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
but to survive (and to grow),
poetry must be
filled with well-tasted living—

a life-kissed quill
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*).

Bella in Black

“Never used an Unforgivable Curse before, have you…? You need to mean them… You need to really want to cause pain—to enjoy it—righteous anger won’t hurt me for long—I’ll show you how it is done, shall I? I’ll give you a lesson—” ~ Bellatrix Lestrange, in Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, by J.K. Rowling

Night and blood
feed the flames that scream
her hollowed soul wild,

the wants marked wicked,

Bella in black is pure
magic madness,
sweet chaos. She is
love in lust with death
that thrives through torture…

…through wild, forbidden

Bella is tortured.

a wee note…
– Rommy, over at the Imaginary Garden with Real Toads, invited us to write a poem from the point of view of a fictional villain. She wants to know what makes them villainous. Are their depraved ways justified by tales we haven’t been told? Or, are they just plain rotten? I chose unstable, malicious, insane, love-starved, Bellatrix Lestrange, from the Harry Potter Series.

“Bellatrix Lestrange”, by NLMDA

With Brains

“I am no bird; and no net ensnares me: I am a free human being with an independent will” (and the plotting skills of a healthy psycho) ~ Charlotte Brontë (and moi).

My silence blooms
forests of mistakes
in inert minds.

It’s almost sad to watch,
to hear mouths spew, “Quiet
girls are like seedlings,
don’t fear them—
they don’t know enough
to be dangerous.”

I don’t need to join
the bright of the larkspur bud,
to show the strength of beauty
and poison;

you see (probably not),
I’ve already plotted
my way into your mind.
I fight like a girl—
with brains, naturally.

Yes, that’s me you hear
inside your head, cutting,
spreading, taking…


the wee notes…
Larkspur: a stunning plant that can cause excitability, disorientation, muscular twitching, stiffness, seizures, death… The seeds and young plants are especially poisonous.
– Linked to the Imaginary Garden with Real Toads ~ Out of Standard (Signs of the time): Isadora asked us to find an image of a protest sign and use that phrase in a poem that is not political. I chose a sign that read: “I fight like a girl”.

detail from the cover of Fight Like a Girl, by Clementine Ford