All posts filed under: Poetry

#Haiku: Seeds of hope

Haiku inspired by these dill seeds in my herb garden, radiant with afternoon light. At the time, I thought of how words, like seeds, could sow, grow, nurture, inspire, cut, wound and more. Seeds: pregnant with hope on the cusp of a new beginning. What harvest awaits? © Monique Mulligan 2017 What do I want my words to sow? Not just those I write, but those I say. I wrote the draft of this haiku while sitting in a waiting room with a friend at hospital last night. And at the time, I was thinking, ‘Give me words, the right words’ to say to my hurting friend.

Take time to rest

I admit I’m not the best at taking my own advice. You know, the advice that goes something like, ‘Take a load off’, ‘Have a rest’, ‘Give yourself a break’ or, as my teen son is fond of saying, ‘Chill’. I read things like this and fully agree. But don’t actually listen. I’m accomplished at feeling guilty if I don’t do something. If I don’t produce something, or have something to show for my day. I have multiple lists of things to tick off – personal and professional – and so I usually have plenty to fill my time. But when I have extra free time, like now, in that week between Christmas and the New Year, I potter … in other words, I try to find something to do. Like sorting cupboards – filling the boot of the car with things I don’t need and can go to others who do need it. Like deciding to wash everyone’s sheets and blankets. Not that there’s anything wrong with that. It’s like I see this extra …

Haiku: Building the railway

Inspired by tales of long-ago railway workers while on the West Coast Wilderness Railway. It rained so much in the rainforest, they had trouble keeping fires alight to warm them at night. They thought it was a terrible, harsh place. Taming wilderness. For workers of old, hope was only fire that burned. © Monique Mulligan 2016  

Haiku: Softest breath

I took this photo yesterday and even though the dandelion seed is a touch blurred, something about this image spoke to me of writing and growth, of grasping hold of ideas and growing them. This morning, in a peaceful hour, I wrote this haiku. “Softest breath; wind sows seeds of life. New creations soar from fertile ground.” © Monique Mulligan 2016  

Patchwork me

Microscopic threads bind torn pieces of me; Stitching my soul, hemming in memories. New experiences appliqued over old.   This patchwork me frays when a snag pulls at the fabric of my self. And I have to gather the loose threads, and mend the tear (invisible to most) before it becomes a hole. © Monique Mulligan

I see your scars

I wrote this poem a long time ago during a difficult and painful period in my life. I see your scars: Old ones, white and raised, New ones, red and raw. Pain oozes from you As you shuffle Eyes down, Invisible walls around you Weeping tears of blood and salt. Wishing someone would help Hoping something will change Having your heart ripped open over and over Is the worst pain of all.   You can’t see my scars, They are on my soul. Look deep into my eyes They will reflect what you want to see Unless you know where to look And reach beyond the mask the smile the words that say what people want to hear: “I’m fine, I’m okay”.   Step into my soul For just a moment. Run your fingers over my scars, Rest your eyes on my bruises, Feel my pain, Share my story Just as I will share yours. © Monique Mulligan