Tag: poetry

the coldness of the moon (20160711)

crow4 Comments

the feelings appear
like a sudden moon
shining in the night sky
darkness ripped away all at once

but the stars are so small
and so very far away
far away from me
far away from each other

i will own this sadness
though it’s not authentic
this melancholy that turns
like a record in a jukebox

that spreads its roots
like a tree growing
from my chest, bursting through
bones and sinew

i will carry it
because letting go is cowardice
and facing it is cowardice
and writing this is cowardice

—–

for
the secret keeper
Weekly Writing Prompt #45
OWN | TURN | SHINE | TREE | STAR

and
The Daily Post
Daily Prompt: Cowardice

a long time ago (20160710)

crow4 Comments

my pulse dances in your veins
no small victory for me
knowing that i once moved you to wonder
to see more than obscuring clouds
more than the blinding sun in the sky

mukashimukashi, i saw the heavens part
and though the angels were not visible
i felt their eyes upon me, reducing
my organs to ashes
i hold them out to you now

——

for
the secret keeper
Weekly Writing Prompt #44
MOVE | SMALL | WONDER | DANCE | PART

midnight snack and repercussions (20160707)

crow17 Comments

i slip out of bed
tiptoe to the kitchen
through
midnight house darkness

meatloaf
awaits me
in the fridge

in its own congealed juices
it needs companions
brown bread
mayo and salt

eaten cold
eaten silently
eaten quickly
it settles happily
in the gut

but in that house void of lights
except for charging phones
the loaf delivers
hours of indigestion and
nightmares on chipped, bleeding hooves
until breakfast

——

for
The Daily Post
Daily Prompt: Darkness

proiectus (20160705)

crow5 Comments

use a plane
the kind without wings

take me apart
one layer at a time

each strata reveals
subsurface fossils

memories, anger, fear
desire trapped in amber

light shines through
bright enough to cast shadows

old bones glow
beneath translucent skin

my insides projected
against the wall

——

for
The Daily Post
Daily Prompt: Layers

norns (20160703)

crow9 Comments

the woman sits at the loom
thread in her hands
she measures a cord
an arm’s length equal to
the length of a man’s life

if she coughs
or bored, looks out the window
as she pulls the skein
the measurement
might lack

if she sings freely
a song that makes her smile
or remembers a boy lost
to all but memory
she may add an extra span

she adds no knots
weaves no pattern
that task goes to
a sister already tangling
measured threads

the pattern and the knots
disguise the true length
hiding years, hiding dead ends
hiding where the third sister
kissed it with her blade

——

for
the secret keeper
Weekly Writing Prompt #43
SONG | WOMAN | FREE | NO | LOST