We Aren’t Dead

Have you ever wondered what writers like Poe, Eliot, Brontë, Stoker, Plath… would sound like on Twitter? What would they tweet about? And, if you could, what would you reply to their tweets? Well, I’ve wondered. And, as you might expect, I poetized.

.
I saw crows
pecking at soulless
body piles…
dead people afire,
humanity-stripped.

Body piles,
you said? What of teeth
and ravens?
My quill’s in dire need
of something to bleed.

Look deeper,
dear sirs, see us twitch—
we aren’t dead.
True humans will kick
‘til all tongues are freed.
.

a wee note…
– The 1st stanza of this poem is a tweet from T.S. Eliot. The 2nd stanza is Edgar Alan Poe’s reply to Eliot’s tweet. And, since I refuse to stay out of any conversation that involves teeth and fire, the 3rd stanza is my reply to Eliot and Poe. If you wish to play, visit the Imaginary Garden with Real Toads and see what you need to do to Twitter Me a Gothic Poem.
– Linked to Poets United ~ Poetry Pantry, 348.

image borrowed from @Edgar_Allan_Poe

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