What is it about summer
eases our defences –
was it lazy, hot afternoons
or smouldering, hazel eyes?
I ask myself again and again,
cannot remember who I was
before I took that fateful risk –
joy of youth extinguished.
(Tuesdays, I borrow from Twitter @Vjknutson. Image my own)
Is the writing on the wall so cryptic?
Graphic images depict rage
flames of dissonance
young men bleeding at their own hands
compassion incapacitated.
A sad awakening
for a society fixated
on rights and privileges,
dominating culture
excluding the nurture
of humanity,
or preservation of life.
How can we continue
to closet our children’s pain –
their vitality oozing –
hopelessly abandoned
by morality’s shelter?
It is the wall,
not the spatters
of blood upon it,
which needs amending –
adolescent minds too tender
to wade through
the cryptic priorities –
messages divided.
(Cryptic first appeared here May 2018. Edited here. Image my own.)
Beneath icy stalactites
youth catches the first whiffs
of love…merges with a kiss
An icicle drops
startles the pair
their euphoria
broken – an omen?
Prelude to love’s
fickle nature…
How coldly lust
looks away…?
(Tuesdays, I borrow from Twitter @Vjknutson. Image my own)
I remember Jasper
how we drove up
in that bolt bucket
drank grape soda
from the dime store
listening to Dylan
How the mountains
echoed our loneliness
the answers we sought
turning us inside out –
I dream of it still.
(Tuesdays, I borrow from Twitter @Vjknutson
Art mine – an early attempt at watercolour)
Dock sitting
past midnight
parental drone
humming in distance
Two silhouettes
haloed in moonlight
I lean in, heart pounding
your lips brush my forehead
Nothing more…
Nevermind! I blurt
scrambling to leave
rejection a soul tattoo
(Tuesdays, I borrow from Twitter @Vjknutson.
Image my own. Care to join me and write about your first kiss?
Drop me a link so I don’t miss it.)
Beneath the willow
a young woman dreams
Harlequin romance
in hand – portrait of
stormy-eyed perfection
Innocence luxuriates
in spicy dreams, awaits
love’s sweeping encounter –
hormones not yet bearing
the bruises of disappointment.
(Tuesdays, I borrow from Twitter @Vjknutson. Image my own.)
If I measure progress
by “used-to’s”
illness and age win
I used to play tennis
speed and muscle
ease of ambition
This place, the nexus
of how life has changed,
teaches me appreciation
Frost in my veins
permanent, warmth
of memories aglow.
(Image my own.
Tuesdays, I borrow from Twitter @Vjknutson)
Here’s a boy, tender
and raw, heart exposed
awkward innocence
blocking intention
Here’s a man, fiery
eyes, hands coarse,
face leather, smoky
words coaxing affection
Here’s a girl, book smart
heart uncertain, romance
a fluttery desire, caught
between the two, torn
The boy averts his eyes
fears she’ll see the raging
in his loins, read obsession
in his longing, reject him
The man takes her hand,
softly traces the outline
of her face, slow, seductive
draws her into his mystery
She is a two-headed lamb
ponders the breadth of
the boy’s shoulders, knows
his future is a srtaight line
Hormones raging at man’s
touch, the way his eyes
devour her, the magical
nuances in his voice
Two paths, she thinks
two diverging outcomes;
the boy holds himself erect
feels his fate is decided
The man lays his head
in her lap, thick waves
of black thrilling her –
a dead-end street
Is it pride that makes
the boy look away, she
wonders, or am I not
good enough, tainted?
She turns to the older
man, smiles, pull him
to her and surrenders,
darkness a familiar place.
(Decided to resurrect this old poem for Eugi’s Weekly Prompt: romance. Image my own.)
Waves lap in rhythm with my heart
midnight sky bewitches, stars sing,
hand-in-hand our spirits soar
pulses dancing to the seduction
of love’s enchantment –
Tonight the ambiance possesses us
tonight boundaries have no hold
we are moon-crazed innocence
warmed by mysterious stirrings
sand shifting beneath naked soles.
(For Eugi’s Causerie Weekly challenge: bewitched. Image my own.)
Youth flaunts her truth
serious in convictions –
that eternity exists
that words carry worth
Folly naturally succeeds
break down – inevitable
the opportunity to learn –
silent, age considers action.
(Image mine)
One Woman's Quest 