Saturday, July 22, 2006
LOST TO LOVE’S ATTRITION
It was the day you went away
Bleak Depression came to stay.
The Black Dog launched upon his mission
And unleashed Fury entered the fray.
Hound from hell, you howling submission
Weakened me who lacked volition.
Reclined by Dark accepting Fate
You're lost to Love’s attrition.
In woe and tears, I rued my fate
Dire plans began to fulminate.
From Misery came bright Gestalt-
A Life my own did I create.
Light pierced deep within the vault
And I no longer claiming Fault.
Head up, chest out, hips all sashay,
Cerberus’s guard I called to halt.
Thursday, July 20, 2006
Tuesday, July 18, 2006
You glowered and murmurred mumblings
About my yakking and yammering
So I clobbered you with spewed spitting sounds
Until you skampered and skittered out the door howling
Holding your ears pierced by my shrill shrieks.
Thursday, July 13, 2006
Turn out the light and
Unclothe your sweet self,
Recline within my arbour
Now that the day is done,
Once again let redolent repose
Undress your cares,
Turn out the light.
Twilight's for hushed murmurrings and
Halcyon hearts beating together,
Entwine your limbs with mine and draw in
Lips and breasts in love's caress,
Ignite patient passion until
Galvanized we light up the night
Hot and bright in symbiotic conflagration--
Turn out the light.
Wednesday, July 12, 2006
Monday, July 10, 2006
I haven't many good photos of myself. Like many, I don't like having my picture taken and often think I ressemble an exhausted maniac after long hard ride to the moon.
A friend took a number of posed photos of me for family and friends who may like a displayable shot and for my promotional requirements. I'll put them up over time. If you think the photo is good enough for a book's back cover placement, vote yes. If you prefer candid camera shots, let me know.
I favour B/W for portrait shots. How about you?
Wednesday, July 05, 2006
MY WORK MYSELF
I’ve retired from my profession not from life
And suddenly I have no value
Apparently I now lack authority;
Now that I’m not paid for my work,
Still I catch myself saying I’m a nurse
When asked what I do
Adding in afterthought -- and I’m a wife and mother.
Titles I’ve never been asked to prove,
My skills and talents not honed like stay-at-home
Wives and mothers; not paying my dues but
Rather delegating my responsibilities
To pseudo-mothers and lovers.
You can have it all, I was told.
Becoming more a human doing than a human being
My expertise dwindling as the neighbourhood healer
I am bereft
My wife and mother duties no longer needed or wanted;
I am bereft.
Marginalized, outsourced, part-timed, disregarded, under-equipped,
Overworked, burned-out, used-up, infected…
I am bereft of self.
I wrote this poem as an entry in to a poetry contest with the broad subject of any aspect of work. Since I am fairly newly retired, these thoughts emerged. I'll update when the contest is judged. I sure hope that posting on a blog doesn't constitute prior publishing. Any experts on this out there?