Sparks of stardust etch stories
across gossamer bones of sky.
Glistening slits of templed tales
click like sticks unfold
tangling into serpents
threads of light
intertwining ancient ideas
casting them to writhe for us
upon the skies of now.
Several words in my poem are from this week’s wordle at The Sunday Whirl. Visit the whirl to read more poems that integrate the same words.
Jim Morrison’s poetry illuminates Slithering Sal (the lizard-gal) as she lay in the velvet lined faux cage Jerzy the circus smith fashioned her from steel with swirls of color that dance along the bars on nights that Luna shows her full round face. To Be Alone* is hers—she whisper sings it to the empty grounds from her pillowed luxury place,
practices until it becomes her. Sal gets Morrison. She gets him like no one else, and not once has she listened to The Doors. She loves to hiss the s sounds in his words as her tail coils its way across her chest.
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She’s back! Slithering Sal started in G-Man’s Friday Flash 55. To Be Alone is a Morrison poem provided in Saturday Celebrations at One Stop Poetry. I’m calling this a prose poem. I don’t know if Sal’s done with me yet, or not, but I like her. Thanks for reading.
Slithering Sal stares up at heavy circus canvas, and swears she’ll kill that fucking dwarf for dragging her in from the wet. She wanted to succumb to the elements out there, where everything is not what it is here, in her miserable paralyzing lizard-girl life where for 50 cents you too can sneak a peek.
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This is my first Friday flash 55. Take a ride over to Mr. Knowitall for more 55 flash pieces.
smoke and mirrors don’t change anything
slanted reflections always portray partial truths
cutting flesh a raven screams
and I want to go into hiding
somewhere with no windows
where my carriage spreads beneath trees
nourishing roots
and is not preserved in
satin-lined extravagance
under cemetery granite
where lights fade slowly
for the sleeping dead
bury me deep
beneath a cold night sky
while friends drum the Earth
that forms my body into place
with the children build a cairn
of smooth Montana river stones
and with each balanced rock
place a memory
a little me
a little you
a little we
a little them
laugh and talk about me
like I’m not even there
spill a little whiskey for my soul
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In good health, I wrote this piece and have tweaked at it for a few days to post at One Shot Wednesday. Thank you for reading at undercaws.
Liana cuts a trail
with the thrust of her tail
through the deep wet ocean so blue,
so blue.
Becoming one
with the current’s hum
she taxis the dead
to eternity.
Their rotting flesh
feeds gastropods
who wait at the bottom of the sea
oh yeah
(they wait at the bottom of the sea)
Eating up eternity
the ocean’s energy shifts, and
Liana gets off on the folds of change.
(Poseidon is water
Poseidon is water)
She ignores the voices in her head
preferring her oneness with ocean instead.
Water’s movement through her gills
gives Liana silent chills.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I wrote Fulfilling Liana ~ A Shakespearean Sonnet for a prompt at One Stop Poetry. This is the free verse continuation of Liana’s story. Freeing Liana.
In times of drought, Liana dreams a sea,
imagining a tail to twist and thrust.
Come mermaid me becomes her chanted plea.
Poseidon struggles hard against his lust.
Liana yearns an ocean into life;
and trances out a sodden reverie.
Liquidity belies her earthly strife;
she conjures up a deep-sea valkyrie…
Capitulating human lungs for gills
Liana breathes her last breath of the night.
She trades away the earth’s long rolling hills
as sea gods make her fervent wish take flight.
Sing out her name when tossing over dead!
Sweet Valkyrie please bind them to death’s thread.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A shout out to Sam Peralta and One Stop Poetry for the inspiration. I gave a Shakespearean Sonnet a whirl, and I like the results. The whole piece took about three hours to write, move around, etc… It was a fun process and did not wind up even near where I started. The prompts at One Stop are intelligent, as are the other pieces they inspire. Check them out.
I just wrote a free verse response called Freeing Liana ~ Free Verse.
This carnivorous gastropod’s
rasping tongue cleans the shell
of its bivalve cousin
before it retracts its
fleshy tentacles
and hides in the mud
to digest that mollusk’s clammy flesh.
It seldom wonders why it behaves
this way, it just does.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
This is my entry for this week’s Magpie Tales. Thanks for the photo, Tess. For inspiration, I researched the shell here, and also clicked on the crown shell photo there for more information.
Ileana fascinated herself with language,
but nobody ever called her poetry hotline
so she began to practice
standing still until roots
sprouted from the souls of her feet
and anchored her to the floorboards.
Just as papery golden bark began to shroud
itself around Ileana’s delicate frame,
the phone rang.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I wrote this from a picture prompt at One Stop Poetry. Visit the link for other people’s take on the picture. This is a poem in 55 words, including the title.
Inspiring transcendence,
a lotus blooms in monkey’s hand
as it dances alluring stories
on the sloping curve of my back.
A strange kinship radiates bold wishes
between us, and we sleep
until devious monkey
wakes and stomps out
its joyful song through my torso’s
enchanting labyrinth.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
This piece is from the wordle found at The Sunday Whirl, where poets create pieces with a dozen specific words and post glorious results.
Restrictive imagination envisions stories of lust run amok. Fueled with late night cocktails, Eve chases comfortable fantasies down familiar avenues that always end in bed alone staring at the ceiling wishing it were anything but beige. Until Play posits its challenging proposal and
intuiting illuminated spirit, lilies tilt toward her. Eve dances out a current that calls upon her blood. Gyrating, she spins and whirls— pulling spirit threads from her beginnings, from long before she ever took a breath.
Waking, Eve rocks teetering her totter in her birth’s very bed. Night’s nourishing thread fills her emptiness. Restriction lifts and Play laughs aloud, as Eve strokes its appled cheek.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The Prompt at We Write Poems came from poet Richard Walker. First, the prompt, then I’ll tell you what I did with it. “One, select a prompt from a site like Poetic Asides, Writer’s Island, Sunday Scribblings, or One Single Impression. (Maybe even select two, letting them modify the other in some way!) This will be the topic or theme of your poem. Two, select some words from a site like Three Word Wednesday or A wordling whirl of Sundays.
Now consider the intermix of your theme/topic and your words. How might those words help you explore, expand or define your theme? Or does your topic further open, leading down unexpected avenues as you play with your set of words?
Trust your poetic intuition and imagination! Please don’t feel restricted to the “current” theme/word postings for these sites referenced. Use prior postings if that’s what most serves the new poem you’re beginning to envision. Make your poetic cocktail something comfortable, or something challenging – all your choice.”
That was the prompt. After reading Irene’s post, I shot off from her idea and selected twelve words from the above prompt to create a wordle. If you use the wordle for a poem of your own, let me know! My only other prompt to myself was to write a prose poem. So there you have it, The Resurrection of Eve.
(I did not use the word “prior.”)
Adventures in Poetry and Writing
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