An Activ(ist) Poem

 An Activ(ist) Poem

This poem wants to leap and shout,

startling you with its vigour,

its rebellious fervour emblazoned

hot pink against the prevailing grey.

It wants to rush up like a sudden flame

piercing the night – or the silencing white,

the dirty, dull white of an overcast day.

This poem wants to burn bright and fierce.

This poem wants to wrap its arms 

gloriously around you, yodelling its joy.

It wants to dance with you, spin you,

run up walls and ceilings like Fred Astaire.

It wants to twirl you around and around

so that when you emerge, giddy,

you see the world in a brand new way –

to spin you so dizzy you fall in love.

This poem wants to break you open

and put you back together different,

your eyes gazing wider, your heart

strong with passion, your hands working.

This poem wants to dig itself

into the dirt, to spread like tree roots

underground, through the whole earth ...

this poem wants to heal the earth.

This poem is a cry, a fist-pump,

a rush, a stampede. This poem 

is charging into the future, praying 

that we have one, and acting as if.

Poetic Asides prompt, day 4: An active poem.

Words from skyloverpoetry: emblazon, hot pink.

Sharing with Poets and Storytellers United via Weekly Scribblings #66: All About April – because this poem was written for the April prompts, and even more because of the verdict just announced in the case about the murder of George Floyd. I wanted to share something triumphant and looking to a positive future.

Conversations with My Body

 Conversations with My Body

She tries to communicate with me, and I hear her, but I don’t always know exactly how to respond. I don’t always understand the language. Lately she uses the language of pain. It’s loud but imprecise. ‘There’s a problem here,’ she yells, but I can't decipher exactly what it is. I have to get help with the translation. 

Sometimes even the translators can’t be sure. ‘Well it could be this, but on the other hand that particular expression can mean….’

Part of the trouble is that life is so busy. I do have a way of understanding – of sitting quietly, touching her, tuning in and listening; taking care of my side of the communication, which is to receive the message. I could do that, once. But now I am living the single life, doing everything myself: in attending to so much, I pay too little attention. The quiet times of listening deeply have slipped away unnoticed. I’ve brushed her off! I see it now. I’ve ignored her intimate whispers until she has had to resort to this repeated refrain of desperate shouts. 

How could I so subdue my awareness? Travel so far from my self?

I stop

and lift a sea shell

to my ear

Poetic Asides prompt #3 : A communication poem. 

Words from the skyloverpoetry list: intimate, refrain, subdue, sea shell.

Linking to Writers' Pantry #69 at Poets and Storytellers United, on 8 May 2021.

Shorts (April '21)

 Shorts

The blankets on this couch –

I think of my little cat

getting cold at home.

******

Silence

full of thoughts —

Zen fail.

******

Pain unexpressed

hurts longer.

******

You swallow your rage.

Your dog snarls at me.

******

Who walks

the dark street?

Leaves rustle.

******

tide’s edge –

one sandal

sloshes

******

She screams at him

for not helping.

He has turned away

to call the ambulance.

Workshop writings from a meeting of the LitChix. We were attempting on-the-spot haiku, senryu and aphorisms.

Shared with Writers' Pantry #67 at Poets and Storytellers United