“That is the eternal folly of man. To be chasing after the sweet flesh, without realizing that it is simply a pretty cover for the bones.” ~ Neil Gaiman
Fear no skull,
child, bleached bones don’t lie.
with hard eyes?
Yes, mind the real reaper—
wails ooze through his teeth.
The child laughed,
following the flesh
and the grin,
and seeing zilch, missing all
hints of the past kills.
the wee notes…
– Bastet, over at MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie, is reading two of my favorite books (American Gods and Anansi Boys, by Neil Gaiman). Since these novels are part of a series where my beloved Gaiman weaves fantastically dark urban legends around the myths of old and new gods, Bastet invites us to conjure our own tall tale or poem. I found inspiration in the quote at the beginning of this post and a pair of prescription glasses I saw sprouting out of a naked tree.
– This is my first dance with Shadorma, a poetic form consisting of a 6-line stanza presented as such: (3/5/3/3/7/5). The form is alleged to have originated in Spain. The form is short and asks for no rhyme. So… you’ll probably see more of them around here. Also, they can be linked together to create a shadorma series.
– Linked to Poets United ~ Poetry Pantry, 342.
yep, it seems someone went home in a blur