Sparkling Imperfection

Odilon Redon, Head of a Woman

Sparkling Imperfection

I make no resolutions—
for now, my house is cluttered,
my clothes are folded,
or sometimes not.

Yes, ought to, thought to–but
no resolution need be made
to love my children as they are,
without conditions or strings,

they fly on their own capable wings.
while I go on, flawed but mostly happy,
plan what could be,
and strive to enjoy what is

the fizz, the pop,
the joy in every day, marked
with mental asterisks, neuron pin-points,
that twinkle–

sprinkled stars
on life’s textured patches,
pieces in a collage,
messy, but glowing,

growing, then slowing
a full-color work-in-progress. A life.

For Punam’s dVerse prompt on resolutions, she asks us to write a poem inspired by 5 pieces of advice. I found it difficult. I don’t make resolutions, so I hope this satisfies the prompt.

52 thoughts on “Sparkling Imperfection

  1. I absolutely LOVE this one, Merril. That’s the secret, isn’t it? Take the little joys every day and focus on them. The clothes can wait. (So to speak.)

  2. It certainly does satisfy the prompt. Who does keep resolutions? That’s why I don’t make them either. I like the varied way your rhyme id carried through to the next stanza, e.g. “what is

    the fizz….”

  3. “the joy in every day, marked
    with mental asterisks, neuron pin-points,
    that twinkle–”

    Gorgeous lines, Merril Thanks for dropping by my blog


  4. Sounding like ‘freedom’, Merrill. I identify with every bit, I often leave my underwear in my clothes basket on a cardboard box next to my dresser, just use them as needed. My favorite is your summation, “while I go on, flawed but mostly happy.” Yay!! 🙂

  5. I wish more parents thought like this, I remembered a poem by Khalil Gibran and read it again, your poem reminded me of these lines specifically,

    You are the bows from which your children as living arrows are sent forth.
    The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite, and He bends you with His might that His arrows may go swift and far.
    Let your bending in the archer’s hand be for gladness;
    For even as He loves the arrow that flies, so He loves also the bow that is stable.

    Just lovely, Merril.

  6. I think you more than succeeded in the challenge. Personally, I take this poem personally. It’s my own little poetic take on my beliefs also as a woman/mother/wife/Being. Thank you, again, for sharing your soul with me. My soul relates.

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