Vacant Skulls and Hollow Hearts

“Learning how not to do things is as hard as learning how to do them. Harder, maybe. There’d be a sight more frogs in this world if I didn’t know how not to turn people into them.” ~ A Hat Full of Sky, by Terry Pratchett

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“You hate me because I despise sin,” she tells me. “Because I shan’t share my table with a man who beds another man.”

I look into the rapture burning her sight, and say, “I hate no one. But I’m disgusted by vacant skulls and hollow hearts.”

I have seen
hatred break a soul,
unlearn it

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the wee notes…
– Linked to the Imaginary Garden with Real Toads ~ Play It Again Toads! (Flash 55), to Rereading My Pratchett, and to Poets United ~ Poetry Pantry 352.
– If you have a minute or three check out Rosemary Nissen-Wade’s “Thought Provokers: Some Little-Known Short Forms”, which include three of my poems with Thinner Tanka in them.

 

Shadows and Rainbows

The season frolics through my words, and my soul shudders under sun-teased pleasures. I smile, delighting in the way my dark and my bright dance (free and bare) for all to read. Old Man Winter died screaming, but I don’t fret—Primavera kisses everything better.

limbs naked and spread,
awaiting spring’s blooming kiss,
dreaming of summer

Darkness and blood and thunder rip into my calm. Chaos cackles through walls of bone, chanting, “I slaughtered Tender and Quiet and fed their carcasses to Hel’s shadows. I’ve broken all your rainbows, my pet—no more brightness to brew thought.”

wild hearts are open
to pandemonium’s peace—
bring on the madness

In the beginning and before the end, I think (equally fine) in shadows and rainbows.

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the wee notes…
Primavera is the Spanish word for spring.
– Hel (Norse Mythology) presides over a realm of the dead that shares her name.
– Linked to the Imaginary Garden with Real Toads ~ Penultimatums: Voyages’ End (Almost), and to Poets United ~ Poetry Pantry 351.

The inspiration for the first haiku…

…and the heart of the last stanza.

Ugly Is Manmade

Society takes her tea with a pinch of blood, tears and unnecessary hurt. She sits in my kitchen expecting libations squeezed from flesh and spirit her goons label unworthy—too fat, too different, not tall enough, too old, too woke, too human, too unlike her hand-twisted puppets.

ugly is manmade,
the filthiest of constructs,
a poison that rots

Society’s tea cup is overflowing with teeth and broken expectations. My kicking boot is scuffed.
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the wee notes…
– This is not the first poem I wrote for this year’s Dark Poetry for the Cruellest Month. When I first thought of the topic, I intended to Protest and be Outraged about healthcare and similar issues. I even wrote the poems (I’ll share them, eventually). But yesterday, someone close to my heart told me that she felt fat, and uncomfortable with her looks. She is a beautiful woman and a brilliant soul… Her pain leaves me wanting to kick society’s ideas of beauty in the freaking jaw.
– Linked to Poets United ~ Poetry Pantry, 350.


This is a closeup of a painting by Shelle Kennedy;

to see the original piece, in full color, visit Shelle’s blog.