Tuesday, October 20, 2015

To Love is to be Vulnerable (OctPoWriMo Day 20)

The prompt today was to write a love poem. To me, a love poem is about being vulnerable, because if you truly love someone, anyone, you are opening yourself up to them. Being vulnerable can be scary but it is worth it.


They Say Love I Say

They say
love is power—
for if I love you
you have power
over me,
manipulation,
control,
for your own personal gain
or satisfaction. It’s all about
your control
over me.
They say.
            --Selfishness.

I say
love is not power—
for if I love you, truly,
I relinquish all power
over you,
your free will,
freedom,
is not for my gain or
satisfaction. It’s all about
releasing my control
over you.
I say.
            --Vulnerabiltiy.

Sunday, October 18, 2015

Things are Not What They Seem (OctPoWriMo Day 18)

Look Again

You see but skin,
layers of tissue and
blood-tinted pigment,
hair follicles and
regenerating cells--this
coating is,
as in all humanity,
outer uniformity.

Yet inside me, this dull, clay pot,
churns nuclei of uniqueness.
Look again,
deep into the chasm of identity.

You will see soul and spirit,
layers of abilities and
talents, strength in
accomplishment and
failure--this
prime is,
as in all humanity,
God's image. 

On the outside a dull, clay pot,
but on the inside filled with glory.
Look again,
His Light in me is blinding.



Saturday, October 17, 2015

Dance (OctPoWriMo Day 17)

“Dance, when you're broken open. Dance, if you've torn the bandage off. Dance in the middle of the fighting. Dance in your blood. Dance when you're perfectly free.” ― Rumi
Today I thought I'd try a nonet: the first line having 9 syllables, the second 8, and so on until the last line of 1 syllable. It demands a succinctness so I'm not sure if it works but a good challenge for me.

Dance
Dance of Angels by Leonard Afremov


Addiction. Broken relationships,
broken dreams. A bandage only
prevents awareness. Name it.
Fight for your life--but not
alone. Let Love take
your hand. Do not
resist His
healing
dance.

Friday, October 16, 2015

The Magical Day (OctPoWriMo Day 15)

Prompt: If you could do anything you wanted to do today, what would you do? This is what I would do: Jump on my magic carpet, pick up my granddaughter and share the adventure of a lifetime. Like a dream.


The Magical Day

Come with me and fly my magic carpet
To wondrous worlds we speed from dawn to dusk,
Where warm croissants await with morning light
Under the Eiffel tower's stretching arms.

Then whoosh we're off to Venice' waterways
Surrender to the oar of gondolier,
And off again to picnic lunch and play
In the white-sand heat of Mykonos Isle.

Refreshed we fly to Rome's sistine chapel
Majestic awe and grace. We walk. We walk;
And hunger calls us to falafel stands
With spices rich and juice runs down our chins.

But one more stop to watch the fading sun
On Ayers Rock with colours rich and red,
Exhausted then, curled up on carpet ride
With you--it's still my favourite place to be.

Tuesday, October 13, 2015

Risky Business (OctPoWriMo Day 13)

The prompt today is: Thoughts on how to be risky in writing. Writing can be risky if you take chances. But why write if there's no challenge and no desire to grow and change? The option on this challenge was to write a blitz poem. This in itself is a challenge--a first for me. So here we go:

Rain of Life
BONDED BY THE RAIN 1 by Leonid Afremov

Risk it all
Risk of rain
Rain in Spain
Rain or shine
Shine my shoes
Shine the light
Light of day
Light a fire
Fire in the belly
Fire her up
Up, up and away
Up in the air
Air out your grievances
Air out your house
House of horrors
House of cards
Cards to deal
Cards are stacked
Stacked against me
Stacked to the hilt
Hilt of a dagger
Hilt of a sword
Sword of truth
Sword of a fish
Fish for compliments
Fish out of water
Water it down
Water under the bridge
Bridge over the River Kwai
Bridge the gap
Gap in the teeth
Gap in the armour
Armour of God
Armour yourself for battle
Battle of wits
Battle of the bulge
Bulge in the wall
Bulge of the eye
Eye for an eye
Eye of the hurricane
Hurricane on the water
Hurricane of fear
Fear of failure
Fear of death
Death to fear
Death to life
Life is poetic
Life is love
Love...
Poetic...





Sunday, October 11, 2015

Life Directions, Life Surprises (OctPoWriMo Day 11)

I grew up in a little prairie town in Saskatchewan, Canada. So, when I decided as a young adult that I wanted to move and work overseas, I was definitely doing something outside of the box. I did not do this alone--I did it with my husband and three children aged 5, 4 and 2. I knew there were those that questioned whether I could do this but I wasn't concerned with what others thought. That being said, everything I learned from this little town, I took with me--and these lessons have been with me all my life. So, even though I left it all behind, physically, the town and its people came with me in my heart and soul. This poem is a tribute to this little town of Borden.


Everything I Learned in Life I Learned in Borden


Life lessons learned in childhood years   
Stay firm—a solid base,
My lessons learned in Borden years
Life storms cannot erase.

The joy of simple beauty in
Blue skies, bright stars, gold grain,
And seasons shift, as faultless friends
Bring life—and hope remains.

At home I learned of love and joy
Together work or play,
And comfort in my small-town world
To be kind and neighbourly.

Small-town grown-ups also showed
Commitment to hard work
With youthful eyes I watched them all
Press on—to never shirk.

In little country church I learned
Of God’s amazing grace,
To sing of being lost and found
Redeemed I found my place.

At hockey games and curling rink
I learned the pride of sport,
Of loyalty, community,
To be Canadian at heart.

In school I learned more social skills,
And knowledge set me free,
Champlain, French verbs, Shakespeare, Einstein,
Fed curiosity.

To be or not to be that is
The question we must ask,
And mine led me to far off lands
To heed a call and task.

But not without rememberings—
And all that Borden taught
Me came, still comes, in homesick thoughts
Of love—of home—of God.

Where the Wild Things Are (OctPoWriMo Day 10)

Listen to music, dance, and get in touch with your wild side. That was today's prompt. There are always those songs that make me want to dance, no matter where I am when I hear them. This song by Kongo is such a song. It makes me think of other worlds, other places--of wild things.


Where the Wild Things Are

in my head
there is a house
full of rooms
full of things--
strange and wonderful and
wild
things.

in this house,
during the day, most
rooms are locked
silent
though sometimes things
escape--
wild things.

then from my window
where nameless people pass
I imagine lives
they live, worlds
they visit and
I hitch a ride--
wild places.

in these imaginings I
machete forests
and drink grog
and fight dragons
to save
children--
a hero.

Then my own children
call me back
to reality,
"Mom, where's my school lunch?"
And the wild things
retreat to
my head.



Friday, October 9, 2015

The Power to be Still (OctPoWriMo Day 9)

The elements. What power. Today's prompt reminded me of a poem I wrote based on the story of Elijah in 1 Kings 19 in the Bible. Elijah was hiding in a cave. The powerful elements were raging outside. Would God come to Elijah in those? No. God came to Elijah in a still, small voice.

Artwork by Kendra Mae Inglis

Thursday, October 8, 2015

The Purple Room (OctPoWriMo Day 8)


In my parent's house there was a purple bedroom--one of many bedrooms in a house that I helped build back in 1976. Because it had 5 bedrooms upstairs, we kids were allowed to pick a room and choose the color scheme. Mine was not purple BUT the purple room is the only one that remained the same color in all the years we lived there so it was dubbed, "the purple room." Just last month my parents moved out of this house--it was getting too big for them. Saying good-bye to "home" was emotional and I found the ever-constant purple room to be representative of years of life and love and beautiful memories. So here's to the purple room.

Ode to The Purple Room

Years of living, of
hearts broken and
mended,
loves lost and
found, 
of added
in-laws and grands
ever growing 
around--
the purple room.

Occupants shifting, with
colors changing, 
fresh
coats of paint and
perspective,
with added
laughter and tears
ever stretching
beyond--
the purple room.

Family going, and
coming yet not immune to
age
as years turn to
decades,
sagging depreciation;
so comes the finality 
of saying 
good-bye to--
the purple room.

Wednesday, October 7, 2015

The Road Taken (OctPoWriMo Day 7)

Today the prompt is to write a poem sharing a road in life that I took and am thankful that I took, based on the theme from Robert Frost's poem, "The Road Not Taken." Firstly, let me say that that poem has been an inspiration to me ever since high school. I think because I always knew my life would not be typical--that I would be following the road "less traveled by" and it really "has made all the difference."


The Road Taken

Two opposing paths, one of bamboo stalk
In contrast to the prairie grid,
So young, and desirous I did gawk
Down the foreign one and its long walk,
With thick undergrowth kept well hid.

I chose this other of tropic sun
and coral paths baked hard and fixed,
And Asian smiles speaking foreign tongue
With wonder greeting me one by one,
Acceptance and questions intermixed.

This lone path I took to heed a call
To teach downtrodden how to read,
To give identity-strength to all,
From nameless ones to proud and tall,
This my goal to plant a hopeful seed.

I traveled far to an unknown place
To give my life and love away,
But what I found from each stoic face
Was friendship, kindness, life and grace--
Now I view life in a different way.

(I challenged myself with this one to follow the same rhyme scheme and rhythm as Robert Frost's poem, "The Road Not Taken." It needs some work but I enjoyed the challenge.)
 

Tuesday, October 6, 2015

Freedom (OctPoWriMo Day 6)




Freedom

"Where the Spirit of
the Lord is there is freedom,"
though mankind shouts in
high platitudes of me, my-
self and I that God loves not.

God loves. God loves to
such extremes that He offers
freedom--to see, to
smell, to hear, to taste, to touch,
to think, to decide, to act.

We are free to choose
between love or hate, peace or
war, life or death. Not
without understanding, He
walked among us, one of us.

He knows. In our pain
He calls us to Himself, to
find rest and peace in
our hurt, our struggle, yet--with
freedom of choice. He loves us.


Four stanzas of 5,7,5,7,7 (Tanka-style poem)

Monday, October 5, 2015

Upside Down (OctPoWriMo Day 5)

Capturing in words a relationship where love runs deep is a challenge--NOT because there is nothing to say but because there is SO much to say and because, honestly, ANY one emotion could be pulled out of a bag and be used to describe any number of events and moments in that relationship. That's really the beauty of deep relationships.

I must admit, I did not write this poem today. I wrote it a few months ago--a poem about the relationship I have with my husband, the one constant love of my life. We've had our moments, our days of struggle, but these are insignificant compared to our years of living life together--from travelling and working overseas with minority language groups to raising kids and being forever parents. I am forever grateful to God for bringing him into my life.


Sunday, October 4, 2015

Mirror, Mirror on the Wall (OctPoWriMo Day 4)




Mirror, Mirror on the Wall

Mirror, mirror on the wall
Why do these wrinkles come to call?

Throw to me some magic beans
That reverse time, give youthful sheen.

Or let me rub Aladdin’s lamp
To wipe off crow’s feet, time’s tell-tale stamp.

Perhaps the Fairy Godmother
Could wave them off like none other.

Or King Midas with his golden touch
Could fill them in with shimmer dust.

Call Jack to take his famous cloak
Swoosh them invisible with one stroke.

But note in fairy tales long told
There’s no discrimation between young and old
Age matters not in being bold
Or finding life’s worth in more than gold
Obsessions only turn hearts cold
So why obsess with growing old?

Mirror, mirror on the wall
I’ll keep these wrinkles, I’ll keep them all.

Saturday, October 3, 2015

Showing Up to Discovery (OctPoWriMo Day 3)

It has been a difficult year for my family with a sick young-adult son. Some days were harder than others and sometimes I felt like I was all alone, carrying the weight of everyone else's despair--as if I wasn't allowed to get discouraged. Why did I have to be that one? Why did I always have to show up? And yet, all the while I was never alone. A rainbow that arrived in the sky at a crucial time reminded me of that.

                                                                       drained
                                                      sucked dry by the demands 
                             of the one who sees only despair--on verge of depression
                while I cling to hope--hope in                        Jesus' color-spectrumed gift,
       neonic reflection and refraction                                    in unseen raindrops flooding
  my soul with hope in His                                                              power, His presence, His love.
It can be my                                                                                                                      only response.

Friday, October 2, 2015

Movie Views (OctPoWriMo Day 2)

Movie Views--a Scene from the movie, "Short Term 12."



Child-like flowers, bright
and cheery encapsulate
her spirit, her soul.
He sees her inner self when
she cannot. Oh how he loves.

Clouds (OctPoWriMo Day 1)


Clouds

Cloud creations,
like mood formations,
“Both Sides Now”
falls short to try.

Cirrus feathers,
in happy weather
With cumulus popcorn
floating by.

Nimbostratus
gloomy-mood status,
when darkened thoughts
trouble my mind.

Cumulonimbus
intense, wild, harshness
cold-hearted pillars
release my cry.

Cloud formations
mood foundations
So many facets
to the one called “I.”