Wild Wants and Wicked Grins

Kerry, over at The Garden, shared artworks by Kaoro Kawano and Henri Rousseau. Then, she invited us to paint some tanka. I, of course, could not refuse such a noble call. So, after some serious grinning, I crafted the bit below.

.
She breathed crimson tales
of wild wants and wicked grins,
never fearing death.
Chant her words into your world
and her soul will dance in bliss.
.

the wee notes…
– Yesterday was Plan Your Epitaph Day, and my birthday was 2 days ago. So… celebrating with a poetic epitaph makes complete sense.
– I’ve been writing tanka without capitalization. Today, I felt like trying something new.
– Linked to the Imaginary Garden with Real Toads, Kerry Says ~ Let’s Paint a Picture.

“Dream” (1950), by Kaoru Kawano

Self-Rekindled

Write of longing for home, of wrecking a home, of offering sanctuary to strangers in one’s home. He said other things… But my mind had been claimed by the thought of a house that was not a home, of a stranger who had to break a cage before building a home for her Self. And I wrote.

“Self-Rekindled” 

Barely veiled,
inside the bits of her
that are hers still,
she suspects
backtalk is a thing…
just not in his home,
not under the roof
she didn’t choose.

Her natural Self, the one
fighting to re-sprout,
twists inside her bones.
She sees her will
warping
under his damage—
with thought and tooth
abrading his might,
weakening her bindings.

Self-rekindled, she resists
his old kicks… and births
a choice, a real home
for her Self.

.
the wee notes…
– Expanded from one of the first blackout poems I ever crafted, which came to mind after a long conversation with an old friend, a glance at “Rebirth” by Magic Love Crow (see below), and Brendan’s prompt at the Imaginary Garden with Real Toads ~ Home.
– Linked to Prompt Nights and to Poets United.
– Yes, I’ve noticed… My ellipsis affliction has become quite serious… Must seek help…

“Rebirth”, by Magic Love Crow

Intelligent Sex

She wanted to know if I could taste a three or see the color of birdsong. And I said, “Have you looked inside my brain?” I hear the heat and dark of coffee calling on my tongue—threes taste of Crossroads at midnight, and birdsongs are rainbowed. All right, I didn’t say any of that. But I sure was thinking it, and that has to count, right? What I did do (say that thirteen times fast) was craft a poem with my answer in it:

“Intelligent Sex”

His grin tastes of wicked books
flirting in a library
made of whiskey and dance.

“May I feel your thoughts?” I say.

His eyes touch my hips with a Yes,
oh yes!
that is all passion-
flower and maca root to my ears.

Are you mine? I feel him sing.

I let him taste the answer
in the arching of my back,
in my pulling of his hair—
I am woman, my skin screams,
I am all mine. But I share
when I want…

…and right now, I want

intelligent sex,
red-scented… tasting of Jazz—
aphrodisiac

.
the wee notes…
– I first wrote this poem as a haibun, but it didn’t feel right. I trimmed the prose and created line breaks, but left the haiku untouched—that bit felt just fine. And in case you didn’t notice, I should point out that this was a freaking blast to write.
– Maca root and passionflower have been said to enhance female libido *cough*.
– Linked to the Imaginary Garden with Real Toads ~ Synesthesia, and to Prompt Nights ~ “Women are the real architects of Society”.