"Trees are poems the earth writes upon the sky,
We fell them down and turn them into paper,
That we may record our emptiness."
Khalil Gibran

Friday, March 24, 2017

Bit Part

An Actress with a Mask
Eva Gonzales
19th Century Impressionism


Maybe this happens to all adults:
The dawning realization
that the life you have so pains-
takingly achieved
is a sham.
You are going through
motions of teacher, lover,
mother, friend
and even worse,
you don’t know what
this ‘life’ is really
supposed to be.

The role you have played
has become the part.

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Words Count with Mama Zen

Friday, March 17, 2017

Unknown Territory

Children Playing in a Garden
Pierre Bonnard (1899)


Some afternoons, we’d climb the fence
and scramble around the neighbour’s backyard,
pick new buds from his rosebushes,

scrounge for cherries in the fall
from an aged tree he seemed to have forgotten.
We claimed this territory

the way all colonists do, by stealth
and secrecy, taking broken tools from the shed,
digging for treasure in piles of leaves

until the day a band of yellow tape
barred our way, men in uniform converged
on our doorstep, and we, wide-eyed, saw

a pallid girl stumble out from the battered
front door, blinded by the sudden light of day,
her childhood left on the basement floor.


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For Fireblossom Friday ~ Incongruity