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.)
Emotions a mess
no security in words
page invites finesse
thoughts tumble, filters falter
longueur of sentences bore.
(Tuesdays I borrow from Twitter @Vjknutson. Image mine.)
I farm reflection
plant seeds of wrath, soil black –
insatiable words
nurtured by mind-storms and rays
of passing enlightenment.
(Tuesdays I borrow from Twitter @Vjknutson. Image mine)
Forgive these ellipses…
mind sputters… lost
in woods… indulge
attempts of emergence…
seeking ambrosia…
within shadowy heights.
(Tuesdays I borrow from Twitter @Vjknutson. Image my own.)
Poet’s mind fragile
images ripe, words lacking
waste of genius
shadows whisper of bathos –
a rewrite is imminent.
(Image mine)
I weave words
with alacrity –
on a mission
Foreign forces
infiltrate brain
cells scrambling
Must write
till ability wanes
thoughts hang
Disconnected
brushed away
like cobwebs
(Tuesdays I borrow from Twitter @Vjknutson. Image my own.)
One Woman's Quest 