I haven’t always associated chronic fatigue with good things, but whoever said sensible people play the hand they are dealt … knew a thing or two about resilience. Actually I told a teeny lie about 5 good things, I am working on the rest 🙂 – but here is one to start the list!
Wrapped in my favorite throw rug and cuddling with my dog for a guilt free afternoon nap.
Actually this is my dog Billie sticking a wet cold nose into my face to wake me up. Does she fear I might sleep through her dinner time? It’s never happened but who knows how a dog thinks! She does give me a lovely cuddle too when I need one – like when I collapse for an afternoon nap…
Well the challenge was to write a poem about, or inspired by, the colour yellow. Harder than one might think! But I added an extra challenge for myself – mostly I write wordy, rambling poems, heavier on description than emotion. This time I aimed to write something short and pithy but meaningful.
A sunshine poem came to me on the morning train – making it light in word count but still saying something proved too hard so I just let that one flow.
But on reflection I starting thinking about yellow representing a lack of courage. We have all experienced fear, fear of failure, of rejection, of change. And to my surprise out came a poem unlike my usual ramblings.
Writing is a journey in self discovery, sharing that writing can be a laboured walk along a muddy track of good intentions and well aimed barbs. Here are my yellow poems 🙂
Morning sparkles on the river.
Harsh yellow sunlight
burns through train windows
on the morning run to the city.
Glinting off silver necklace
and pearl pendant.
Highlighting deep wrinkles
and downy facial hair.
Small woman opposite
reads king-size book.
Tall man alongside
scans financial section.
Two men behind speak rapidly
in a language harsh and high.
School bags congregate in doorways
their owners squeal in delight
behind oversize sunglasses
as each stop admits
another member of the coterie.
Four seats away, why
is that man frowning so deeply?
Eyes squeezed shut.
Window frame refracts the light
slicing his face into deep shadow
and washed out white.
All is well on the morning train!
the rising bile
the spreading ache
glimmers of light