Category: Strength

Take a Chance

Take a Chance

Sometimes you don’t see it coming
Busy spinning on the hamster wheel
because that’s what you do
Every day like the one before
doing the exact same thing
Addicted to the familiarity
The soothing balm of sameness
safe, predictable
Perfected over a long period of time
As if the instructions were printed
in your mind with indelible ink
Never to be forgotten
worthy of recognition
of reward
of acknowledgement
that never comes
And when you get the chance
to experience something 
New and different
Run towards it with arms wide open
There is no rear-view mirror

Copyright © 2021 Christine Bolton - Poetry for Healing
All Rights Reserved

Lillian is hosting D'Verse Poets tonight and has prompted us with
the lyrics of Dancing Queen by ABBA.  We are to pick one line from
the song to use as a base for our poem.  I chose the line
"And when you get the chance"

Image Pixabay

All’s Fair In Love And War – A Quadrille

All’s Fair In Love And War

It is fair to say
that you
have let me down

In all fairness 
I ask you honestly
through a frown

I’m not your
fair weather friend
Easy come, easy go

I deserve better
Fair’s fair I think
So away from you I grow

Copyright © 2021 Christine Bolton - Poetry for Healing
All Rights Reserved

Linda Lee Lyberg is hosting Monday Quadrille at D'Verse Poets.
Her prompt tonight is the word 'Fair'

A Quadrille is a poem of 44 words excluding the title

Photo - Pixabay

Wild, But Still A Flower – Poem of the Month – November 2021

Wild, But Still A Flower

I am wild and not like you
I am not elusive or rare
but omnipresent
To be found
everywhere you look, if only
you would really see me
In the grass and between
the cracks in the pathway
of your life

Overlooked and annoying
I grow where no one expects 
me to flourish, because I can
Pretty and yellow, like the sun
Strong and resilient 
Multiplying in numbers 
and sometimes overwhelming 
My appearance
not always welcome

Yet, when noticed I am pleasing 
to the eye for my brightness
but do not always belong
in another’s vision of beauty
If left alone, my life cycle
would ultimately give pleasure in
its transformation

To be plucked and played with
Soft lips gently blowing 
on my lightness
Sending me in a million directions
Giving joy with my ability to fly
and granting wishes to those
who would ask, allowing me to
entertain for just brief moments
before being born again
and try once more for happiness 

Copyright © 2021 Christine Bolton - Poetry for Healing
All Rights Reserved

Bjorn is hosting D'Verse poets and has prompted us
with Conceit poetry.  Conceit being a grand metaphor
for life. An elaborate, improbable comparison
between two very unlike things to create an imaginative
connection between them.

Lost No More

Lost No More

Sun streaming through trees
piercing the forest floor with laser light
I follow the path of brightness
towards the beacon luring me

Unafraid of the unknown
I sense I am in familiar territory
Tall oaks, limbs stretched wide in welcome
pointing me in the direction to travel

Focused on the journey I pay no attention
to distractions pulling me away from my focus
I hear not the call of ghosts from my past
or feel the hands that pull on my clothes

The force propelling me forward
stronger than a million magnets
I am no longer lost
I am found

Copyright © 2021 Christine Bolton - Poetry for Healing
All Rights Reserved

Laura is hosting D'Verse Poets tonight and she has prompted
us with Lost and Found poetry.  We are to choose one of
the 'Lost" poems provided and respond to it with 'Found' poetry.

I chose to respond to Pablo Neruda's Lost In The Forest

“Lost in the forest, I broke off a dark twig
and lifted its whisper to my thirsty lips:
maybe it was the voice of the rain crying,
a cracked bell, or a torn heart.

Something from far off it seemed
deep and secret to me, hidden by the earth,
a shout muffled by huge autumns,
by the moist half-open darkness of the leaves.

Wakening from the dreaming forest there, the hazel-sprig
sang under my tongue, its drifting fragrance
climbed up through my conscious mind

as if suddenly the roots I had left behind
cried out to me, the land I had lost with my childhood—
and I stopped, wounded by the wandering scent.”

Image by jplenio from Pixabay 
%d bloggers like this: