Tag Poetry

Haibun Monday – This is my realm

freyathewriter 26 Comments

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

freyathewriter 15 Comments

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.

Irrelevant anyway – DVerse Open Link Night 258

freyathewriter 6 Comments

in the face of –

darling, you simply don’t have what it takes – 

you have to believe that you do.

because if you don’t, then what the hell is it all for?

what is it for,

if you are a mere memory, ever fading, whispered on the wind that will never brush your long-gone skin?

what is it for,

if your life’s work is only what you have created at the behest of others,

filed away in a forgotten archive

until, archive found, a person never to be known to you decides that since

your name is unknown to them and unknown to whom they are beholden

you were irrelevant anyway?

 

and then you are gone

 

what is it for,

if you cannot believe in yourself?

what is it for?

what is the essence of you?

what does what you have left behind

 

say,

 

about you?

 

do not let them tell you

that for which you yearn is of no relevance

that the only way is the way from which you turn

that success is not worth chasing

that the aching in your bones is only physical

that you can take pills for that

that you can put all that to one side

 

that

 

is wrong.

 

Keep writing.

That is who you are.

 

This is my belated entry to the Dverse Open Link Night, that lovely poets pub was open for business for poetry old and new, of any kind. I, on the other hand, was not open, so I hope there are a few poets lounging around today, nursing a pint of craft beer or a single malt whiskey.

It surely isn’t too late to take part – why not pop on over there to join in or just read some varied and wonderful work?