Heart Bits

Today, the Sunday Mini-Challenge, over at the Imaginary Garden with Real Toads, is being hosted by a stunning and uncannily modest lady “looking for seemingly sweet lullaby-like poems, which ooze… creepiness.” She said to “Craft them fun, write them dark, make my inner-giggling-child want to run far, far, far.” So, of course, my muse and I tried to please her. I’m also linking “Heart Bits” to Poets United (Poetry Pantry, 306).

“Heart Bits”

When the moon’s so full it blinds
and time’s Wheel is wolfing June,
find six dull eyes barren of minds,
rip out their hearts to a gory tune.

Be not too choosy about the eyeballs
and leave no heart feeling the cull,
just swing your scythe (see what falls!)
while blood dances in your skull.

Craft moonlight into horizons
and liven things up with heart bits,
invite a crow to wear your rubies,
to watch you feed the night
from where it sits.

La Luna, by Magic Love Crow
“La Luna”, by Magic Love Crow
(This beauty lives in the home of Debra, She Who Seeks,
humming dark moon lullabies all night long).


The wisewoman grimaced at the sight of the gore covered little thing. It was bald like an egg. Her shifty dark eyes open wide, as if she had figured out the meaning of existence.

“A perky one,” the wisewoman said, handing the babe to the tight-lipped father.

The mother studied the babe and smirked at the father. No words passed between the couple, but the silence spoke the father’s feelings into the wisewoman’s head: You’ve spawned another of your kind, witch. There are seven of you now, and only one of me.

The wisewoman didn’t like the look on the father’s face. The shine in his eyes could have been the dawning of tears, but his kind didn’t cry much—it was probably dammed viciousness. She stood in front of the trio, extending her arms for the babe. “I’ll wash her off for ye,” she said.

The witch’s spawn snarled at the wisewoman, and let out a howl.

The father pulled the little beast closer to his chest, faced the moonlight that beamed through the window, and accompanied his blood in a midnight Spring howl.

How does a village get ready for a moonchild? the wisewoman thought, leaving the room.

the wee notes…

– Linked to Sanaa’s Prompt Nights: “Let us walk together in the Moonlight”.

Moonlight through the Window“Moonlight through the Window”