Image credit: Danny Gregory, Flickr
Pink, so stereotypical
Redundantly feminine
Behind rosy lips
Lies the real venom
Like peonies placed
Gently on worn tables
Dripping on doilies
Twisting on fables
Out of the doghouse
With petals of penitence
Tied in a bow
With ribbons of arrogance
He didn’t mean it
This bouquet will speak
Softly in fuchsia
An offering to the weak
~
Today at dVerse, Gabriella introduced us to Danny Gregory, who kindly allowed us to use his artwork as a prompt for poetry.
Don’t ever lose what you came here for
Dreams lost between fingers
Float aimlessly so
Haunting you, taunting you
Forging the flow
Of what you cannot
And what you will sow
Like they know
Hah! Like they know
~
Don’t ever lose what you came here for
Thoughts and faint hearts
Will easily dissolve
Diluting, polluting
Your streams of resolve
Diverting your course
To bowers and bays
That lead you astray
Hah! Sail away
Courageous reptile
Algae for an audience
Still out on a limb
~
Simple subjects can make a strong statement. This week’s challenge at the Daily Post inspired us to take a minimalist approach behind the camera.
Oh..and please pay this little turtle some respect. Click to enlarge!
I watched the leaders of my country
Dodge bullets today
Literally, dodge bullets
That was the news
And that’s all it is
Simple violence
Point and shoot
Any coward can do it
But the story is not the news
The story is about a boy
A son, who became a man
A soldier
Corporal Nathan Cirillo
A father, an animal lover
A friend to many
Only 24 years old
The story is about
Hearts ripping, tears flowing
Making sense of inhumanity
Sorrow deeper
Than can be imagined
No, I did not know him
It doesn’t matter
I am a mother
And he was like no other
How do I know?
Just look in his eyes
That is the gift
We have been given
Beautiful soul
One heart in different bodies
One life in different times
One love in different worlds
We are different
Thank God
We are all different
In response to poetics at dVerse…but mostly in response to my aching heart.
“Strength can be silent.”
This one is still very hard for me…another lesson in progress.
Why?
My shyness crippled me when I was a child, a teenager and even into my twenties.
It took me a long time to grow “a voice”. It took me a long time to be confident about my own opinions and a longer time to not care what others think of them. I find it very hard to be silent in a situation that is harmful to others. I want to fix things. I enjoy making a case. I enjoy writing a letter of complaint. (Can you get paid for that?) I am actually pretty darn good at it. Speaking up for something that I strongly believe in? My cup of tea.
Despite this, I am learning that sometimes I just need to listen…even if it means listening to the silence. Sometimes the silence says that I am saying too much, that maybe I am over compensating for my own inadequacies or maybe I am speaking on the behalf of others, when they haven’t given me the floor.
Sometimes…I just need to be quiet shut up!
Strength is not always about raising your voice. Sometimes it is about restraining yourself from doing just that.
PEACE isn’t merely a word,
A two fingered gesture
Casually tossed
At passers-by
PEACE enters darkness
To separate innocence
From all that destroys
PEACE is a power
Stronger than evil
But much more intelligent
PEACE doesn’t fight
PEACE uses its words,
Its heart, its mind
PEACE takes its time
To think, to listen, to believe
That we are all the same
And those that hate
Need PEACE to guide them
Not guns in their hands
Or more sorrow in their hearts
PEACE is Love
And LOVE is Peace
Hand in hand
Please visit
http://artists4peace.wordpress.com/
No shame in coming forward
Words felt and unspoken
Are like sweet petals in the wind
Voices transcend to resolutions
Presentation is communication
And you may be the missing link
In this daisy chain
My heart still beats
Though stitched and sewn with
Threads of hope, frayed
Robotically repaired
In rhythmic mode
Patched up places
Where entry wounds gaping
Took hold of every breath
My heart still beats
Tick tock, tock ticking
Pulse belongs to them
Lovingly tended
Far from mended
But they are the blood
The oxygen saving
My life, my soul, my love
~dedicated to my father and my brother~
Today at dVerse Poet’s Pub, Marina Sofia asked us to “consider what does it take to shatter your world and how do you make it whole again”.
It might be sweet
Or perhaps pernicious
Depending on your mood
Or which persona you choose
To serve up on this plate
One cup of conviction,
Don’t shake it
To half a cup of real
Don’t fake it
Pour into glass bowl
Combine with relevant stories
Or substitute with an allegory
More easily digested
Season with pure grit
And some hot sauce
If you “put that shit
On everything”
Marinate your words
With a little savoir faire
Then let them spill
Clarify and separate yourself
From any shadows of doubt
Before stirring it up
You can add an epochal moment
If you really knead it
Don’t mix in any anger
It will curdle your cause
Sometimes warmth is required
For rants to rise properly
Serve with a side of sassiness
Anthony Desmond at dVerse Poet’s Pub really had us firing up the neurons for this one. He chose a list of twelve random words, challenging us to use at least five of them in a poem. I used eight ( pernicious, persona, plate, glass, allegory, shadow, epochal, warmth).
My grandmother is an artist.
Over the years, her oil paintings have adorned many walls. They were beautiful landscapes of colour and detail, shadows of mountains, life flowing in streams, and love delicately expressed onto canvass. I remember the smell of the paint, the blended hues she experimented with on her palette, her unfinished piece draped in cloth as it waited for more magic from her hands.
Ten years ago, at the age of 86, she painted what she thought was her last painting. Her eye sight was failing fast. Four years later, 90 years old and almost legally blind, she picked up the paint brush once more attempting a few final creations, including these two paintings for me and my husband. She said she was not sure if she could paint again, but she hoped that we liked them. What they may lack in her usual detail, they make up in visualization, strength and determination.
There are no words to explain how much they mean to me, so I won’t even try.
My grandmother is an artist.
She was also a dedicated wife to a Lutheran minister, devoted to her church and helping others, a most creative and resourceful person, and wonderful cook.
Today she is still a loving mother, grandmother and great grandmother. She lies quietly in a nursing home, unable to see or walk, and barely able to hear. In her mind, I believe she is still painting…memories of bright faces in the sunshine, places of long ago and visions of the light that waits patiently for her. I believe that someday she will paint with the angels.
My grandmother is an artist.
http://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_photo_challenge/work-of-art/
Colour draws me in
Lifting my heart to the sky
Through turquoise dreams
And flying machines
Luring me gently to the clouds
Over the rainbow
And back again
I only need to open
This door of hope
Yellow like the sun
Decorated with doves and lace
To remind me of grandmothers’ doilies
And simpler times
I only need to open
This door of endless possibilities
One hand gripping and turning
One heart open and learning
One life in front of me
Inside of me
Around me
I only need to open
This door of life
To find my rainbow
Photo credit: Doors – 2014 Calendar
Photography by Londie Garcia Padelsky
Do not assume my serenity
Strength composed behind these royal jowls
Is easy to unleash
Majestic magnitude I will flippantly flaunt
In your curious face
My capabilities, now subdued
Could easily result in your demise
My eyes hide secrets
To what lies within this gallant heart
Softened only by the breeze
Sweeping through golden tufts
The sun kindling my soul
And the mere fact that I am not free
As deep as my heart
That summons strength
To shine beneath the shadows
This cold bed
Will cushion my fall
Bring joy to my soul
Arms will unfold
And with eyes on the sky
I will fly
Rest in Peace, Nelson Mandela
“Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate.
Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure.
It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us.
We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous?
Actually, who are you not to be?
You are a child of God.
Your playing small does not serve the world.
There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won’t feel insecure around you.
We are all meant to shine, as children do.
We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us.
It’s not just in some of us; it’s in everyone.
And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same.
As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.”
‘A Return to Love” (1992) by Marianne Williamson
Related Articles
http://www.cbc.ca/news/world/nelson-mandela-dead-at-95-1.2417872
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nelson_Mandela
http://dailypost.wordpress.com/2013/11/29/photo-challenge-lights/
Sometimes
You must walk on
Through reeds
That sway sweetly
In silence
Because silence is the word
Telling you to move forward
Speaking to your mind
Comforting your soul
Picking up your feet
Along the trail of truce
Even if it only leads
Back to your own heart
for dVerse Poet’s Pub, Open Link Night
The words are ringing in my ears today
Blinding my eyes with tears
Taking me down to that place
Where the back of my throat is all I can feel
Razor-sharp annunciation
Cryptic though in clarification
Boxing my brain again
Revealing my pain again
Time has no bearing on this burden
Riddles, reasons overlap seasons
Oblivious to wasted time
Moments lost, never to find
Hope dangles on a thread
Frayed and frazzled in my head
Precious moments terminate
As stubborn hearts still beat
The past can resurface
Creep into your disbelieving mind
Because now you see it differently
The validity of discontent
How much you truly suffered
And how far you have come
Now you see
The pain as a separate entity
An unwelcome foe from long ago
Knocking on your mind
Rattling your fortress of serenity
Trying to find a way in
The past can return
Play with your peace of mind
Because it never really goes away
It is yours to subdue and restrain
Yours to push back into the darkness
Far from your precious light
Now you see
Under the light that you have kindled
With broken sticks and broken dreams
How easily walls can fall down
Leaving you vulnerable once more
Exposing your scars
The past can sweep you away
Determined to turn you to dust
Shoving you back in the pile
Of degraded debris and dismay
Now you see
How easy it was to crumble
Because words alone can crush you to pieces
And it’s hard to get up
When you are a tiny particle
Of the past
#12. “You are much stronger than you think. You just have to tap into it.”
There is an abyss that exists in my mind.
I have been there.
It is a place of darkness, unimaginable hopelessness , shock, denial, fear…but most of all, it is empty.
It is nothingness with the relentless power to end you as you know you and your life as you know it.
You try to move…..you can’t.
Cold reality has its grip on you so tight, it is easier to succumb to it, than it is to fight.
The ground you walked on crumbles under you and the only way to go is down.
You bounce around in the tunnel of blackness, empty headed.
There is no mercy here. You surrender to the unidentified force that surrounds you.
Nothing else means a thing. This place is center stage and you are the audience tied to your seat.
Nothing moves. Nothing cares.
You are still.
Sometimes there is more strength in stillness, in silence.
Sometimes what we don’t do is stronger than what we do.
Sometimes our strength is not about our stamina, courage or our energy.
Sometimes……it comes from the faintest whisper in our mind, the weakest part of our sanity……the dimmest light.
Sometimes we can only find enough strength to extend one tired and desperate hand
……and hold on.
mishunderstood 