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

77 thoughts on “The Sun Wants to Die

  1. And the last two verses are Kelly lunes, I notice! (Well, if we count the last three lines as one verse with a space, lol.)

    Beautifully dark / darkly beautiful.

    I’ll see what I can dream up for you and Rommy and Sanaa.

  2. Well I laughed out loud as it reminded of my wife telling me to get in bed to warm her up.
    (So the poor thin tanka has lost some weight then? I am sure no one will complain.)

  3. What a sumptuous feast of words and images. There is a fine line between alone and together and you have played it perfectly in the movement of the poem.

  4. Whistles!!❤️💜This is absolutely breath-takingly beautiful, Magaly 😀 such fire, such deep and dark passion in your verse. Especially love; “the sun wants to die without you my self grows hollow. “I’m almost undone,” you whisper. And I breathe again.” Thank you so much for participating at Prompt Night’s (last prompt) and for your constant love and support.❤️💜

    Lots of love,
    Sanaa

  5. I agree with Thotpurge, the title alone evokes such powerful emotions. For where would be the sun’s joy without darkness! The sun wants to die…love it! I could almost hear the poem read aloud.

  6. This is superb, magaly. I especially love the opening stanza, with such well-expressed emotion:
    ‘.the night heard
    my side of our bed
    shivering—
    my spring turns wintry
    when your heart is gone’

  7. Passion’s zenith is death, fullness collapsing in a breathless shudder: The faithfulness here is to that extinguishing of the light, or rather what happens when passion loses its beloved otherness. It thrives then on night, can only find dawn in the other’s undoing. Or so my reading genie sang in my ear … A fine charm.

  8. That white nothing when love is in limbo is far more terrifying than mere darkness–this is subtle and sensual and all the more frightening for it–and a very deft turn on the Elliot line. Sidenote–I am determined to try your form of thinner tanka some day–it has an inner balance that really works well to pare things down to the essence.

  9. Your second stanza is so protective, so brace. Much like the cultures that won’t name their children until a certain age for fear that the gods will take them, she protects her lover from the notice of those that play in the deep, dangerous dark. Strong piece!

    • “…deep, dangerous dark” are a few words I would certainly use to describe certain kinds of relationships. I’ve always thought love is much like fire, wonderful and essential but it can burn, burn, burn.

  10. The visual slenderness of this piece belies its growing heat. Who needs the sun when there is that level of fire already present? That acknowledgement at the end – I nodded, but clearly with not as much satisfaction as the protagonist or her lover did.

  11. I agree with those who said it was beautifully done…but, aside from that, I also feel some deep sadness imbedded in your lines!

    • One of the things I love most about poetry is that different people can see so many different things in the same words. I thought of the speaker as anxious, but I see why sadness could jump into the mix…

  12. Very impactful and beautifully written. For me this piece conjured forth a sense of dark, moody-blue ink flowing over a very intense scene. Perhaps, it is the line: ‘my blood refuses to ink you and me’.

    On another note: I have yet to come across a tanka journal that has a problem with ‘thinned down’ tanka – in fact, my impression is that they are preferred and indicate that the tanka writer was not overly preoccupied with syllables (though I have yet to try going over 31 – lol). So thin away! I don’t know if you submit to tanka journals but, your writing is so wonderful, you might want to try Skylark – if you haven’t already – (http://skylarktanka.weebly.com). There is no cost, ten-or-so tanka can be sent by email and their tanka journals are beautiful.

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