Standing up, out, for
Raising others, not yourself
A cape not needed
This haiku was inspired by Patrick’s Pic and a Word Challenge #180 – Courage. I found this image from an old passport and thinking about my last poem, one of the most courageous things a person can do is apologize and repair a broken relationship. Courage is big deeds and small – but I would contend that it’s the small deeds that most often save lives.
©️ iido 2019
To walk in His footsteps
Proclaim your sins
Accept the consequence
Enthusiastically you said yes
Answering the call
To walk in His footsteps
But you succumbed to weakness
Predatory not protecting
Proclaim your sins
Walk now towards the Great Hall
Carrying the cross of your own making
Accept the consequences
This cascade poem was inspired by the picture above courtesy of Hélène at Willow Poetry for her “What do you see?” picture prompt challenge. This lovely gothic image reminded me of penitence, one of the themes for this season of Lent. (For my non-Catholic readers, here is a link with some information about Lent from the Catholic perspective.)
If you’ve been keeping up with the news, you’re probably aware of the large number of Catholic priests who have committed abuse and the other priests and bishops who covered up for them. As a Catholic, I have been shocked, disgusted, angry and saddened by all these revelations. An apology needs to entail not just the word “Sorry” but also the words “What can I do to make amends?” and the action of making those amends a reality. The actions to amend are slow in coming, but it’s necessary in order to repair the relationship between the Catholic Church and its people.
As for me, I take comfort in knowing that God’s judgement and wrath is all knowing and all encompassing.
©️ iido 2019
Don’t you dare turn those unicorn eyes toward me
And keep your sparkly sparkles to yourself
That field was truly not meant for running or singing or dancing or jumping for joy.
Just stop with the rainbows and the technicolor sunsets
No need for close ups of baby chubby thighs
Or even your thighs sunning on white sand beaches.
Enough of the Sunday mornings watching your lover breathe
And definitely no more spontaneous water fights with the kids
Even those first moments that bring tears of joy are not the moments for me
No, not for me, wondering, how you can enjoy when
…..Children are kept in cages, sold to the highest bidder
…..Women are forced into dangerous back alleys, not owning their bodies
…..Veterans sleep on cardboard boxes, crazy instead of courageous
…..People still being judged by the back of their hand or the hand they’re holding
Unicorns and rainbows, white sand beaches and Sunday mornings
…..If you’re privileged to know Joy, don’t give her my number.
Jamie Dedes at The Poet by Day probably thought issuing a challenge to write about Joy would be an easy one to fulfill. She asks: Are we frail humans able to embrace the light, forgo the mundane for the miraculous? Maybe? Maybe not? Maybe sometimes? Maybe we try and fail. Tell us about it in your own poem/s.
I started several poems about experiences, people, even things that bring me joy but I couldn’t finish them. The poems weren’t bringing me joy! And then I realized that I was actually not in a joyful mood thinking of the state of our current world. I failed to write about joy. I could not embrace the light. I could not forgo the mundane. The frailty of my human condition is on full display this week. Enjoy!
©️ iido 2019
I am poised
At the edge of beginning
Unable to unclasp my hands
From behind the back of mundane
To grasp the infinitesimal potential before me.
I am afraid
Of the miracle that might happen
If I topple over the edge of the wall
Will I fall and shatter?
Will I be caught by others who know that I matter?
I am trusting
In the stars that spell my name
That my purpose will be revealed
Like wings unfurled catching the breath
Of the true spirit
I am accepting
Of the cuts upon my skin
The bruises of learning
Stamped with the names of experience
Rubbed with an ointment of love
I am ready
To fly
This poem was inspired by Hélène’s “What do you see?” Picture prompt and also incorporates Devereaux’s Go Dog Go Cafe Tuesday Writing Prompt to write a poem about flying.
Taking that first step has always been difficult for me, especially if it’s in a direction that is different and/or difficult. I know some people love a challenge, love to embark on adventures and they do it without excessive worrying or fearful procrastination. I am like the figure in the picture: seeing the beauty and potential but afraid of grasping the wall, swinging my leg over and dropping onto the other side.
I’m learning that to truly fly in this world, I can’t overthink, I just have to do it (as the slogan goes). Think it – Say it – Do it – Be it – then Take Off!
©️ iido 2019
The first 24 hours, a dream
Of downy softness anchoring
The haze from the drip, drip
Am I ready?
The first 3 months, a gauntlet
Of liquids leaking, not sleeping
A form of hazing
Will I survive?
The first year, a tornado
Of becoming a talker, walker
Hazardous trial and error
Am I doing it right?
The next 21 years, a crystal ball
Wanted to predict and protect
Hazy edges turn sharp
Cutting off my questions
The hazmat of parenting
When can I stop worrying?
This poem was written for Patrick’s Pic and A Word Challenge #179 – Haze. I am on a streak completing Patrick’s beautiful word and photo prompts. Last week was a “rush” post but I didn’t want to miss his prompt!
This week, I had a bit of fun with his word “haze”, repeating the “haz” in different forms in this poem. Gina at dVerse talked about a “hum” in our lives (check out Gina’s poem beautifully illustrating this) however my life right now (and for quite sometime) can be more described as having a “haze” not a hum. Maybe it the lack of sleep or the rush of our daily schedule, but this haze, this film, covers my view of the world. Sometimes it obscures parts I can’t or don’t want to see. Sometimes it colors conversations (like a sepia filter) and changes the meaning of those connections. Sometimes it is as thick as a pea soup fog that I must pull myself through. Sometimes it is words, phrases and ideas that overcome my mind until they can be captured in lines of verse. I don’t know if I’m friends with this haze but I’m thankful for its inspiration for this poem.
©️ iido 2019
With a full heart, I am pleased to announce that three of my poems have been recently published in the March Issue of the BeZine, themed “Waging Peace”. Please check out the link below for wonderful poetry on this timely topic.
Many, many thanks to Jamie Dedes at The Poet by Day for her continued support of my writing.
“Come out, Zima! I’m tired of playing hide and seek!” Aviva called from her perch above the bridge. “I’ve canvassed this area at least ten times. This isn’t fun anymore.”
She smelled Zima before she saw her – burnt peppermint breath enveloping her from behind. Aviva turned around to see Zima rising from behind the rocks beneath the bridge. Zima was a terrible sight to see. The dragon was as tall as a birch tree and as wide as the oldest pine tree on the other side of forest. Her scales were white and glittery like new fallen snow at sunrise but were as hard as plates of frosted glass. Despite her rigid outer covering, Zima’s long tail was flexible, grasping objects beyond her reach if needed. What Zima was missing were her wings. Aviva hadn’t asked her about this yet but she did notice the scars on Zima’s back.
“How could you not find me? I was right here!” Zima exclaimed. She regarded Aviva with a questioning look, taking in Aviva’s shoulder length, white hair, warm brown eyes and even warmer brown skin. The young girl – or woman as she insisted with they first met – was still holding her liege’s banner while sitting on her horse, Kite.
“You’re such a good hider, Zima! You just blend in with the snow.” Aviva finally dismounted her horse and leaned the banner against the saddle, stretching her shoulders and arms.
Zima snorted, “I don’t know why you insisted on carrying that banner the entire time.”
“I have to get stronger if I’m to prove that I can carry my liege’s standard. It won’t do for me to go into battle and then drop the flag when they need it to rally the knights.”
Zima snorted again causing Aviva to cross her arms. “I know you don’t think much of Egon but he is my liege and my cousin. He swears this war is inevitable. Our time together is numbered.”
Zima’s tail wrapped around Aviva’s waist giving her a squeeze. The tip found her shoulders and started to gently tap at the sore muscles there. Aviva leaned into the soothing touch with a sigh. She wasn’t sure what would happen to Zima once Egon started the war, but they had to find a way to remove the spell that had kept their kingdom trapped under winter snow for 100 years. None of the wizards they had brought over the years in had helped. Now Egon wanted to invade the next kingdom that seemed unaffected by the curse and take over their land for his own people. Aviva didn’t like the idea – you can’t simply take something that someone else has jut because you want it or even need it – but Egon had no ear for advice other his own greed and stubbornness. She was sure the war would further decimate their kingdom and leave them worse off then before.
Shaking off Zima’s tail, Aviva declared, “Let’s make the most of the rest of this day. Hide again, Zima. I’ll not pick up the banner or get on Kite this time.”
She turned towards the nearest tree and started counting to 50 while Zima bounded happily away. Zima didn’t see the tears falling from her eyes.
For Hélène’s “What do you see?” Picture prompt.
©️ iido 2019
We’re laying on top of the van under a scratchy blanket with What’s His Name. The cold fingertips of morning mist drag across our skin, weighing down the beads around us with condensation.
The sun makes it slow appearance, a disapproving gaze covering The Big Easy as well as the skyline of New Orleans. We’re hoping the sun’s warmth forgives and forgets like we’ve forgotten where the blue top with embroidered flowers went.
Puckered flesh exchanged
Innocence for plastic beads
At sunrise – regret
*****
For Patrick’s Pic and a Word Challenge #178 – Sunrise. Also incorporating last week’s dVerse Poetics theme: Mardi Gras.
©️ iido 2019
Plump
Meow
Lick lick purrrr
Rumble grumble
Lazy eyes open
Head languidly turning
Anything interesting?
Oh no – just you – scratch my head now
The sun makes me sleepy. Time to eat?
This nonet was written for Jamie’s Wednesday Writing Prompt to write a poem about an animal companion. The original title for this poem was “Fat Cat in the Sun”, for indeed, Kassidy was a chubby wubby kitty cat, but she was also ruler of our home. My parents would do anything for Kassidy – come home early to feed her, go to a different grocery store to buy her special food, made sure she had several special beds to lie around the house. In return, she always greeted you at the door so you could scratch her head the minute you came in before you even got a chance to put down your keys. Kassidy died about 3 years ago yet she always will hold a place in our hearts.
©️iido 2019
I Do Run 