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
Fragile,
the glint of
spidery thread,
whose expanse, though
delicate, stretches without fear
The way our income curves
downward, while
our needs
mount
Life’s slopes
precarious, demanding
inevitable, and yet we find ourselves
ill-prepared when forced to navigate them.
Pain.
I push against it
challenge it
A warrior intent
on proving
I am…
indestructible
unwilling
to flinch
Convinced
that denial
equals power
Except, it gnaws
at my edges
tears me down
bit by bit
Just as I prepare
to succumb…
clarity
…this is invitation
…surrender is a gift
…pain is passage
I let go
absolve myself
of the need….
(Pain first appeared on One Woman’s Quest II in June of 2016.
It has been edited here. Art my own.)
I am orange
in a monotone clime
radiant against
a melancholic backdrop
a poem within
a droning monologue.
(Tuesdays I borrow from Twitter @Vjknutson. Art my own.)
Chronic this pain
finite the energy
fuels each day
Ability to wonder,
marvel at nature –
without limits
Thoughts, like leaves
break away, swirl
float on the wind –
I am at one
with possibility
free to create
(Tuesdays, I borrow from Twitter @Vjknutson. Image my own)
Past love’s deadline
wolves no longer prowl
vultures, smelling rot,
circle overhead, plot
My essence is solitary
feather fallen between
wide-eyed expectancy
and maturity’s abyss
Abandonment or neglect
I truly cannot say…
(Tuesdays I borrow from Twitter @Vjknutson. Image my own.)
The pages of this life
bound by aging leather
gilded letters cracked
intended meaning
long forgotten
No images adorn
the weathered face
the colour faded
shade of auburn
like my hair
once upon a time
Spine still sturdy
threads fraying
corners curling –
indicators of
a life well read.
(Written for Reena’s Xploration challenge #176. Image my own.)
This year the plague came
and I blamed the wind
for carrying destruction
and I blamed the sun
for its ineptitude
and the rain,
no friend of mine,
only served to drown
my expectations.
Lockdown
and social distance
masks and antiseptics
how was a soul
to survive?
Pushing 2020
out the door
certain relief
would follow
but change is not
a date on the calendar
a release of circumstance
I turned inward
faced the gloom
and found a spark
forgave the weather
the virus, the news
In 2021, I woke up…
(For Reena’s Exploration challenge: I woke up in 2021… Image my ow
To chronicle a life
to extract truth
separate skin from soul
in search of essence
I try to listen
to the rhythms
diagram a blueprint
am discombobulated.
(Tuesdays, I borrow from Twitter @Vjknutson. Image my own.)
Tripping over guilt
how I need to make amends
Meanwhile, charity
leaves me vulnerable
Lose credibility,
momentum
No longer a pick up for others
ditched without a lifeline
***
These are but feelings
I’m more comfy couch
than utility vehicle
and credibility –
well that’s earned
Pick myself up
wade through vulnerability
grateful for giving hands
some amends best left
to the lessons gained
guilt not worth the trouble.
(Much of my poetry is derived from dreamwork. Dreams use exaggeration and humour to evoke understanding. In this poem, I am able to see both at play, leading me to the more empowering response. Thanks for reading. Image my own.)
One Woman's Quest 