Wholed by Ink

Over at the Imaginary Garden with Real Toads, Kerry invited us to write a poem inspired by Clarence White’s Morning. The image—a woman in a nightgown, sitting on the edge of a tub, thinking… in front of a window—made me think of moonlight, storytelling and such. So, here’s my poem:

 

I am dark stories
glittering, ragged wings
wholed by ink,
nightlight risen
through shadow and storm.

 

the finished piece brought to mind this painting by Shelle Kennedy

also, the original poem is a blackout

this is what it looked like before the inking and stitching

 

Linked to Poets United.

 

She Wants

Before our eyes and hearts and feels… get into what “She Wants”, I wish to inform everyone that I have updated my cyber-home’s Privacy Policy, to be compliant with the GDPR. After delighting in what “She Wants” (yes… I, too, have noticed that I truly enjoy typing the words “She Wants” *cough*), follow this link if you wish to read the Privacy Policy in all its slightly tiresome glory.

 

“She Wants”

She loves him best
while asleep.

In love, obsession
grows out of want
improperly sated.

She wants
never-ending
days
filled by lust
spilling…
out of him
into her.

Her nights are made
of his lips on her hip.

In dreams,
he feels her
real.

She knows dreams best
but prefers him
awake… in her dreams.

 

in her description of this painting, Shelle said, “fairies are born of belief, and die through neglect…” I’m sharing the piece because (well, I adore Shelle’s work and) believe her words are also true when it comes to dreams

linked to Hedgewitch’s Friday 55 and Poets United