Family PortraitWhen her venom is boiling I shake, sneak Back into my church mouse home. I speak formally— Silks brought over the sea. I tiptoe, Round corners after looking first. I will not wake the beast— The long scissor teeth, Eyes and tongue sharp as razorblade, They cut through words— Rude remarks, like ice As if they were air. The paper woman— Flimsy and iridescent, Mouth named snake— Is plastered to the wall, A poorly hung family portrait. Set aflame— Venom hits like a match— She is charred beyondFamily Portrait
WoodlandsYou, a featureless face— A moon. Tree bark forms creases like knots above your brow. A man more myth than reality— One I’ve carved from old fables of what love should be, One I’ve kept hidden like a child’s treasure box. I, naïve to faults, Faults I do not care about, Cracks in character and realism, Hollow a tree to hold you inside. It lies behind a lake where I would have drowned, A year before you. I hoard you, Remove us from the otherworld— We belong in stasis, As fantasies of the amorous. Us two, kin of soul&Woodlands
Rare DecencyI am an innocent woman— A rarity of decency. Our kind— We hide under barrels Like ally cats— We are Lorelei’s, Singing of solidarity. We ice the windows Of less scrupulous women Like Death’s arrival, A chill to those who’ve lost. We fall Like every solitary piece of snow— Singular in shape and form, Uncaring to the imminent melt— We know nothing lasts forever, Not even innocence.Rare Decency
| The day you died I went into the dirt, Into the lightless hibernaculum Where bees, striped black and gold, sleep out the blizzard Like hieratic stones, and the ground is hard. It was good for twenty years, that wintering-- As if you had never existed, as if I came God-fathered into the world from my mother's belly: Her wide bed wore the stain of divinity. I had nothing to do with guilt or anything When I wormed back under my mother's heart. -Electra on Azalea Path Sylvia Plath. |
Thank you Carrie Bradshaw.
xo!
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I am a poetry admin for *DailyLitDeviations.
interested in collaborating?
writer, photographer, painter, whatever(er) -
I'll mix with words with anything you've got.
[link]
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You may be right
I may be crazy
But it just may be a lunatic you're looking for
Turn out the light
Don't try to save me
You may be wrong for all I know
But you may be right
I have the bell jar, I have been meaning to read it for ages. What Orwell have you read, I think he's a brilliant writer - well, was.
Thankyou for, and please keep up said brilliance! xD
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Men die for their religions - love is my religion - i could die for that
Guthrie
:iconTheWritingCompany:
[link]
The Bell Jar is an amazing read, but I feel like it might be more a woman's book. That sounds incredibly sexist, though haha.
I've read Animal Farm and bits and pieces of 1984. He's a great writer. I seem to have this horrible feminist streak in me, though, when it comes to reading. I usually end up reading female authors, which you can tell from my favorite writers section. Well, save for Orwell.
I will try to stay brillant, but I make no promises haha
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This wasn't just terrible, this was fancy terrible. This was terrible with raisins in it.
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(I play with rhymes, but never reason.)
Check out my gallery: [link]
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