The Sun Wants to Die

Sanna said “Light is easy to love. Show me your darkness.” Yep, my Luvs, she believes that the upcoming birthdays of two deliciously wicked writers (Rommy and moi) are best celebrated with dark poetry. Since I believe she’s correct, here is my dark bit:

.
the night heard
my side of our bed
shivering—
my spring turns wintry
when your heart is gone

in nightmares
my lips say nothing
of our love,
my blood refuses
to ink you and me

the sun wants to die
without you
my self grows hollow

.
“I’m almost undone,”
you whisper.

And I breathe again.

.
.
the wee notes…
– I’m terming the first two stanzas of this poem Thinner Tanka—traditional tanka calls for 5 lines with 5-7-5-7-7 syllables each. I’ve thinned mine down to 3-5-3-5-5. I like it.
– Sanaa, over at Prompt Nights, asked us to find inspiration in the work of a favorite dark poet. I chose T.S. Eliot: “The purpose of literature is to turn blood into ink.”
– Linked to the Imaginary Garden with Real Toads (Flash 55) and to Poets United.

“Woman in Bed of White”, by Linda Robertson
via

A Pristine Disappointment

Her “beauty[…] was the radiance of an opium-dream[…] Yet her features were not of that regular mould which we have been falsely taught to worship in the classical labors of the heathen.” ~ Edgar Allan Poe

Dear Master,

Although starting a letter with a quotation is unorthodox, I feel the words of your idol best describe the home I’ve secured for us. The house itself is a pristine disappointment. However, the lack of corruption mutilating our new walls will mean nothing after you glance upon the mad angel who lurks next door. I’ve included a sketch.

Your eternal servant,
Igor

.
the wee notes…
– A house behind twisted trees (see below) made me think of my beloved Poe, and of his love for the gnarled and uncanny. I went digging for a piece out of Odessa Begay’s Edgar Allan Poe coloring book, which I colored in a rather imaginative way *cough*.
– Linked to Friday Fictioneers. Visit Rochelle Wisoff-Fields’ blog, to join the fun. Then follow this LINK, to read what others have dragged from behind the fence.
– Linked to Prompt Nights ~ Fly (0ver) Friday.

inspired by Edgar Allan Poe’s “Ligeia”
colored to mad life by moi

photo by J Hardy Carroll

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