Compost of Earthly Delights
When you think there are no horrors left
that’s when the real horrors come.
When flesh is wrung and sense is numb,
and it’s a joke that a tear could be wept,
then the stone is wet where the killing’s kept
and your spindly withered legs won’t run.
Then the rabbit's eating the toes of the nun,
and your silent scream is all that’s left.
When the scarf enfolds and frames your face
a delicate beauty, balanced, right,
that’s when a roach crawls out of the lace.
That’s when you lose your appetite.
When you think no monster’s there in the night,
that’s when the bed starts to lift in place.
April 2011
Image: The Garden of Earthly Delights, inner right wing detail, by Hieronymous Bosch, Oil on Panel, (circa 1450-1516)
the italian sonnet is my fav. sonnet form..and i really like yours joy ann - it reads unforced and lightweight..and creepy...rabbit's eating the toes of the nun...cracked me up...excellent write!
ReplyDeleteCompost indeed ... I've read (in James Hillman, "Dream and Underworld") the suggestion that dreams digest the day, breaking things down, a sort of low-brain bowel-alembic which gives food for thought, or rather, a a different view for psyche, too ruled by day by our ego.. It's nightmarish, or can be, as in this poem, where the speaker / dreamer cannot move, cannot run, cannot but observe the rule of the kingdom of the worm, coffined there in bed. Not sure what the "white foams up" refers to -- a drowning wave? -- but the rest of the images are house-of-horrors-perfect, especially the last line, which rises when the poem hits its bottom. Yikes! Hell is psyche unbound and loose in the underworld of the unconscious, unable to filter the roaring All. Rockin' lil' poem. - Brendan
ReplyDelete@Claudia don't blame me for the toes, blame Bosch. ;-)
ReplyDelete@Brendan--it's meant to be an article of clothing, not a drowning wave, though that's certainly possible in the milieu here. I rewrote it for clarity. Glad you enjoyed.
When the walls mute the sound, of all the nails upon the ground, and little wings above your head, are waiting patiently for blood red, the worms of death are encouraged by your breath,
ReplyDeleteis it best to rest, with heart thumping in chest, or leap in fright into the arms of night? When all is said and done, victory's clear about who has won, don't bother now trying to hide, they're already burrowing deep inside, finding very special places, to strip the bones of any traces, muscles, skin, and sinew, all is gone what's left of you, just bones lying where they fell, the last remnants for the hounds of hell.
Super cute! And there's a bunny in it!
ReplyDeleteOh My God Hedge Witch, you lady poet, DID it agai. Sublime sonnet and fitting pic.
ReplyDeletethanks for sharing your grandiosity... if that's a word!
:-)))
Nice take on the classic here - such a bizarre indulgence here, but it works well in the sonnet form, and comes across masterfully written. Particularly enjoyed the rabbits curious relation to the nun...creepy, Claudia's certainly right there, and atmospheric. A fine composition.
ReplyDeleteP.S. Thanks for the kind words today.
dang hedge just which level of hell did you take us to? rabbits eating nuns toes...i have it on good authority they have really smelly feet too by the way...nicely done sonnet...
ReplyDeleteReminds me of an experience I had during the sixties.
ReplyDeleteA great example, both in form & feeling.
ReplyDeleteI enjoyed the dark intensity of this poem.
Creepy, eerie nightmare and yet poured into a sonnet as in all perfect artistic works, your sonnet takes away the edge of the uneasy dream. The images rise and materialise in whole but then dissipate as essences of fear once read--the catharsis calms the fearful soul. Master of form, hedgewitch Joy! Wish I could say something more profound. Thank you!
ReplyDeleteThis nightmare of strange bedfellows slapped into a music hall sonnet of dignity is like a walk through a sideshow alley of freak shows! Fear and fascination keep us walking! An amazing piece!
ReplyDeletewhoa! dark and nice! :) and so subtle and well written into petrarch's form, I almost missed it. great work!
ReplyDeleteMonty / bummy
earthly delights, indeed..not familiar with Bosch, but now see where Dali perhaps became inspired...favourite line "that’s when a roach crawls out of the lace" love that, in a twisted sort of way...wonderful OneShot ~
ReplyDeletei'm kind of scared now. should i be? lol
ReplyDeletegreat job!
I immediately thought of how Stephen Sondheim might set this to music.
ReplyDeleteGreat title.
This poem should appear on the front page of every newspaper in the world as a disclaimer re the content. I am shocked by more and more distressing horrors each day.Your sonnet is masterfully composed.
ReplyDeleteOoooh, loved the poem, especially the rabbit eating the nun's toes and the roach crawling out of the lace......eek. Fantastic picture too.
ReplyDeleteMy Maezen says where there is shit, there is zen.
ReplyDeleteOutstanding imagery.
fascinating piece with incredible imagery. :)
ReplyDeleteMy one shot is Oracle of the Feminine. It is not the one posted today. :)
I was a nun once and I was always having those pesky rabbits munching my toes!
ReplyDeleteJust kidding, just kidding, I was never a nun, far from it. :)
cockroaches -- yuck, disgusting things.
"horror"ible poem. :)
This one's a knockout. Great poem. And it's exactly when the bed starts to life in place.
ReplyDeleteits a beautifully done sonnet ...as sonnets go...like claudia they are my fav. form of poetry ..blame it on shakespeare...
ReplyDeletecreepy gripping write hedge...
Is your last name POE?
ReplyDeleteI Loved it....
Nicely done...but there's some FREAKY stuff going on here!
ReplyDeleteLike Brian, I'm wondering what level of hell this is. Creepy and indeed horrible. That it's a sonnet manages to be all the creepier. It freaks me out. I think you did your job well!
ReplyDeleteIntense development of the paradox-- as if when you let your guard down, the psyche has more in mind for you. Underworld meets inner life...xxxj
ReplyDeleteBosch paired up perfectly with this fantastic piece of horror.
ReplyDeleteThanks now I have to go to sleep??? Nope I think a few more poems first
Moonie
This was a great sonnet !
ReplyDeletePleased I didn't read this last night before bed.
ReplyDeleteAn intense evocation of the demons which can pursue as in our dreams.
Intentionally trying to be light this week, thanks for the darkness fix. wonderful sonnet, great imagery
ReplyDeleteShades of Hieronymus Bosch all through your words...
ReplyDeleteCreepy-crawly spooky deliciousness!
ReplyDeletethat’s when a roach crawls out of the lace-- so ewily perfect. Comfort is fleeting, and so is an appetite sometimes.
ReplyDeletehey, let me try some of that...
ReplyDeletepffft, i knew it weren't really evian water, you lil sneak!
Uhh dont tell me..dont even want to go there :)
ReplyDeleteBeautifully written. I must try the Italian form; you have showcase it's merits
ReplyDeletea feast of human compost...oh what a tale...lifting the bed...you make the painting come alive making me leary of sleep and dreams of food for rabbit and cockroach...bkm
ReplyDelete"a roach crawls out of the lace" - nice. Oh, how I love Bosch.
ReplyDeleteYour first two lines (so true) put me in mind of a Dylan song: "just when you think you've lost everything you find that you can always lose a little more."
Ohhh.... I must say I was disappointed that the poem ended...like you yanked me away in the middle of an intriguing build... can you continue to build on this? Seriously.
ReplyDeleteCheers
Padmavani