The Departing

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Departing

 

 

They met in meadowsweet and rue

when the moon began to sicken

when her breath began to thicken

when the golden note was stricken

from the songbird-ingenue.

 

The melancholy flies

buzzed the compass that was broken

ate the opium, her token

for a malady unspoken,

her copper curse of cries,

her pomegranate skies.

 

He held her hand again

though the remedy was shattered,

though all was lost that mattered,

tho someone's blood still splattered

as the now replaced the then

and the hand let go the pen.

 

All in white she'll be

when they walk to their last wedding,

when they meet what they've been dreading.

When last lustre becomes a leaden

shroud above the sea, there'll be

 only he.

 

 

 

 October 2021

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

a second effort for Fireblossom

at The Sunday Muse

Note: This poem was written with the aid of a word list I culled from Poe's The Fall of the House of Usher:

 

compass

lustre

pomegranate

shroud

rue

remedy

malady

melancholy

copper

opium eater

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Image via Sunday Muse, attribution unknown, Fair Use

Three Wheels

 

 

 

 

 

Three Wheels

 

 

 

I dream the ghost;

an old woman who sits staring,

tendril-wrapped in the cold wet

wood with her soft face

washed away.

 

I dream the ritual;

an old woman who pedals

fast, pedals frantic, hunched

simian over three thin wheels

meant for a child.

I see the flooding quarry

and what they dig there that

 must not be found. The old woman

pedals madly, seeing all that goes

around and round.

I dream the Völva;

a grey woman who throws back

her unmade face and howls in runes,

traveling Time with red eyes

she calls from night.

I hear the pack's full cry loping

as one; to rend, to tear, to save

the secret moon before

she can be dug

from the water and sold.

 

 

October 2021

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 posted for Fireblossom

at The Sunday Muse

 

 

 

I have written this roughly in the cadralor form, tho I have taken a few liberties with it. 

 

 

 

Process Note: Völva: "A Völva is a female Shaman in Old Norse culture, religion, and mythology..A Völva practiced three different kinds of indigenous magic within Old Norse society: Seiðr, or shamanic ritual, was the ceremonial weaving of a new or different future..Spá, or prophecy, was the art of foreseeing the fates that were being continuously woven into existence by the Norns.. Galdr, or incantation, was the art of singing or chanting for the purposes of changing or influencing an outcome..." ~Shieldmaiden's Sanctum

 

 

 

 

 

 

Images, both via internet, attribution unknown.   Fair Use.

Hungry Ghosts And Thirsty Spirits

 

 

 

 

 

 

Hungry Ghosts And Thirsty Spirits

 

(a sonnet)

 

 

 

 

What gift could the dead of the living want

if not to pour again the living's light,

that whiskey warming throats of dreams they haunt;

to sing, to laugh, to lose their drowning night.

My dead are old yet various and new,

the dancing sparks of a youth that ran away.

The love we had so tenuous and blue

flickers out the past and so transforms the clay;

but when you come you paralyze the soul

with heart-remembered cold like glacier melt;

a frozen thing so trapped by pure control

will feel the same negation we once felt.

Take back the miseries living in your eye.

Don't bring me where the sun forgets the sky.

October 2021

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

  (with apologies to Poe and the entire 19th Century)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 a little something for All Hallows, at dVerse Poets

Open Link

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 Images: Styx,  © Marius Lewandowski  Fair Use

Author and title unknown, via the internet.  Fair Use

 

 

Red Smoking Mirror

 

 

 

 

Red Smoking Mirror

 

 

 I.

 

That was a hell of a poem, that one.

Some captive of war, some harem

woman, spilled her guts to you

flayed away all her hide

to bare nerve.

You

picked it up and wore it

just like mine, our wrists flapping,

bloody faces making masks

for yours, cut lips singing

all your 

butcher's songs.

 

II.

It's plain I said, I need to make a pyre

of all these undead fears and burn them out.

Oh no, you said, there's never enough fire.

Make garments of your fears' flayed skins and shout,

for loving's a red coal beneath your feet

and being loved a poem you can't complete.

But I turned off that voodoo child advice

when I saw you line them up like bowling pins

for your mumbled brujeria to hypnotize.

I left; now all my words are my own sins,

 

spells of blood are broken for a price,

with ravensong in dreams and peace the prize.

 

 

 October 2021

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 posted for Poetics

at dVerse Poets

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

brujeria: (Spanish) witchcraft, sorcery, black magic

 

Process Note:" In Aztec mythology and religion, Xipe Totec [pictured at top] or ... Xipetotec  ("Our Lord the Flayed One") was a life-death-rebirth deity..[the god] was also known by various other names, including Tlatlauhca, Tlatlauhqui [or]Tezcatlipoca ("Red Smoking Mirror")... [he] is represented wearing flayed human skin, usually with the flayed skin of the hands falling loose from the wrists...Various methods of human sacrifice were used to honour this god. The flayed skins were often taken from sacrificial victims who had their hearts cut out..."~wikipedia

 

 

 

Image:Xipe Totec as depicted in the Codex Borgia, shown holding a bloody weapon and wearing flayed human skin as a suit.  via wikipedia    Fair Use

Red And Gold

 

 

 

 

 Red And Gold

I.

Under my feet bright bodies

of leaves, mast from the oak, crunch

of all the discards of summer, fire's coming

crackle; percussion accompaniment

to sweet smoke of raked heaps burning

where you stand smiling,

match in hand.

II.

Peridot green under amethyst clouds

the after-storm sun bent the grass back

with sudden heat, as you bent my bones

with one touch, onyx eyes

closing on summer's fire

while the last light left brushed the waterfall's

singing to red steam.

III.

Around my skin a white pelt of

frozen water, my remembering numbing as wind,

 howling hard as a cast-out wolf ten states

from its pack, too old to fight

too full not to cry,

 under a sharp sickle moon

that sees nothing at all.

IV.

Rolling wheels on warm red dirt

over the creek, around the bends where 

trees hide the climb, mask the descent,

 shaking their gravid buds in the rage of air

pushing me, pulling me,

past the point where words

could make me stop.

V.

Every season dies around me,

every leaf, every white-muzzled wolf

in my wilderness, each golden October

burning red under the match

til nothing is left but the journey

I reverse night

after night in my sleep.

October 2021

posted for Meet the Bar: Cadralor plus Nobel

at dVerse Poets

Images: Autumn Leaves, Lake George, NY, 1924 ©Georgia O'Keefe   Fair Use

Red Dirt Road After Spring Rain, author unknown, via internet.    Fair Use

 

October Light

 

 

 

 

 

 

October Light

 

 

 Many things 

are called lilies

which are not, yet these are,

still lilies

by October light

 

these graceless stalks

brown shriveled sticks

reaching dead hands

for the gone

 summer sky.

 

Time has burned them

the dry wheat's color,

taken their sundance of petals

scarlet and gold

yellow as morning,

 

even the memory of

that feasting scent

that 

drunked the bees.

Still lilies grow  

 

for October 

is the cup earth has made

 for midsummer's wine.

Seeds and stem

bulb and root, burnt or bright,

still lilies, alive by October light,

out of sight, and it's best you know

for pulling hands

always

kill what they sow.

October 2021

 

 

 

 

posted for Sherry Blue Sky's

Collateral Beauty at earthweal

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Note: While it may look "messy," leaving the ground undisturbed in fall and the dead stalks of lilies and other flowering plants in the garden during winter is important in providing habitat for beneficial insects and certain pollinators like miner bees,which overwinter in the stems. See  Fine Gardening's Provide A Winter Home For Beneficial Insects  and Nesting and Overwintering Habitat for Pollinators: "While flowering plants provide pollinators with food, insects also require suitable shelter for nesting and overwintering. Most bees and wasps create small nests beneath the soil or within dead plant stems or cavities in wood."

 

 

 

Photos ©joyannjones,  2021

 

Stone Alive

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Stone Alive

 

 

Deep 

in the night-colored morning,

far from your 

gravitational pull, your need, 

your wailing hustle that

flickers like sleet,

 

I dream

the lives of stone,

the green

absolute monotony

of warmth.

 

I drift

in the memory of

their breath,

alive among the 

sleeping.

October 2021

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 posted for Quadrille #137

at dVerse Poets

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Images: Stones, © Ivan Shishkin    Public Domain

Colonial Graveyard at Lexington, 1891 © Childe Hassam   Public Domain

 

 

 

Mirror Moon

 

 

 

 

 Mirror Moon

 

 

 

There wasn't much left of the moon

when they got done with her.

They walked on her face

turned her rock and dust

blood and bone

to specimens and souvenirs.

Only her bright eye 

stayed open, and her broken lips

still formed the oldest words.

 

She was seen

because she'd learned to

give back light, heat, the radiation

bombarding her, her severed mouth

buzzing at the mad, at poets and priestesses.

Split between fire and ice

shadow and sun, she made a mirror for

silver darkness, perfectly alone

in an array piercing infinite night.

There was not much left of me

when you were through;

a circled eye half blind,

a mumble of separated lips

lost to reason. I found myself

sistered by the moon; she knew me

still despite the shatter

and with her borrowed light

she let me shine.

 

 

 

 

October 2021

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

posted for

The Sunday Muse

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Images: Untitled, author unknown via Sunday Muse Fair Use

Night, 1905 © Mikalojus Konstantinus Ciurlionis Fair Use