A Caged Tongue

Nightmares are me
tongueless, my skull
a cage for thought,

my dying mind screaming,

Burst at the mouth now,
lest I implode later!

my mouth empty
of words,

dead to words.
.

Linked to the Imaginary Garden with Real Toads ~ “I Have No Mouth, and I Must Scream”.

The Poet Needs No Gloom

To create art is “[t]o evoke in oneself a feeling one has once experienced, and having evoked it in oneself, then, by means of movements, lines, colors, sounds, or forms expressed in words, so to transmit that feeling that others may experience the same feeling.” ~ Leo Tolstoy, in What Is Art?

.
The poet needs no gloom
to craft verses that swallow
the night’s dark—the world
chants of darkness, waiting
to be written into lit words
that speak of all life.

Poems aren’t always self-lived
moments;
but to survive (and to grow),
poetry must be
filled with well-tasted living—

a life-kissed quill
inspires
thought and feels.

.
the wee notes…
– Linked to the Imaginary Garden with Real Toads ~ Tuesday Platform.

Blacked out from handwritten poem bits I share on Instagram, and stitched to recycled coffee filters (I can’t drink coffee, so I look for any excuse to sniff it *mad giggles*).

Self-Rekindled

Write of longing for home, of wrecking a home, of offering sanctuary to strangers in one’s home. He said other things… But my mind had been claimed by the thought of a house that was not a home, of a stranger who had to break a cage before building a home for her Self. And I wrote.

“Self-Rekindled” 

Barely veiled,
inside the bits of her
that are hers still,
she suspects
backtalk is a thing…
just not in his home,
not under the roof
she didn’t choose.

Her natural Self, the one
fighting to re-sprout,
twists inside her bones.
She sees her will
warping
under his damage—
with thought and tooth
abrading his might,
weakening her bindings.

Self-rekindled, she resists
his old kicks… and births
a choice, a real home
for her Self.

.
the wee notes…
– Expanded from one of the first blackout poems I ever crafted, which came to mind after a long conversation with an old friend, a glance at “Rebirth” by Magic Love Crow (see below), and Brendan’s prompt at the Imaginary Garden with Real Toads ~ Home.
– Linked to Prompt Nights and to Poets United.
– Yes, I’ve noticed… My ellipsis affliction has become quite serious… Must seek help…

“Rebirth”, by Magic Love Crow