Poe, Drusilla, Freud, Crows, a Few Ravens, and Five Ridiculous Haiku

I don’t always make haiku jokes. But when I do, Bashô wants to jump out of his grave… possibly into a pond. Are you giggling yet? Um… no? Tough crowd *cough*. Maybe you could grin with me for a bit? Why? Well, because a few days ago, my physical torturer said that I could get back to exercising. That makes me grin a lot… and grinning is contagious, my Wicked Luvs. Didn’t you know? Also, I received some yummy gifts from some even yummier friends (no, I didn’t eat them), and that, too, brings a smile to my face. Here is the booty, preceded by mildly hysterical haiku:

“Black!” shrieked the raven.
“Just like your mother,” slurred Freud,
tweaking, nevermore.
Poe, Drusilla, Freud, Crows, Ravens, and Haiku (1)

Wee crows soothe the witch,
and man keeps out of her way—
no frogs jump in pond.
Poe, Drusilla, Freud, Crows, Ravens, and Haiku (2)

Dead daisies and keys—
not to open your heart, that
Dru does with her teeth.
Poe, Drusilla, Freud, Crows, Ravens, and Haiku (3)

Headless in the woods,
Marie Antoinette Addams
plots bloody murder.
Poe, Drusilla, Freud, Crows, Ravens, and Haiku (4)

Above autumn leaves,
wee Drusilla’s grin suggests—
tonight, one will bleed.
Poe, Drusilla, Freud, Crows, Ravens, and Haiku (5)

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I’ve already thanked everyone for their gifts. But I want to send a second giant, “Thank you!” to Stacy and Emma. That way, I get to remind you that Magic Love Crow (Stacy) and Little Gothic Horrors (Emma) make wonderful art that brings all kinds of bright to the heart. Fly by their cyber-homes and let their muses put huge grins on your face. 😉

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Wee (just in case) Notes:
– Sigmund Freud had a cocaine problem.
– “An Old Pond” (frog poem), by Matsuo Bashô
Drusilla Amarantha Tepes, the Only… has been known to bite. Her tales are listed on my Stories page, under “Camp Cute, Creepy (and quite conveniently) Remote”.
– Wednesday named her doll after Marie Antoinette, condemned to death by guillotine.
* “Wednesday” print (a gift from Emma) is the work of Michele Lynch.

In Mazes, Create

The pain-shroud spilled over her all, day and night… blackening her dreams, drowning her living in the bitter-salt that had to be wept, if cleansing was to be had. Hurt cries scarred her heart’s skin, blemished the veil that separated her mind’s eye from the world, and named her existence eternally dark. “I’m walled in a door-less pit that overflows with black, black, pitch-black stagnation that’s penumbra over my Self,” she said. “No flesh, no bone, no soul could survive this. How could I!”

black flowers
in mazes, create—
ink treasure

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Process Note: I’ve linked this poem to the Imaginary Garden with Real Toads’ “Micro Poetry” prompt. Since the word “Micro” seemed to be glaring at the prose section of my poem, I was only going to link the haiku bit of this haibun. Then I got curious about how one might count the lines that compose a haibun (my poetry forms knowledge is rather limited). I read this article on Haibun Today, and it shed little light onto my line division issue. So I visited the word jungle (Wikipedia) and found this wee bit: “Prose poetry is poetry without line breaks in accordance to paragraph structure as opposed to stanza.”

Out of deliciously selfish convenience (I really wanted to share the haibun *cough*), I interpreted the quote to mean that there aren’t any real line breaks in the paragraphs of prose poetry. If this is true (and I have no idea if it is), then “In Mazes, Create” contains only four lines. Micro and the Muse are aiming some seriously suspicious looks my way; and somehow, I doubt that I can fault them for it. What do you think, my Wicked Luvs?

In Mazes, Createblacked out from Johanna Basford’s
Secret Garden: an Inky Treasure Hunt and Coloring Book