Crystal Tear

Try as I might
there are days my heart is fragile,
a crystal long stemmed wine glass,
transparent, light refracting my  
turquoise blue, weeping tear drops

Try as I might
unable to hide it well, sadness
in fragmented edges, fearful that
one abrasive, careless action will
tip me over, smashing me in pieces

©Brenda-Lee Ranta
photo courtesy of Pixabay.com

The Return

Wading waist high through
Alyssum, Angelica, Burdock,
twigs attached to her pant legs
Her childhood home consumed,
strangled by bramble and scrub,
now hidden away like treasure,
waiting patiently for her return

She could see it now, a once
grand veranda, her balcony seat
for the cacophony of crickets,
frogs, interspersed with fireflies;
performing for her alone, the
moon – a spotlight over black
moving clouds in night skies

Climbing the steps, sidestepping
glass shards, missing boards, that
creaked beneath her feet, in her
approach to the weathered door,
to the door handle she had turned
a thousand times, to the waiting
arms of her mother; scents of home

Cheeks wet with tears, longing to
transport herself back to innocence,
a joyful life in this majestic house,
no longer skeletal remains of a past.
Pushing the door open, she returned
to childhood, faded toile wallpaper
of red and white, Mommy’s choices

Pencil marks still on door jambs
that measured her height year after
year, still visible, her life preserved,
archived for her inevitable return
A house called to her for twenty
years, whispering to her; now it
confirmed she was home again

Finally, exiting the house, walking
back to the road, she lovingly tore
down the ‘For Sale’ sign, which hung
haphazardly from the old wood fence.
A glorious smile resting upon her face.

©Brenda-Lee Ranta
photo courtesy of Pixabay.com

 

Metaphor

Ageing is the unravelling of a ball of wool.
In the eyes of a baby, they notice the
very rustle of a leaf, follow the cry of a
bird, pluck daisies from the ground, chase
the wagging tail of a puppy; try to catch
snowflakes in their mittens.

In the eyes of a baby, they turn their face
into the wind that flutters their hair,
upturn vision to the sky, wonder at clouds,
point at night stars, see the moon
as a beacon, shining through
their window at night.

Toddlers seek our caress, wallow in it;
wrapping arms easily about our neck.
They study their fingers, wiggle their
toes; look quizzically at their own
reflection in the mirror, little noses
imprinted on the glass.

Ageing is the unravelling of a ball of wool.
Desire for speed dissipates, replaced
by an old curiosity. We hold the rose
to our nostrils, breathing in it’s scent,
noticing the beauty of each petal, the
intricacy of it’s creation.

Rising suns become splendour to our
eyes, marvelling at the morning mist;
a day slowly rising from slumber.
When rain touches our cheeks, we
inhale deeply, the freshness in the air
when the lightning is done.

Books gain importance; stories told
by others contain secret messages.
Old photographs, our treasures;
we speak of memories, sweetened
magically through time, through loss.
Time is our valuable archive.

We look to the night sky anew,
constellations, a twinkling mosaic,
an eclipse, miraculous, stars are
now fireworks displays, captivated
by dancing northern lights on a
late summer’s eve.

As we unravel our ball of wool,
we return again to the mystery
of existence, acknowledging a soul
in all living creatures; with reverence
of a child, returning once again
to our innocence.

Preparing our transition from where
we once came, back to the womb of
existence, back to purity of soul
and mind, we make our peace
ever so slowly with our souls,
unravelling slowly.

Ever so slowly.

©Brenda-Lee Ranta
photo courtesy of Pixabay.com

Lucid Dream

Words that tumble from his lips
become the prelude to a kiss
love the piper for his song
plays it for her all night long

Taping letters to her door
asks for less, cries for more,
wilted roses, fresh perfume
leads him to her garden room

Defined by eye, shadowed past
passions through his looking glass
not masquerade, nor mannequins
illusive thoughts assuage the sins

Vapoured tears will streak a face
swallowed fears she will erase
Taping letters to her door
asks for nothing, cries for more..


©Brenda-Lee Ranta
photo courtesy of Pixabay.com

All Your Dreams (lyrics)

Don’t be afraid to love me
hold me close to your heart
dream all your dreams about me

Won’t you sing your love songs
while every morning stirs you
dream all your dreams about me

You’re every choice that I make
You’re every chance that I take
My every thought’s about you

Don’t be afraid to love me
I’ll never leave you lonely
you’ll never find another me

So just lay down beside me
when every morning finds you
please be the one holding me

You’re every plan that I make
You’re every claim that I stake
I’d be so lost without you

So….
Don’t be afraid to love me
hold me close to your heart
dream all your dreams about me

You’re every choice that I make
You’re every chance that I take
My every thought’s about you

When in the rolling thunder
you’ll never have to wonder
My every thought’s about you

My every thought’s about you..

 

©Brenda-Lee Ranta
photo courtesy of Pixabay.com

 

Dichotomy

 

 

I am fraught with contradictions
ambiguity distresses me
but honesty caused me endless analysis

I am purely a soulful person
trying to ignore a lustful body
an enigma unto myself

Fresh sheets after a hot bath
simple satisfaction after a long day
but cashmere would be better

Conventional conversations bore me
intellectualism is exciting
but silences can ignite me

I long to be loved with passion
but simple hugs bring tears
that flood my heart

Self respect is my virtue
it is also my downfall
I am often self deprecating

I want to be beautiful and pleasing
yet I want to blend into a crowd
anonymity with a name

I imagine my body being desired
with a fire that is searing
but loved deeply for my mind

Beautiful trinkets are appealing
but it is doubtful I would wear them
feeling awkward with the ostentatious

To be unacknowledged is painful
to be acclaimed is uncomfortable
being appreciated is sufficient

I give with my entire being
or I give nothing at all
turning on or turning off

I ache for commitment
that terrifies me completely
yet soothes my need for surety

Demanding the best from myself
Expecting the best from others
knowing neither can be reality

Life seems too long
while time goes too fast;
the two have never collaborated

Look lovingly in my eyes
but don’t hold your gaze too long
I don’t want to see secrets there

I am not an actor on life’s stage
but fearful of myself
because of my transparency

When I am frightened I run
while my heart begs to stay;
there’s a toothbrush in my purse

I believe in eternity
but forever sounds empty
in a temporary world

I am fraught with contradiction
ambiguity distresses me
but honesty causes me endless analysis

Always the analysis
it beats me down every time….

©Brenda-Lee Ranta 2016
photo courtesy of 
Pixaby.com

Succumb

When we are totally spent
having wrung out the very
last vestiges of our strength,
laden bodies ache from it,
tired mind, thick and soupy

There be our vulnerability,
eyes tear spontaneously;
we are in a moment of truth
exhaustion cremating defences,
peeling us till we feel our soul

Raw with emotion, tentacles
knot themselves around our
hearts, pushing out that which
we have protectively hidden,
from ourselves – from others

we erupt, we cry,
rocking ourselves,
hugging our arms,
till finally emptied
reminding us that
we are in fact alive

we are still alive.

 

©Brenda-Lee Ranta
photo courtesy of Pixabay.com