Lucifer at Calvary

Image: Pixabay

From the opening
whistle in the garden
it’s been an even match
though He boastfully predicted I’d be left
with a crushed head.

I’ve played my hand well
countered Abraham with Lot
Isaac with Ishmael
the Israelites with the Egyptians
David with Absalom.
My several setbacks?
Blame them on bad luck.

The last 33 years
have been a demonic joystick
of chess moves
the last three a dervish spinner
that landed Him today on Calvary.
The contest has been so even,
the outcome so unsure
His confusing words just now:
“It is finished.”
have me considering
my next move
long and hard.

Is this a loaded dice?
He tempting me to skip my turn?
Or He announcing a new level
or even giving up?

But see how dark this portal is
and how the game board shakes?
I think my luck has turned
my ascendancy begun.
I believe this game is over
and I have won!

© 2017 by Violet Nesdoly (All rights reserved)

***************

Prompt – Inspiration
Inspired by the Poetic Asides blog on November 1, 2014, where the prompt was: “Write a game-over poem.” (Note to myself, filed with this poem: “This poem needs an Easter Sunday answer.”)

~*~*~*~*~

This 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!

Save

 

Fall Collection

This is another poem inspired by a walk and the autumn leaves, which are particularly spectacular this year.

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

I’m collecting fashion pixels
leaves so stunning, dyed and pressed.
With this season’s stylish outfits
Autumn’s golden runways dressed.

Slender sleeves of limey yellow
ric rac trim of flaming blush
bouffant skirt of lacy sun rays
scarlet gloves with seams of buff.

Stand of trees is wearing scarlet
there’s rain-polished burgundy
trunk shows off a brooch of coral
vivid shawls of tangerine.

Crinkled, dappled, smooth and spotted
late October’s costume ball
though some dither—can’t decide:
Come as summer, or as fall?

© 2016 by Violet Nesdoly (All rights reserved)

This post is linked to Poetry Friday, hosted today by Linda at her blog Teacher Dance.

 

Storm Chasers (NPM ’16-Day 3)

Prairie Storm (Image from pixabay.com)

Storm Chasers

The sun shone from Mother’s eyes most days
until the weariness of caring for many children
sowed clouds into the furrows of her forehead
and impatience brought easterlies, even squalls.

“Can we go? Please!” Getting an answer
from Dad was like moving a ship through the doldrums.
We budged him to “We’ll see” and there we sat
in his temperate, patient and becalmed zone.

But children are storm chasers. We often ignored
darkening skies, stiffening windsock, plummeting
barometer to pursue extreme weather
with precipitate behavior,

triggered our usually clement mother, father
with nagging and laziness to lightning bolts and thunder
with insolence and backtalk to funnel clouds in a black sky
until inevitable twister, cloudburst, landslide, tsunami.

After apologies and hugs had repaired storm damage
there were rainbows and blue skies again–
the zephyr notes of Daddy playing his sax
and from the balmy kitchen, the smell fresh-baked bread.

© 2016 by Violet Nesdoly (All rights reserved)

************

This third poem post of National Poetry Month was inspired by the subject of Storm Chasers at Wonderopolis, and the NaPoWriMo Day 2 challenge to write a poem about family.

My poet friend Laurel Archer  and I are on this journey together. Yesterday’s moving poem at her blog was about autism in honour of Autism Awareness Month (she mothers two kids with that diagnosis).  She’ll share more poems this month at Four Parts Hope.

 

Fall Semester

“Too busy, too tired” – a slide from my talk “Breaking the Silence”

I plod toward the culmination
of a summer of study and planning
lugging a stone-boat
of handouts, lessons and lectures.
Responsibilities blinker me
from distraction.
Urged and directed
by the reins of conscientiousness
it’s Giddy-up and Go
till November
when, unbuckled
from this harness
I again get to frolic
in the meadow
of carefree imagination.

© Violet Nesdoly

*****************

I have spent much of the summer getting ready for fall. I’ve been preparing to deliver two poetry workshops at an end-of-September writing conference and at the same time reworking a series of eight lessons for our church’s Wednesday morning for women.

Though I have been a classroom teacher in the past, I haven’t taught much lately and I’m rusty. Ratcheting up the tension for me this year is that I have made Keynote (Mac version of PowerPoint) presentations for each session. That’s ten Keynotes! Trouble is I’ve never used such a presentation before in a class, neither do I have my own projector so I can’t even practice with the technology.

I’m not complaining… really! Doing this teaching is a wonderful way to stretch and grow my skills. But one thing I find hard to do while focusing on these assignments is to give myself to creativity. Because when I do, I so easily get lost, lose track of time, slow down, get behind. So I’m trying to enjoy this season and looking forward to the time when my on-top-of-things teacher-role will be finished and I can again be the absent-minded writer.

This post is linked to Poetry Friday. It’s hosted today by Jen at Teacher-Mentor Texts.