Seemingly innocuous suggestions–
hints, gently corrosive, then demands. Shunned
and poked fun if you stand unmuzzled, free
unpuzzled by shifting narratives. Trees
and ferns, the waters flowing in the lake,
birds, blossoms, fish. Which myth panders heartbreak
and which inspires? False premises at stake
impetuous humanity mistakes.
Ancient adventure spells out corrections.
Our passion calls, we fall. Imperfection
laughs: try again. An herbal remedy
in love a hummingbird mirrors esprit.
This intense vitality speaks through me
heart-opening. I stand sovereign, be
poised warrior-woman unafraid and sound
in all the noise, holding this sacred ground.
Inspired by: Innocuous, Adventure, Herbal and Pander.
Stacked sympathy cards lie like a stymie
in the line of play. Victims cry, why me,
finally see how they screwed up, fooled around.
The accusations fly, the guilt abounds.
Here in my path of service, aiming high
I praise morning, stare into glary sky.
I’ve learned I’m ever in the place I need
to be, intuitive vigilance heed.
Each wise whispered heart-voice counsels to still
and in creative space, imagine, drill
past all the seeming obstacles. The shag
untidy begs a second glance. Tool bag
brimming, I center, ground and breathe. Expand
beyond constraints of time. At my command
joy rises, flavored by the grief. This pain
I savor, so intense yet brief, free rein.
Inspired by: Screw, Stymie, Shag and (featured image) the ongoing visitation by beautiful white flying beings, which bring my mother into my presence with great joy.
This culture seems designed to vitiate
morals my path forward delineates.
A whirlwind of fear produces anger.
I’m scapegoat at their disposal, gangsters
united, throwing bricks. Malleable light,
I change swiftly as perceptions alight,
informed by spirit messengers who dine
and bless the air in sacred signs align.
Featured image a gorgeous huge white egret visited yesterday after I made so much of a tiny white moth. As if my deceased loved ones sending messages said, A moth? Pshaw. Hold my beer…
Inspired by: Brick, Whirlwind, Disposal and Vitiate.
Consciousness wants the electricity and dynamo of endless creating.~Jon Rappoport
She warns a rant does not resolve the pain.
Increasing the polarity’s insane.
The males say it’s not ladylike to fight
–that’s their domain. To suffer, woman’s plight.
Yet I stand. I raise my clarion voice
determined to feel anger, to rejoice
as each emotion carries me to realms
and depths, I paint my ensōs. At the helm
of true creation, numbness has no place.
Death in life is so intense, I give space.
I open to imagination’s blaze
and just release the ones who call me crazed.
Inspired by realm, in the circle and Fleet and the Saturday stream of consciousness prompt to use my least favorite word (the last word in my poem today) which keeps being used pejoratively to undermine my credibility.)
Giving each caller a trinket. Angels
watching over night and day. My changes
flow in deep currents. I weep for her self
frugality. Clothes on this closet shelf
her only new, so treasured. I bought her
finery she wore with pride, my daughter’s
gift. Imagine each furbelow and flounce,
each pleat an added bounce to her step, neat
and organized beyond her death. I plow
through lists, I make the calls. Expel the vows
of retribution, simply feeling love
that never ends. White swans descend. Above
my head, the poplars are trembling. She said,
it’s not the wind, it’s angels assembling,
look there, outside the window fluttering.
They are here right now, praises uttering.
Inspired by: Trinket, Expel, Self and Flounce. Thanks to my mother’s deathbed visions, poplars will always signify the presence of angels.
Just at dawn, currents of symbolic air
disunite the water’s borders. Beware
misty apparitions rise and float pale
and eery. A river of souls sets sail.
Inspired by: Symbolic and Disunite.
My apologies. This morning I was a bit frazzled, and since I’m unable to update Safari, WordPress won’t allow me to make any edits or use more than half a screen. So the first part of my poem today didn’t make it. And my links were all screwed up as well.
“He tilts their tired faces gently to the spoon….The wires in the walls are humming some song, some mysterious song, bars in her head beating frantic”~Joni Mitchell
My mother grows translucent as dawn’s sky
she misses every morning. Sleepless nights
wracked with pain and only breath mastery
can bring control. There’s no relief in sight.
And even so she hobbles through this one
clear moment to the view seeking the sun
and blooms she’s planted, the window braving.
The ferns’ furcate venation, forks waving
soft sighs, romantic promises of life
eternal, lovely gentle green unseen
and all the angels’ wafture through the screen
could lighten and delight, could ease her plight
but energy is gone, the morphine calls
and tiredly she slips out of pain’s thrall.
Inspired by: the Stream of Consciousness Saturday prompt “igh”, Symbolic, Venation, Frantic and Disunite.
Morning prayers pull me into overviews–
half-moon clean-scrubbed by pink lingering. Blues
emerging. A startled flock bursts above
and I’m off to the races, sensing love
life a precious blessing as finally
I’m right where I’m supposed to be, free
from all the old egregious tales of woe.
What matters are my thoughts and words and though
the others struggle, I am clear as we
sit silently in peace, admire the view
as lake paints watercolors, dabbling hues
and praised by songbirds, trilling love’s breakthroughs.
Inspired by: Overview, Off, Prayer and Egregious.
Early barefoot walk, scaring up geese, great
blue heron, half a moon, and sun’s east gate
to song. It’s a new day. Fluttering white
moth. I pray to be impervious light
as everything moves away, across, through
skies with ease I long for. Songbirds’ trills true
and simple; the conglomerate no hate
can touch, for fear is a construct, man-made,
and I am woman, strong. Concinnity
laud-glory poems praise sanguinity.
Peace even as her old bones crepitate
the crackle of death song they medicate.
Inspired by: Impervious, Conglomerate, Concinnity and Crepitate.
In the morning, I’ve already evolved
from last night’s poem, a springboard. How love
propels us through unthinkable challenge.
How we waken in subsequent balance.
I walk like a dancer, shaking my ass.
And it’s so wet, bare feet leave trails on grass.
Shedding the controversy, reconcile.
This open heart summons the nuanced smile.
Bolstered by coffee, so the headache’s gone
I’m ready for the journey. Bring death on
its precipitous rushes and slow falls.
I’m here alert, lucky to feel it all.
Inspired by: Subsequent, Nuance, Controversy and Precipitous.
Featured image: the snowball hydrangeas are blooming.