(with thanks to Cosy Sheridan)
Words on canvas hide beneath pigments
Words on paper hidden in prose
Words in eyes hide behind laugh lines and tears
Words on lips hidden behind frowns and smiles
Words suppressed buried in the
mind.
Words unsaid secreted within the
heart.
Love unspoken concealed within a
dream in space and time
Emotions camouflaged
Meanings hidden in shadows
What a difference a day (or two) makes—
21st Minute, of the 21st Hour, of the 21st Day, of the 20th Year, named 2021, of the 21st Century
Once
Worn down, exhausted
Burned out, bedraggled;
Rode hard—Drained inside and out.
Now
Worn out, oh so tired
my candle flamed until my light burned down;
Risen up—Drained without, but fulfilled within.
Ronda R. Scott-Marak
© 21 January 2021
There always is a moment...
just before it happens…
Before the pain, before the wonder
before the instant, all life’s changed.
A fleeting microsecond
always too brief to remember…
Before the revolution, before the transformation
that the moment after brings.
In the breath before awareness
why does no one ever marvel…
that just before one knows it
the rest of life begins?
Ronda R. Scott-Marak
© 6 May 2009
(For Ross and for Clark; gone too soon, a day apart)
You can’t catch lightning in a bottle, even if it’s as big inside as a Tardis.
You can’t capture thunder in your hands;
ride the stretching of tectonic plates like they were electronic bulls,
or tsunamis like the Silver Surfer flying on galactic winds.
You can’t harness the elements any more than you can turn the Apocalyptic Horses into a team to hitch your wagon to a star.
And yet, how else does one understand how some rare people seem to accomplish all the above and walk away laughing.
Ronda R. Scott-Marak
© 19 June 2020
An ordered cacophony of colours; tomatoes, melons, berries.
Burgundy carrots spooning green wrapped golden corn; gnarled roots and silk fringed ears, embracing misshaped potatoes piled in tubs.
Garlic scapes entangle with piles of saffron and emerald marbled squash; purple onions, and stalks of celery and kale.
Riots of tints and hues; fruits and beans, beets and greens, apples, grapes, and plums. Yellow cheeses and berry pies, piles of funghi, loaves of bread compete by touch and scent.
Bottled jellies, pasta of every shape; sauces and spices, peppers and herbs waft booth to booth meeting coffee, tea, cider; sizzling sausages, and frying dough.
Zinnias, roses, dahlias, and sunflowers; freesia, gerberas, and mums; choose a bouquet or stems.
Ronda R. Scott-Marak
5 September 2020
Friends, Family, Hot baths, comfortable breezes, good books, calming and enlivening music, security blankets, birdsong, beauty, love, life, laughter, soothing rain and warm sunlight; virtual and near conversations, real and distant hugs, smiling eyes under shields and over safety masks; grace under unimaginable pressures, and gratitude for survival.
Ronda R. Scott-Marak
© 26 November 2020
(dedicated to the Café)
When We all take each other’s arms, hold each other tightly, raise each other, and keep each other together, none of us can fall.
Our connections; linked minds, hearts, and arms will pull us back up unless someone drops back and leaves us all to tear each other back down.
Ronda R. Scott-Marak
© 8 January 2021
A Nomad in No-Man’s Land;
A walker in a warzone, paddling through Life’s puddles.
A Rider on the rainstorm;
A Flier over barren fields, or at sail atop an empty sea.
What happens next is on the tip
of the tongue;
Seeking…
Discord or Harmony?
Ronda R. Scott-Marak
© 5 January 2021
