maltrusting and skirting
penumbral lines blurred
against falling rain
cutting lacuna coils
into the night
oh mortal you
trapped outside these
chalked white hills
a song in your head
given to bone
Category: writing
lacuna coils
Photo by Merlin Lightpainting on Pexels.com Winter
Photo by Elina Sazonova on Pexels.com “I told yer ma, that’s a season — tain’t no name for a girl,” her father used to tell her when she was young, before he had choked on all that ash that started falling from the skies and died. He was never one to wear a mask, and refused to cover his face after the Ashfalls began. The particulates, buried deep under the earth until recent years, made quick work of his cigarette-ravaged lungs.
“I n’ver did know why she gone did that, but she made me promise to name y’that after you was born.”
“Maybe it was because my hair was white as snow?” she would always suggest, knowing the answer even as she said it. It was a game they played, this conversation of theirs.
(more…)grendel me
gone to heath
Photo by Ovidiu Cozma on Unsplash my head has gone to heath
mottled stone of lichen
passing steel or passing sun
under rain and dampening
cold the wind whistles wending
through the heath stones
that make of my head
slender spaces shimmer quiet
thin be'twixt and 'tween
here upon my hillock of dreamtossing a rune — 10jul25
ansuz campfire pops & crackles
set the song's rhythm
spirits remain mute
surrendering space
to night's denizens
so they may sing, tooAnother rune poem of mine, where the rune is selected at random.
Today’s rune is ansuz, which has a core meaning “a god” (intended to be Odin), “mouth” or “breath”. Odin is representative of many, many things… in this case, ansuz is most representative of the mouth/breath (speech) that gives life to poetry, magic, song, language, and spirit — largely inseparable in the Viking worldview — and Odin is considered the supreme master of these intertwined concepts.
frost on silvered glass
Photo by Andres Siimon on Unsplash these strange days
come slipping
between bedsheets in
the night, whispering
sweet nothings like
long lost lovers
looking for
a last lusty kiss
before our dying
our winter's
creeping fingers
appear as frost on
silvered glasselectric
Photo by Martinus on Pexels.com i do not want
to be influenced
or instructed.
i want you to
make my body sing
electric with the
kiss of your wordslong, cool rain
Photo by Cornelia Munteanu on Unsplash i wonder at the
absence of flames
my world has been
on fire almost
every day and now…
…now?
there is a long,
cool rain falling
quenching the heat
and i cannot
identify the cause,
nor why of it all
ever so slight of nervous
seeking a torch
to now light my wayThese birch
Photo by John Stirzaker on Pexels.com These birch at the riverbank, boulder-fractured of growth resting bottom of the mountain scree — they are me. Standing defiant, I insist on being though stone pushes and gravities are drawn, I drink strength of river.
Granite sings, should you open your eyes to listen. I can tune my growth to their song. I am woman, that pale goddess. And I insist you try.
Gathering of breath from wind, from rain, my arms have set to wave. For I bend, not break under the song of the heart. You would too, if only you could see.
thievery
Photo by Anastasiya Lobanovskaya on Pexels.com wearing other’s faces
i saw you stealing kisses
the consummate thief
you are
but i can see through
your disguise and lies
i can see a million miles
away
you know? it made me laugh
left laughing ‘til morning came
i tip my hat at your
audacity
