A Dark-Scape of Living Poesy

Written for Has It Begun to Sprout? – Dark Poetry for the Cruellest Month, 2016 (Day 1 of 13), and for Still Getting Out of the Starting Gate at the Imaginary Garden with Real Toads

My friend Rommy and I are doing a 30 Days of Micro-Poetry in April challenge on our Facebook pages and Instagram. Our poem bits are inspired by song titles and book quotations, respectively, both offered by awesome readers and friends. Today’s quote, provided by Elizabeth Elaine, is the epitaph on Sylvia Plath’s grave: “Even amidst fierce flames the golden lotus can be planted.” I wrote a haiku for that challenge (I shall link it after I publish it in a few hours). After I was done writing the haiku, I couldn’t get Sylvia Plath out of my mind… hence the poem that follows.

“A Dark-Scape of Living Poesy”

She was fiery autumn Jazz
in the ears of eyes deafened
to all things but pale winter.

They felt her muse dance
in bone, in gut, in orthodoxy’s
belief-made backbone…
They thought her weird
was spelled by mad words.

In her fall, she birthed
a dark-scape of living poesy,
filled it with half-unreal unicorns
that the world read as horn-
less suicidal horses.

After her flesh suckled the dirt,
her muse’s lunacy was revered
into brilliance. What good
is that? Really. Do tell,

“That corpse you planted
last year in your garden,
has it began to sprout?”
Didn’t think so. But her
words, they’re blooming,
blooming, blooming…

linked to Poets United (Poetry Pantry, 296)

The grave of American writer and poet Sylvia Plath (1932 - 1963) at St. Thomas Beckett churchyard, Heptonstall, West Yorkshire, May 2011.
Sylvia Plath’s grave, by Amy T. Zielinski

Has It Begun to Sprout? – Dark Poetry for the Cruellest Month, 2016 (Day 1)

The title of this event was birthed out of a line from my favorite bit of The Waste Land, by T.S. Eliot. It feels right to start Dark Poetry for the Cruellest Month, 2016, by sprouting poems inspired by some of the lines I love most from Eliot’s work.

Today’s Prompt – write a new poem that contains 1 of the following 9 lines:

April is the cruellest month, breeding
Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing
Memory and desire, stirring
Dull roots with spring rain.

“That corpse you planted last year in your garden,
Has it begun to sprout? Will it bloom this year?
Or has the sudden frost disturbed its bed?
Oh keep the Dog far hence, that’s friend to men,
Or with his nails he’ll dig it up again!”

Link Instructions – Leave the direct link to your poem as a comment in the following format: “A Dark-Scape of Living Poesy” – http://magalyguerrero.com/a-dark-scape-of-living-poesy/

Please visit other Dark Poetry for the Cruellest Month participants, this might encourage them to visit you *cough, cough, cough*. I can’t wait to read what everyone sprouts out of Eliot’s yum!

Dark Poetry for the Cruellest Month, 2016