Poetry: Christine Larsen

Christine Larsen
COLOUR MY WORLD

Behold the colours of creation!
Not the original beginnings of biblical tones,
Nor the upheaval of a world rebirthing itself...
not this time 'round.
THESE are the hues of my imagination revving up from a blank white nothingness.
The red blood begins to flow, then flood,
cunningly hidden beneath the myriad of highways and byways of my grey matter,
tingling and tangling
in the black holes silently waiting to trip,
to stop,
to cause moments of despair...
But a flash of aqua (a special favourite—
I hear waves breaking, smell ozone, taste salt)
and my rose-tinted glasses view anew.
Soon follows the flow aglow,
small mutters and stutters mattering not,
as fiery opals locked in dreariest stone
are freed,
along with the occasional sparkling diamond of inspirational blue sky visions
taking imaginings
from here to forever.

And high above, the green monkey-face of envy
laughs...
at me?
or with me?
Blessedly, either one will do...
I really don't care!
In the silvery calm after the grey storm of creation.
***


THE LANDMAN

Such a charmer, Baz the farmer,
disarming, with his charming karma,
never wanting to alarm you,
nor deliberately ever harm you.
More years than not, his meager gain
Is too hard earned, with too much pain.
Endless years of the harshest droughts,
A leaden heart burdened with doubts.
Courage is most sorely tested
How can he lose all he's invested?
Sheep and cows, his horses and plough,
Home and land, the sweat of his brow,
No shield from pain, no steely armour
Bravest Baz -- a 'True Blue' Farmer.
***


HEARTSTRONG

We hold in our hearts, the sword and the faith,
in our hands, the power of the pen.
In our minds inspiration aflame
Ignites a dream and then
The words flood the page
a thunderous waterfall
Or dribble, then drip
'til they won't flow at all.
It will not deter us,
we WILL find the word,
We have faith the power of our pen
IS mightier than the sword.
***


SLEEP CAN WAIT

Regret sleeplessness?
Deny it?
Wrong… for me.
MY bestiest hours flow,
quiet, uninterrupted,
even my Grandfather clock
too far away for even chimes to count,
and the ticks of time unwinding
are definitely unheard.
MY choice to see nothing
but daydreams,
imaginings,
wannabes.
Delicious.
I will do what I will do.
All mine.
Higher power?
No. Not at my place.
Here, it's a much lower
Call to Action.
Regrets tomorrow?
Ohh no… never.
My reverse day/nights are a choice,
wonderfully well-suited
to one who's body has slowed,
while imagination sped up.
And there's always the nana-nap...
after lunch.
***


JUST A THOUGHT

And so, there came Wisdom.
Not to all, you understand,
and to some only briefly,
then gone, a will-o'-the-wisp.
Others had a light-bulb moment…
one of their last on Earth,
when Life, they say, flashes before eyes.
A wise thought indeed, Paul Coelho's secret of life -
'to fall seven times and to get up eight.'
Only trouble there
is the body is often less able
than the most determined will directs.
Maybe the greatest 'wisdom' in that case,
when your _get up and go_ has gotten up and gone (without you)
is to make yourself comfy
and enjoy the memories.
And thank Richard Bach for his countless words of wisdom,
a favourite -
'That's what learning is, after all;
not whether we lose the game, but how we lose
and how we've changed because of it
and what we take away from it that we never had before, to apply to other games.
Losing, in a curious way, is winning.'
How wise is that?
How comforting the thought.
***
Abstract about 5 poem

My collection of poems share a small corner of my feelings at this stage, ranging from the whimsical, lyrical palette that is my life (Colour my World), to the oft-times harsh reality of life as a farmer (The Landman); the inner strength creative writing can produce (Heartstrong), and why such so-called necessities like ‘sleep’ lose their importance when creativity calls (Sleep can Wait). Finally, there is the comfort of some beautiful thoughts on the reality that is Life, expressed by experts, and even myself (Just a Thought). Such a small cross-section of all that is me at this end of my life... but SO pleasurable to live.

No comments :

Post a Comment

We welcome your comments related to the article and the topic being discussed. We expect the comments to be courteous, and respectful of the author and other commenters. Setu reserves the right to moderate, remove or reject comments that contain foul language, insult, hatred, personal information or indicate bad intention. The views expressed in comments reflect those of the commenter, not the official views of the Setu editorial board. प्रकाशित रचना से सम्बंधित शालीन सम्वाद का स्वागत है।