and take a moment to peruse all the writing: you won’t be disappointed.
Tangled Locks Journal is published quarterly. Information for how to get involved is available on the site.
Daunting the looming mountainside or the oceanside cliffs whose ascent mocks my limitations
the glint of spidery thread, whose expanse, though delicate, stretches without fear
The way our income curves
downward, while our needs mount
precarious, demanding inevitable, and yet we find ourselves ill-prepared when forced to navigate them.