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Out of my element

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Photo: Pixabay

Out of my element

I bushwack through brush
trying to remember to hand off
face-high branches to the hiker
just behind
keep an eye out for stinging
nettle, poison oak
haul myself up thigh-burningly
steep hills, inch down steep declines
side-footed with the caution
of an arthritic senior
but when we reach the stream
bridged by a fallen log
I freeze.

How will I cross
without my pack throwing me
off balance?
Pray my shoes sprout cleats.
Envision crawling across
the narrow rounded bridge
on hands and knees…

“Come on!” my friend cries
as she lithe-springs
from log to shore.
But how can I “come on”
with feet and legs possessed
by sweaty
trembling
paralysis?

© 2017 by Violet Nesdoly (All rights reserved)

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Prompt – Inspiration
The prompt for this November 2012 poem was “Write a poem that scares you. It could be a scary movie or ghost story poem. It could be a poem about a secret in your past. It could be a poem about your worst fear. It just needs to bring up a scary/fearful/uncomfortable emotion as you write.”

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VintagePADThis April I’m celebrating National Poetry Month by posting some not-as-yet published poems from my files, along with what inspired them. If the prompt inspires you to write a poem of your own, you’re welcome to share it in comments. Whether you write or not, thanks so much for dropping by!

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Poetry Friday LogoThis poem is linked to Poetry Friday, hosted today by Tabatha Yeatts at her wonderfully eclectic blog Tabatha Yeatts: The Opposite of Indifference.

 
19 Comments

Posted by on April 21, 2017 in Nature, Personal, Poetry Friday

 

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RISE – Spiritual Journey (first) Thursday

sjt-2017-graphicIt’s the day for our Spiritual Journey (first) Thursday link-up. Today we focus on Leigh Anne’s one-little-word for 2017—RISE.

What Could RISE mean in my day-to-day life, I asked myself as I considered what to write. I quickly realized RISE is a very versatile word with lots of meanings and ways I regularly encourage myself to rise, from physically getting up in the morning, to rising emotionally and mentally for social occasions, to meditating on spiritual beliefs that recall and anticipate resurrection.

I put some of the ways one can RISE (or try to) into the poem below. It includes activities I take part in during a typical week.

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Image: Pixabay

RISE

A Monday word—RISE!
Throw off weekend’s quilt.
Duty calls. To work!

A Tuesday word, RISE
early to pray into God’s
possibilities.

RISE—a Wednesday word
absorb, learn, grow, reach out, love
sisters of my heart.

RISE—a Thursday word
of writing, posting, caring
in community.

On Friday RISE
with dust rag, mop, water can.
Homes need love too.

On Saturday RISE
bread, soufflé, muffins, scones
to nurture and feed.

RISE—a Sunday word
of resurrection, hope, a
future past the grave.

© 2017 by Violet Nesdoly (All rights reserved)

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Now I’m eager to see what others have written about “Rise.” Please join me in visiting the link-up at Leigh Anne’s blog: Turn.

 
 

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To runners true

This is the season of runs and marathons. It seems like every week there’s another one happening around here. I believe this weekend several of my family will be running in the Annual Saskatchewan Marathon (a Boston Marathon Qualifier race—not that they have designs on that). Then on August 22nd, my sister is running in the Canadian Team Diabetes 2015 Islandsbanki Reykjavik Marathon in Reykjavik, Iceland.

I am not a runner, but I do salute all runners of marathons, half-marathons, 10 km. races, even those who just run around a neighborhood block. I dedicate today’s poem to family members who are participating in marathons and other runs this year.

Running

Running (Photo from RGBStock.com)

To runners true

You’re all warmed up
your number’s new
with the champing crowd
you wait the cue.
The cap-gun pops
its muffled “boo!”
There’s a starting line
hullabaloo.

The crowd soon thins
and you break through—
a Clydesdale runner
that’s not you.
Head of the pack
is soon in view
that record-holder
you’ll pursue.

Meters are slipping
strong and true
beneath your flighty
running shoe.
At checkpoint grab
energy brew
drink on the move
like champions do.

High as a kite
and happy too
this run’s a breeze
a whoop-de-do
until you stumble
almost fall
a tell-tale sign
you’ve hit the wall.

You can’t stop now
that isn’t you
quitting too soon
simply taboo.
You slow your
unaerobic pace
with run smarts you’ll
complete this race.

That lactic acid
you subdue
a second wind
you feel like new
spring in your step
like a kangaroo
the finish line
is now in view!

Jujitsu, kung-fu
derring-do
though well behind
the race who’s who
you marathoned
and saw it through.
You deserve an Olympic
medal—you do!

© 2015 by Violet Nesdoly (All rights reserved)

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Poetry Friday LogoI’m linking this poem to Poetry Friday—my first Poetry Friday link-up in nine months. I’ve missed you wonderful poets! Poetry Friday is hosted today by Margaret at Reflections on the Teche.

 
21 Comments

Posted by on May 28, 2015 in Light, People, Poetry Friday

 

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