My Wailing Howls

Brendan asked us to “find [our] still place in a poem.” Because “in times of turmoil within and without, the carved language of poetry can provide a rare bower of grace and wonder. When all is seemingly lost—and, strangely, especially, sometimes only then—a singing heart can find its grail.”

“My Wailing Howls”

Woe sinks teeth
in my fleshy bits
and I scream

not.

I breathe out
my wailing howls
and run
for the trees:

Nature always knows
how to love me,

and brings me back
from the brink. 

When woe sinks teeth
in the fleshiest bits of my being,
I fly for the woods
remembering: My love grows
on trees…

even on the butchered,
bloodied bits.

.
the wee notes…
– Linked to the Imaginary Garden with Real Toads (Sunday Mini-Challenge, Still Points) and to Sanaa’s Prompt Nights (Brevity’s the flower that contends not with bunch, rather it blooms).
– Woe’s teeth have been specially sharp these last few days. May we all find our loving woods.

love-grows-on-trees

Spectre

There are so many choices… Some slick and smooth and glossy and prepared to show me the world after just one touch. One or three can bring me fanciful pleasure, if I only give them an arm and a leg and most of my uncommon sense. I am tempted. So tempted…

For hours, which are centuries hiding behind screen glares and keyboard comfort, I roam the realm of electronic chaos… Temptation is not enough. My frugality and I can’t choose.

A gent clad in blue says, “She won’t get too hot on your lap. And if you are a little rough, she will be able to take it. She’s made of sturdy stuff.”

I am rough. I like sturdy. But she is a tad too steep.

My Piano Man reads the struggle in my face, and reminds me, “Frugality is often steeper, in the long run.” His sage tongue-kisses my qualms, and I start tilting towards temptation…

In the long run, I’m enthralled by her name—Spectre: “a visible incorporeal spirit, specially one of a terrifying nature; ghost; phantom; apparition… some object or source of terror or dread.”

to dance with dark words,
the new Spectre has become
my charming laptop

.
the wee notes…
– I had all sorts of fun writing this haibun—it marks the culmination of my computer shopping, and every word of it is true. Also, it felt nice to write something heartwarmingly creepy… especially after scaring one or three of you half to death with “We’ll Always Have Smoke Signals”.
– Linked to Sanaa’s Prompt Nights—Obsession continually fills or troubles the mind… (by the way, for a short while I wondered if adding this to an obsession poetry challenge would be pushing it a tad much… Then I remembered that most of us are quite obsessed with our electronics *and as always, by “we” I mean “me”). Also linked to the Imaginary Garden with Real Toads, Tuesday Platform.
– And, just so you know, although it was only about a week… I freaking missed you!

gothic-womanvia
(yes, the spirit of my laptop looks rather lethal in a corset *cough*)