dVerse – Poetics 427 – Incompatible

I’m a little late to enter into the dVerse Poetics night (a whole day late!), but I’m not quite back in the swing of things yet. Our lovely host has invited us to write a poem using the word ‘folly’, in whatever way we prefer. I do enjoy it when words can have different meanings, as there will be even more variety to the entries!

Why not hope over and take a look, read some of the poems and maybe even take part yourself? In the meantime, here’s my entry, I hope you enjoy it!

*****

I was caught at a moment of weakness, sure,

cast adrift on a sea of detritus all of my own making,

so I had thought, so I had told myself, so I had flagellated myself with

the endless, barbed telling,

the recriminations encasing me in a mummy’s shroud of suffocation.

You, oh so clever, ever aware, ever searching for that one, weak point

swooped down, a bird of prey to my mouse-shrunken self

and plucked me away to dizzying, airless heights,

making me yours, entombing me in your inky black soulless centre.

Oh what folly, of mine, of yours, what utter, blind stupidity.

Since when does a creature of the earth ride well with Death?

Haibun Monday – This is my realm

Over at dVerse, Frank is our capable host this evening as we consider that special time of year when the veil between this world and the world beyond is at its thinnest – Hallowe’en.

Frank has invited us to craft a haibun (a piece of prose followed by a haiku) on this very theme. Whether you revel in the ‘holiday’ aspect loved by adult and children alike, whether your preference is for the inclusion of Samhain in your seasonal celebrations, or whether you just prefer a little fear and ghoulishness, why not have a go at crafting your haibun as the night draws in?

Take part, get your word on or just have a read. There’s bound to be something that will make your skin crawl…. mwahahahaaaaaa!

Here’s my offering – I hope you enjoy it!

*****

The rain spatters against the windows, reminiscent of thousands of dry, bony fingers tap, tap, tapping on the glass, demanding my attention. The curtains, ragged and thin from decades of wear, hang loosely from the rail, too short and too narrow for their supposed purpose. The pale, glowering moon menaces through the branches of the skeletal trees. Its insipid light is no match for the heavy darkness in here.

I light a candle, observing as the match is greedily consumed by the flame, cursing as the searing heat threatens to singe my flesh. Tonight is not the night for a sacrifice, much as the season might demand a burnt offering, recalling a time of witches, stakes and ducking stools. I refuse to submit, I have fought tooth and mail for the power I now possess.

Your science is no
match for me; All Hallow’s Eve
is my dark domain.

Chiaroscuro – dVerse Meeting the Bar

It’s been a very long time (yes, I keep on saying that, I know), but I’ve been itching to get back into contributing (and therefore supporting) the wonderful dVerse Poets Pub.

Last night’s Meeting the Bar, hosted by the lovely Peter all the way from Australia, was all about sound. Let’s do a sound check, testing, testing, 1.2,3! What sounds do we hear when we write? Do they resonate, do they amplify the meaning of the words and the subject matter? I love playing with sound, whether it’s following a well-known (or less well-known) poetic patters, or by going full free-form.

Why not take part yourself? Pop over to the Meeting the Bar post, have a read, see what you think and dive in!

Here’s my contribution, which I hope you enjoy – Chiaroscuro.

He fell foul of the rule
the fool
he drooled over her –
slender, tall, willowy
of the opposite gender.

Taking advantage
of the gloom in the room,
the shade and the shadow, 
the gap

the break

the chance he would take to
throw his fate to the wind

The wind that ruffled his
waiting wife’s feathers
arousing the rage
unleashing the tiger – 
the cage
was no match
for the scratch of his nails 
marking 
his paramour’s back.

Illicit
Complicit
Guilty as charged.