Springtime Joys (May 28, 2019)

May’s final days

Feeling like

March and April

Never left.

Fall/winter clothes

Parade across town

In damp weather.

Dancing between raindrops

Nimble grace

Of a martial artist

Through katas.

Cursing passing vehicles

Gunning their motors

Through puddles

Without a pause.

Dirty water tsunamis

Swamp pedestrians.

Frustrated sighs

One response

Heading to work/home.

Therisa © 2019

Author’s note: Environment Canada has issued its prediction of a wet summer for the

provinces of Ontario and Quebec, while western Canada is expected to have a hot and

dry summer, leading to more forest fires, for the region.

Giving Honour (May 27, 2019)

Writing these words

A flogged dead horse

Fills my mind.

How easy

To hate someone

Who’s different.

Say this

Having been targeted

For such grotesque behaviour

From total strangers.

Naively thought

President Trump would grow

Into the statesman

We needs.

Pushing aside

His angry pettiness

For the greater good.

Instead

Doubled down

Creating a climate

Of hostility and paranoia.

Empowering those

Who share his negative

Violent agenda.

As my American cousins

Honour those men

And women.

Who paid

The highest price

One can

For their country

In foreign wars:

Their lives.

On this

Memorial Day.

Each tear shed

Thanks given

For your sacrifice.

Without this

My family and others

Wouldn’t be here.

Therisa © 2019

Author’s note: Yes, I do have cousins, who are American citizens.

During the final months of WWII, American and Canadian troops helped liberate The Nederlands, from Nazi occupation. Sadly, not all of these men were able to return home, to their families. Unlike the United States, Canada honours all of our war dead, on Remembrance Day, November 11th, at 11 am. With two minutes of silence.

To all American veterans, please accept this cyber-hug. I know, that there is a huge difference, between the political administration and the troops, who service to defend the United States constitution.

Poetic Blog (May 25, 2019)

It’s one of those days

Battling anxiety daemons

Wanting to run/hide

Inside my apartment.

Personal victory

Still sitting

At local library branch.

As my pulse

Reaches the point

Of an overrevved engine

About to redline.

Thankfully

Missing other signs

Of a full blown

Anxiety/panic attack.

No hyperventilation

Sweating trembling

Or feeling weak/tired.

Not sure

About trouble concentrating

Or thinking about anything

But my current issues.

At times

So hyperfocus

I lose contact

With reality.

As if

I’m living

In another world/universe.

Those attacks

Are my scarious ones.

Especially

In public places

Nowhere to hide.

Sighing.

Life sucks

At times.

Therisa © 2019

By The Dwindling Light (May 23, 2019)

First they came for the socialists, and I did not speak out—because I was
not a socialist.

Then they came for the trade unionists, and I did not speak out— because
I was not a trade unionist.

Then they came for the Jews, and I did not speak out—because I was not
a Jew.

Then they came for me—and there was no one left to speak for me.

Pastor Martin Niemöller

We’re entering

Another Dark Age.

Despite

Information found

So readily

At one’s fingertips.

Fear and ignorance

Have become

Violence’s deadly tools.

Extremist leaders

Preach damning words

To the masses

Like heavenly mana

Seeking answers

For their despair.

Only left answerless.

Externalizing their anger

Complicitly supporting

Their false Messiah’s

Racism and anger.

Never realizing

Are empowering

A white Christian male base.

Profiteering

From their pain.

Democracy’s candle

Flickers and flutters

In this troubling breeze

That envelopes us

Globally.

Reviving past age’s zeitgeist

Where human life was

Wantonly discarded

For dogmatic beliefs.

As human ashes

Filled the sky

Like falling snowflakes.

Therisa © 2019

Author’s note: I remembered the Jack Klugman character role (Quincy), in the late 1970s and early 1980s show, Quincy, M.E., spoke a variation of Pastor Martin Niemöller's famous quote, about Germany's complicity through their silence in the Nazi imprisonment, persecution, and murder of millions of people. Sparking the writing of this poem, comparing modern Right wing conservative extremist, with the Nazis. 

And yes, I do remember things like this, while struggling with my short term memory.

Tomb Raider (Poetic Style) (May 18, 2019)

Bravely

My mouse clicks

The poetry morgue

Like Lara Croft

Looking for hidden treasure.

Disturbing cyber-dust

From its worldwide web

Resting place.

Fully aware

Of the dangers

I face.

Traps - innocently written

Sanguining ink

On the page.

Awaiting

Careless missteps

To explode

Examining ancient poems

Written long ago.

By a stranger

I don’t recognize

Anymore.

Therisa © 2019

Author’s note: Lately, I’ve been reading more poems, from my poetic morgue, searching
for clues to inspiring my writing, as I have hit another writer’s block. Also, been posting
some of my older poems, over the past decade.

Personally, I think the Indiana Jones series of movies, is a lot better, as I never really got
interested in Lara Croft and the Tomb Raider movies or video games. For some reason,
4th Indie films is the lowest point of the franchise, in believability and storyline. It felt like
the gang got together, one last time, to draw a paycheque, from the box office receipts.  

Spilt Ink (December 14, 2009)

Can't explain

Why the ink flows easier

With depression/anxiety onset.

Turning out poems

At what seems

A manic rate
For me.

Reaching parts

Of my soul

Locked tight.

Never sure

Who or what

Will emerge.

Often

Not understanding

Other’s reactions.

Whether

In joy or sorrow.

Wishing

I knew

Why.

Only seeing

String of letters

On the computer screen

Or written page.

Always

Questioning my ability

Never believing

It's good enough.

Therisa © 2009

DEPRESSION (ACROSTIC) (November 28, 2011)

Despondent

Ebbing

Pain

Regressing

Exile

Sleepless

Sluggish

Intense

Oversleeping

Numb

Therisa © 2011

Poetic Blog (May 16, 2019)

Today is

One of the least liked day

That I’ve to endure

As a tenant

In my apartment.building.

Why

You ask?

It’s the annual testing

Of the building’s

Smoke detectors.

.

Wish

I could describe it

Properly

In the right words

For you.

Cascading anxiety attacks

Have left me

A visibly trembling

Physically drained shell

Of myself.

Worse part

Is the sporadic testing

Without any sense of timing

Throughout the building.

So hypersensitive

To any sudden noise

That I’m jumping

At the slightest sound.

Imagine

A cartoon cat

With its claws

Dug into the ceiling

And that’s me.

Even now

An hour later

My heart is

Still beating

At an accelerated pace.

Another 2 more hours

Before it’s safe

To reenter my unit

And crash out.

In my now silent

Bedroom

For awhile.

Therisa © 2019