My Sweet Night-Mare

Living is ink and want and him… a stitched story that has never been, a knowing smile that leaves logic and metaphors ashamed of being as unreal as words never felt. We kiss in books, on grass, in libraries, in crafted dreams… full of romances written with sharp teeth and (once upon a lie) sharper truths.

Scribble me
yours, for 13 whiles.
I will be
monster and hero,
for your tale in me.

Living is ink and want and her… She reads me real in her sleep, names me sweet Night-Mare, drinker of reason, all hers, in the wicked pools of our dark.

the wee notes…
– In myth, Mares are terrible creatures, bringers of nightmares that drive dreamers insane with terror. The succubus and incubus (female and male spirits that seduce dreamers) sound a lot like mares, don’t they? In this bit of tanka-prose, I wanted to explore what might happen if a mare and the librarian (obviously) he meant to torment end up finding common ground.
– Written for the Beautiful Freaks Fest 2017, and for the Imaginary Garden with Real Toads ~ Literary Excursions with Kerry ~ Metafiction.
– If you haven’t entered my stitched poetry giveaway, follow the link to do so… commenting on this poem gives you 1 entry, if you’ve entered the giveaway.


63 thoughts on “My Sweet Night-Mare

  1. I am off to bed and this is the perfect thing to muse about… roll around on… sleep on… I think common ground will be found in the darkness as prejudices and differences aren’t as easily seen, and the connections deeper… and torment maybe a little divine x

  2. Finding peace with our Nightmares make it bearable to deal with the daytime
    monsters who roam the earth, somewhere in between we shall find equilibrium for ourselves. Lovely bit and all to true!

  3. Wow! Very nicely done, Magaly. I especially like the way you changed the voice at the end, could be the poem itself speaking.

  4. in your slumber I reside
    your restless cries of fear
    or joyful tears and smiles
    are mine

    i am the curator of your dreams

    i – the director of your sleeping theater
    costume changer
    story teller
    dancer and musician

    give you restless tossing or peaceful slumber

    in your sleep i offer brilliant diamonds
    or pounding terror of pandora’s box
    and gentle whispering wings of memory’s angels
    i am the steward of your sleeping thoughts

    i am the dreamkeeper
    …………………………………..the succubus

    +++ I have been visiting these amazing sites participating in your Beautiful Freak Show. Awesome stuff!

  5. My goodness this is gorgeous, Magaly!!❤️ Especially love; “We kiss in books, on grass, in libraries, in crafted dreams… full of romances written with sharp teeth and (once upon a lie) sharper truths.” *swooooooon*❤️

  6. Wow ….. ❤️
    This is so deliciously dark and eerie and wonderful! I just love it!!! ❤️❤️❤️ Thank you beautiful Word Goddess for yet another literary treat!. ❤️🌹❤️

  7. Deeply gorgeous..I love the dark beauty you share..always feels like home to me……and your stitched poetry is so visually potent..such creative magic!

    PS: thanks to you and Emma for creating this awesome fest!

  8. Yes… so much dreams are born in darkness… but it needs the light as will…
    the paper is as important as the ink.

  9. Ink lovers are all I have these days. I tuck them under the covers with me. I’m so glad I found some like-minded people. Thank you for sharing this.

    • Ink lovers rarely let us down. Even when they really bad, we still want them… because they have words in them. And words make everything better. 🙂

      Thanks so much for joining the Freakish Fun!

  10. Oh, my… All the angst happens for a reason, doesn’t it?!! It brought you to this masterpiece! “monster and hero” “She … names me sweet Night-Mare” ❤ ❤ ❤

    This is so random… but, you’ve made me remember a picture book I had as a young child. It was about the land of Dreams, and there were all these grandiose dreams and one Little Dream, who thought she was small and worthless, but the Nightmares (fierce black horses) would stampede across the land of Dreams sometimes, destroying everything, and Little Dream was the only one who could soothe them… Wish I knew what happened to that book…

  11. The yin and yang of this are tangy and toothy, opening and closing graphs like headboard and footpost of the middle bouncy bed-tanka. Like writing, it plunges and drips and squeezes a red sigh.

  12. This is swoonworthy. There is so much passion and dark delight in this one. The undercurrent of madness in the pleasure is well done.

  13. “I’m late! I’m late!” No, really, I know I am. I still have other entries to haunt, but this one? Oh, I like this one. Why? Thank you for asking. Firstly, those red stitches. There is something evocative about stitches being attached to words. Because words are what hold Stories together. I suppose it’s the same with poems. Every word a stitch, every stitch a carefully sewn together idea. Secondly? That’s easy… Monsters and Heroes can usually be the same thing, can’t they? Please, please put these poems into a book. A lovingly stitched together collection of all the little poetic craftlings you’ve birthed. DO EET!

    • Your comment just birthed the title of a future post, one where I share some of my process.

      I like the idea of stitching some of my poetic bits together. I’ll do it, I know I will… eventually.

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