Wednesday, December 12, 2012

Mousehole



Mouse




Mousehole





I scream in the night
for the rescuers
but there are no sirens, no
flashing lights traveling
a moonscape of ash.

I lie down on the floor
open my mouth
pretend I'm a mousehole
so something
will come and live with me here.

Something closer than skin
warmer than frost at
heart dead void; it can be small
even as small as a sin
creeping in.

A warm twitch-nosed mouse
or even an unquiet imp
would be company enough;
dogs only sleep
and I let them lie.







~December 2012


Posted for   real toads
Challenge: Fireblossom's Wednesday Friday
The illustrious Catblossom has delegated this prompt to her accomplished acolyte Fireblossom, who asks that we write about disaster and cataclysm, or something. This is probably 'or something.'




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35 comments:

  1. Loneliness and isolation is disaster enough.

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  2. dang...that second stanza in particular really got me...laying on the floor and opening your mouth so something can come live in you...what a vivid and dramatic picture of loneliness...tight write hedge...

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  3. A warm twitch-nosed mouse
    or even an unquiet imp
    would be company enough;
    dogs only sleep
    and I let them lie.

    This is so appealing as is the photo of the mouse.

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  4. Joy- I've been trying to think of what to say. Expressed so well it hurts. It's like appreciating the blues or a sad love song. Listening to John though..I think that even when you think you're losing it, there is hope.

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    1. Thanks, Scott. Indeed there is,and sometimes you need to lose it to find something better. I see the writing as a crucible where I melt down emotions into something useful, instead of letting them gnaw and disrupt. Once this season is over, it's a countdown to spring. And even in deep winter, there's the smell of the tippings, yes?

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  5. The idea of making one's self into a mouse hole in order to attract a mouse (of one sort or another) seems obvious *after* you have written it, here; but I bet no one but you would ever have come up with it. It's perfect, and utterly expressive of what you're after with this piece. A mouse, or its little entranceway, are so humble--of little note to almost anyone. Still, and at the same time, the image evokes warmth and shelter and "home" with at least one warm companion. (VERY warm in the case of the hell-spawned imp).

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    1. An imp is just what I need for the permafrost. ;_) Thanks, Shay. Great prompt, as always.

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  6. This truly does speak to desolation.

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  7. yeah, but next thing ya know, the mouse moves in, then his kids, sick Aunt. They leave the seat up, eat all the crackers, run up the phone bill. It never ends, and they wont leave.
    Seriously, this is a very touching write on moments of alone and how the mind perceives it.
    very nice, Hedge

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    1. Thanks rick--definitely made me smile. I just read your blog post--I hope you will find a way to keep writing, and let us know where you eventually end up. There's always Weird Press.

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  8. Loneliness and being alone can be most depressing. Any living thing to keep company would be welcomed. Great write Joy!

    Hank

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    1. Thanks, Hank. I'll be by to see you soon.

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  9. Yikes. This is vey chilling despite the imp. K.

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  10. You have such a knack for creating a picture that connects to strong emotion. That second stanza knocked me back a bit. The longing for "Something" is profound in your well-written piece.

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  11. Oh gosh I just can't get the image of mouse climbing into my mouth out of my head now. And I like mice. I guess I like mice not in my mouth is the thing. You make me think such strangeness Hedge... I like that about you.

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    1. yes, well--it's a metaphor. So, no, no mice in my mouth either. But I do like them also...elsewhere. Good to see you DA.

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  12. I so loved this poem - and the poor wee tim'rous beastie in the photo.......as Shay said, who would ever think of using one's mouth as a mousehole, for company? I have definitely been thinking way too inside the box:) Loved it, kiddo.

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  13. That second verse struck me so hard...what a fantastic write.

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  14. Such a unique way to portray loneliness, or the sense of a senseless life: make your mouth in to a mousehole and invite something in. I imagine this as one of those awful middle of the night anxieties which doesn't quite dissipate at dawn.

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  15. beautiful, yes. and that's obviously Frederick, the mouse who collected words and colors and the rays of the sun. :)

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    1. I had to look up Frederick, the mouse poet, and thank you so much for the introduction Marian--I need to think about gathering those rays and saving them up...the illustrations are charming, also.

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    2. oooooh my favorite. so glad to be of service! xo

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  16. Good Goddess, you created a moment of pure terror and complete loss. Brilliant!

    http://www.kimnelsonwrites.com/2012/12/13/forced-learning-curve/

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  17. This is its very own kind of terror.

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  18. Letting in "the ectoplasmic brother from the other side" I would understand. This excellent poem frightens me into thinking of the possibilities when I feel that alone. The answer is only music and then food, lots of both.

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  19. Those moments of aloneness seem to sneak up on us when we least expect them. Your response is spectacular in its originality, Joy. You truly are a poet.
    K

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  20. Joy Ann, so, here I am listening to Edith Piaf and then I read this. Well, need I say more... Excellent use of metaphor.

    Pamela

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    1. Thanks Pamela. I will be doing some blog catching up this weekend to see what you've been up to. I love Piaf.

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  21. Hey, I really got this. That far down is so hard, yet you have the playful touch of the mouse and the imp. Sounds like the voice of a survivor to me, and you are that and more! Peace, Amy
    http://sharplittlepencil.com/2012/12/13/speaking-my-mind-real-toads-3ww/

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  22. I'd be glad to crawl on over and keep you company! I get lonely and cold in the gray winter months as well. And I promise not to chew up your walls if I can live in your mouth!

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    1. Sounds like a plan. You'll have to leave during mealtimes though, for your own safety. ;_)

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  23. LOVE LOVE LOVE this, Joy!

    Happy Holidays!

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  24. I see a mouse hole and shudder... yet, it is a place of comfort for something/someone, isn't it?

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'Poetry is an echo asking a shadow to dance' ~Carl Sandburg