Photo scrolls up
A familiar style
Already I know it’s you
Hesitating to read
Your words draw me in
Carrying away to a new place
Not ready for this adventure
Turning off and tuning out
Your precious gift awaits
We will meet soon
When my time is right
[ I’ve been spending more time on instagram lately, sharing my shorter poetry with integrated visuals. It feels closer to what I’m striving for artistically. Feel free to join me there. And if you also put writing there, do let me know. I live for all your words. ]
It feels like the start of a new journey while tangled in the old one
It feels like mountain climbing and gliding down the other side in a bicycle
It feels like finding new friends and suddenly losing them again
It feels like every mistake I’ve ever made arriving at once
It feels like emotional exhaustion and fresh energy
It feels like new music and sad songs
It feels like missing meals and discovering a picnic in the garden
It feels like a new book and worn pages with turned corners
It feels like stormy winds and sunshine on my face
It feels like crying and receiving comfort from your best friend
It feels like anticipation and collapsing on the floor
It feels like fresh sheets and staying too long in bed
It feels like soft pillows and a comfy sofa
It feels like nerves before a great performance
It feels like a skin pamper and removing a splinter
It feels like brick walls and open doorways
It feels like colourful paintings and dusty old masters
It feels like lavishing attention on the cat and not being clawed
It feels like light at the end of the tunnel and minding your steps over the rocks and tracks
It feels like a triumphant fanfare over a steady drumbeat
It feels like your suggestion from last week suddenly sitting perfectly within my plans
It feels like decorating the Christmas tree and not minding the worn faded tinsel
It feels like looking at your own reflection and wanting to see where today might go
It feels like the texture of touching this sculpture and knowing it can never be moved
It feels like finally caring for yourself, no matter what happens.
Pushing forward, through regret
Create my path of hope of joy
This pain around is life’s, not mine
To follow this heart will be my ploy
[ Woman Thinking – Etude. sketch by Frédéric Forest ]
Two Wine Haiku. Written at “The Wheaty” during Tasty Wine Walk #14 on Saturday night and presented to the assemblage in “The Deli” during dinner.
Pale golden nectar
Black bubbles from grape and vine
Wine crowd gathers close
Bulbous grapes glistening bright
Let’s get drunk tonight
Throw my heart into the wind
To see what lies of chaff blow away and what grains of truth remain.
Will you catch it?
Should my heart fall into the dust, as I collect it those specks will fill my eyes forming clouds of tears.
I write for my heart
For your heart
My words paint
When she sings to me
Searching for myself
While I struggle to breathe
The gravity of uncertainty
Holds me back, down
My arms curl in, as I curl up,
Away from the cold storm outside
Raging weather unsettles me
As I long for calm
Without and within.
Some emotions appear and clang
And don’t need to be understood
It’s ok to feel and let it be
Reminders that you are real
Caring is a valuable quality
Answers come slowly, one at
As I step forwards through
Motivation and enthusiasm for work is
My inner critic says that I am a failure at
While I’ve been told this is
While I’ve been explained
Rational thought is no support at
Relying on the invisible, on
Standing back, to get a clearer picture of what is going on
Not yet ready to step away from it completely
Wanting to understand this territory of pain
And does that matter, does any of this really matter?
Does any of this questioning and searching serve me any more?
I notice the struggle to let go of this moment
What am I hanging onto?
Is this just fear of change, or something much more?
The current advisory is to just be with it all
Paying no mind to what can or cannot be managed on any given day
Being at ease with just needing to rest, or to just feel
Which sits very uncomfortably with me
With my need to feel productive, to feel active
Ponderous times that I must journey through
Before being able to step into the productive day
Is this moment in time the journey’s end or a fresh start?
If I stop fighting (this war inside my head)
Does that mean I give up, or give in?
If I stop pushing and resisting the lies
What does that reality look like?
If I stop the active struggle, the result
Curling up in bed, withdrawing in fear
Unable to face the world through exhaustion
And inability to concentrate or function
Replacing one undesirable situation
A friend keeps mentioning acceptance
This word keeps crossing my consciousness
Imagining it might just work, I hesitate
So tired to find the energy for any action.
As a tear trickles down my left cheek
I contemplate my present, for my future.
I just want future me to be happier
To not be engulfed by pain
Physical and mental
It’s too late for present me
All has led to this current experience
Lost in the shroud of darkness.