Wednesday, 26 October 2016

The fallen
hair -
not the last -
on her shoulder,
a light burden.

Will the blade crack
when the last one falls?

Will she still be standing
tall?

Her shoulders stooped
like her height were a hindrance?

Her steps robotic
like she had no control?

Her sleep lost
like age was a problem?

Her dreams dying
like nightmare had to win?

Her breath slow
like fast was a crime?

Or,
will her last breath happen
before
the last hair falls?

When Ego and Humility Meet...

When Ego and Humility meet,
there's no discussion;
only instruction,
resentment simmering in silence.

One breathing hard,
the other's neck burning;
one's weight overbearing,
the other's physicality shrinking;
one speaking sarcasm,
the other's mind clogged;
one meaning "I'll tell you, you do it,"
the other feeling loss of joy.

Their meeting inevitable
unless Humility acts.
So, the first scene unfolds.
There is pretense on both sides.
When the second scene is on,
realization dawns on Ego.
The third scene in slow motion
and then the act is over.

Humility is spared
Ego's bullying.


When I saw that picture...

Those leaves -
yellow, red, green -
a sign!
Some warmth,
cold invading.

Feet bare
no more, wrapped pink -
dainty
she walks
mindful.

New morn -
sunlight streaming
fresh hope,
her tea
staring at her.

The news -
no, not shocking;
autumn?
winter?
She cares no more.

Monday, 22 February 2016

one night...



In the quiet darkness
of the sad uncaring night,
sleep crept in gently -
unusually slow and late -
pillow its wet companion.

Saturday, 13 February 2016

we take for granted



We take for granted - 
the love that doesn’t hurt us. 
Seasons come and go;
come again, and we welcome 
them each time – shades of gray love.

image source: http://www.beading-design-jewelry.com/meaning-of-gray.html

Thursday, 11 February 2016

she knew



She knew the game. She now had a choice. She could choose to play the game or choose not to play it. When she didn’t know the game, she was trapped in what-she-believed-to-be real. And then, she discovered it was just a game. She cried. She laughed. Cried, laughed, over and over again. And then, she settled. She now knew the game. She recognized it. She wouldn’t be trapped a second time; in fact, never again.



the pink dusking sky
their old charm loses its edge
paling the fair face

 
image source: https://www.pinterest.com/pin/24840235422878557/

Wednesday, 27 January 2016