Petals

Picking the petals off a daisy
‘she loves me
she loves me not
she loves me’

anxiety has rebounded
fighting within herself
doubting her abilities
questioning her value
demands pushing her
cornered, a trapped dog

picking the petals off a daisy
‘give me more
I have no more
give me more’

fear sucks out her breath
suffocated in her pain
questions her imaginings
closed doors, phone calls,
hidden meanings dance
swimming in her mind

picking the petals off a daisy
‘he loves you
he loves you not
he loves you’

only way out is herself
she sleeps without rest
has felt this all before
fear revisited, a reminder
she isn’t invincible at all
strength, a fragile thing

picking the petals off a daisy
‘I am worthy
I am not
I am worthy’

©Brenda-Lee Ranta

 

Primordial

She heard the whirring sound of her fan,
rain pelting her window above her head,
soft chimes tinkling in a neighbor’s yard

Enveloped by darkness, head deep in her pillow;
familiar feelings, the sweet security of childhood,
ensconced in soothing sounds, in downy hugs

Sensory pleasures ignite primordial emotions,
the visceral is awakened, sub consciousness
returning us softly to the womb; its darkness

swaddled in its warmth
lulled by its sound

 

©Brenda-Lee Ranta

Silent be the words

Wrapped legs encircled him
a lovers embrace; flesh on flesh
heat flushed faces, droplets on brows

Hips, thighs, undulating dances
ferocity of the Tango, stiletto beats
staccato movement, torrents of exaltation

Sacred is the dance floor of linen and lace
ravished by candlelight, trembling limbs;
redundant are words when bodies are speaking

 

©Brenda-Lee Ranta
Photo Pixabay.com

Morning Thoughts, Blessing to You <3

One of the most renown, women in the past century, Mother Theresa of Calcutta, was once asked a question.  Her response was brilliant:
“I was once asked why I don’t participate in anti-war demonstrations. I said that I will never do that, but as soon as you have a pro-peace rally,
I’ll be there.”

A visionary, albeit highly enlightened, Mother Theresa touched on a poignant fact; it is impossible to fight negativity with negativity.  Can we really stop war by waging war?  Can we really have equanimity, when we profile people based on skin color, clothing, sexual preference, sexual gender or social status?  In fact, more would be amassed as a human race, if we lauded the diversity, see the beauty in our differences rather than focus on what is not familiar.

Should we sit idly by and just let geo politics subjugate people?  Should we be silent when physically challenged persons are ridiculed?  Should be looking at persons who wear clothing that is different, as a potential terrorist?  Fear is a part of our lower nature and has no place in human interaction; for there will be positive and negative attributes in every human being.

In conclusion, I am with Mother Theresa on this one.  After some deep rumination on the subject, I agree, the word “Anti” anything only invites
more Anti something.  So let us be:

Pro peace
Pro inclusion
Pro-active approaches
Pro transparency
Pro inclusion
Pro equanimity
Pro human rights
Pro universal health care
Pro diversity
Pro green environment
Pro love
Pro freedom
Pro dignity for all
Pro fairness
Pro education
Pro women’s rights
Pro all lives matter
Pro honest government

Let us raise our voices in Pro Love…

c.w. Brenda-Lee Ranta

 

Woven Tightly

She had a proclivity for being a mother;
an inevitability, as sure as breathing
It was the innocence she longed for
in each baby’s face, the purity of soul
that touches our earth in bursts
with each new life
with each new heartbeat
with each first smile
with each sacred gift

Knowing childhood to be a brief miracle,
the inevitability that each child grows
It was the responsibility that awed her
through passing years, hoping she’s been
enough, done enough; instilling in them
human values
empathetic hearts
selflessness
kindness for all
self-love

She had a proclivity for loving deeply;
grateful for everyday she was “Mom”
Looking back at fatigue, unkempt rooms,
teen-aged angst, serious decisions,
her children’s victories, their defeats
She would never
have missed one
moment of it
memories of them

woven tightly,
forever in her soul.

©Brenda-Lee Ranta

woman-585955_1280

 

Help Lady – Author Brenda-Lee Ranta

Another excerpt from my book, Allegories – a Thirst for Connection”

Creative Talents Unleashed

Borrowed family, broken boy

 

Mr. Jinx tucked under his arm

the ‘help lady’ stands with him;

he squints at the pretend Mom

and Dad; the borrowed family

she smiles too wide, speaks too

slowly, like he was a deaf boy;

he pats his shoulder, like a buddy,

but he’s just some weird, tall man

‘help lady’ tells him it’s going to

be fine, he will like it here, he is

safe; squeezing Mr. Jinx tighter,

there is no such thing as safe

the house smells funny; not bad,

but not like home, it smells like

soap, like flowers, something

sweet, his throat tickles a bit

he thinks it is the middle of

the night, he feels sleepy, has

a sore stomach, when they take

him to a bed with fluffy pillows

Borrowed family, broken boy

‘help lady’ leaves a bag in the

corner, it’s his clothes; he saw

her…

View original post 341 more words