~
You were never adventurous
insisting on sticking to interaction
proscribed a sure thing
trying to be a “good girl” but always told
you were never good enough…
I spent my days intoxicated by a flower’s breath
building new homes out of cardboard or snow
exhuming pets I was curious about death
and bones and teeth
climbing trees listening to their heart sap
nipping change from Norman’s penny jar
just for the sneak of it
not caring much about showing my girl parts
to the neighbor boys
And there you were pushing me off
unsteady on two bicycle wheels
as if your moods weren’t the day’s bad weather
and me always approaching you with the caution
of the kid held flat out in high winds
and now you were casting me off like a baby bird
as if you yourself knew how to fly
Well…little did I know your strange insistence
was giving me more than wings
your internal Mamma clock was saying
it was time I learned to really fly
even though you knew
I’d take off and keep rolling
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Art by Terry Turrell
Poetry of Light 
You don’t get there till you arrive
There were so many powerful images
As you say breathe into it
As always Sheldon
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you Sheldon…. I was asked to join a local poetry group and this poem is from a prompt. So many factors involved in being inspired to write, you know? I’ve never been inclined to write from prompts (except drawings sometimes) so I’m exploring the possibilities since this is also an opportunity to “get out there” socially. Just trying to keep it real, Sheldon….
LikeLiked by 2 people
Its so hard to challenge ones self be it craft wise or socially
I try to stretch myself on a daily bases
Good for you to be hanging out with a bunch of like minded people
Have fun
Don’t take it to seriously
Uncle Dysfunctional
LikeLiked by 1 person
I appreciate the encouragement, Sheldon. It’s too easy sometimes to just strum my own guitar. For you I wish great results with your newest challenge!
LikeLiked by 1 person
I love that strumming your own guitar
What a great line
Thank you for your support and encouragement
It means a lot coming from you
As always Sheldon
LikeLike
” . . . as if your moods weren’t the day’s bad weather” – such a great line, Jana. I like Terry’s painting by the way. All the very best, Hariod.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks Hariod. I’ve been involved lately in conversations with other poets dissecting how poetry is written. Left brain poetry. Right brain poetry. Poetry that reads aloud well. Poetry that is more like art on the page. I try to float over the top of it all while staying in touch with what moves like blood in my veins.
Turrell’s paintings to me are a sensual/mystical delight. Visual storytelling far beyond the two dimensions of the surface he works on. I am continually fascinated by the way he fills space. All the best to you too!
LikeLiked by 1 person
I remember my Dad teaching me to ride a bike so vividly, I hadn’t realised just how vividly until I read your poem Jana. It all came flooding back and that moment when he took his hand away, well you have captured that moment for me brilliantly.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you Mark. That’s exactly it, isn’t it….that moment when their hand is taken away….! I was surprised at how the memory was whole…and also surprised I could pull something up working with a prompt. I’m sure I was unable to articulate in that moment all the emotions running through me. Writing this simple poem gave me some insight into that particular age. I’ll send it on to my Mum for a laugh.
LikeLiked by 1 person
family drama pulls us in when narrated honestly. is it because so many of us have stories of parents and children bruising each other while trying to love? but the poem also is about how you were a force of nature, anyway, absolutely reveling in your sense of adventure. and you still are exploring. wonderful stuff!
LikeLiked by 1 person
“is it because so many of us have stories of parents and children bruising each other while trying to love?” A provocative question Michael. Our most intimate relationships really are the skeletal structure of our lives. I treasure mine. Writing this simple poem and then reflecting on it deepened my appreciation for all the learning possible through loving. Thank you Michael for steering right to the heart of it…
LikeLike
How wonderful and blessed that you are still able to write about your childhood with mother and share it with her. You turn my thoughts to mine and my lost wishes. Your words increase in magic each time I open to them.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Yes John, I am truly fortunate. We have had a long and fruitful relationship. And I’m hoping me Mum appreciates this bit of recollection. I’m most interested in seeing what she recalls of her own part in this vibrant send off. I thought I’d spring it on her for Mother’s Day this year. By now she knows I’ll come up with something to recollect, reminisce and ultimately laugh about. I was rather disjointed at this age as was she. Two girls winging it!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Painful and wonderful. I really like the way you juxtapose your work with others – do you have an image bank, Jana?
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you Richard… For images I collect the work of favorite artists, photographers, etc on Pinterest. It gives me a catalogue and an easy place to start researching anyone I’m interested in.
LikeLike
breathtaking to read.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks Stacy…hey! good to hear from you!
LikeLiked by 1 person
So many powerful childhood images, Your poem tumbles through the images like a child tumbling through life.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you Nadia. Wheels and speed do introduce new horizons to tumble through!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Yes. There’s nothing like the sense of freedom and exhilaration you get when you learn to ride a bike.
LikeLiked by 1 person
I’m sorry you know how these things feel. I’m sorry that you know on such a visceral level.
Exceptional imagery, beautiful form with freedom in truth. Good Lord you can write girl! Gracious. And the art work is phenomenal.
and now you were casting me off like a baby bird
as if you yourself knew how to fly
as if your moods weren’t the day’s bad weather
and me always approaching you with the caution
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks Faith. Relationships are so complicated. My Mother knows I love her fiercely though. Fierce love shines. When we hug it’s belly to belly.
And I am grateful I “live” in my body. It gives me a place to write from. Memories are in technicolor. Seems this is where you paint from too? Glad to meet you!
LikeLiked by 1 person
training squeals
~
my mom taught me
on her own bike
gliding down our hill
my three year old big toe
stuck
in her chain
LikeLiked by 1 person
Ouch!
LikeLike