New poem

Oct. 12th, 2017 06:15 am
carose59: poetry (by Henry Gibson)
[personal profile] carose59
 Daffodil in the Snow

 

When spring comes, the daffodil blooms.

 

Dark days of windchill and sleet cannot dissuade her;

determined, she sprouts up through ground hard as hate.

Though spring seems so uncertain one can barely dream of it, she harbingers

the sunbeams.

Up through the snow, she forces herself,

holding her fragile blossom valiantly aloft in the freezing breezes.

 

She's a light when the deep night seems never-ending.

She sustains hope and cheer even as the sky pelts her with its blistering tears.

 

Crushed by winter's weight, she collects

sparkling bits of frostbite

hail

and freezing rain, wearing it like a diamondy wreath around her tired head.

 

Even in the barren, twilit days, her sweet green song of blackberry winter

never wavers,

and her heart—light and graceful as a summer swallowtail—flutters far above

the lowering clouds.

 

Snow-bound, she is still a daffodil, beloved cousin of the sun,

shining when even that daystar fears to face the storm.

 

 

 

Just as you, my dear, with your bright golden gladness,

have always been a lovely,

brave

daffodil.

 

 

 

—Monica Rose Kiesel

carose59: dreams (whose mind watches itself)
[personal profile] carose59
They Have To Paint Me Red Before They Chop Me. It's A Different Religion From Ours. I Think.*

-:- -:- -:- -:-

It was the 1800’s. There was a young woman visiting a house in a desolate part of what I think was maybe England (there was a lot of Wuthering Heights in this dream as well). She heard stories about another house where something evil dwelt, an evil book, something with the doorway to Something Terrible. Naturally, she was curious and went to visit the house.

There she found a couple of old servants, a man and a woman. They were very friendly and greeted her warmly. This wasn’t what she’d expected, and it put her off her game a bit; she expected to have to pry information form muttering, closed-mouthed, hostile strangers and instead she was greeted with warmth and hospitality and treated like a friend. So she didn’t ask about the evil, which had begun to seem unlikely anyway. Or at least not very serious.

But there were odd things. The servants talked to someone who didn’t seem to be there, and there was a falling down castle ruin with a huge portrait of the Heathcliffish master of the house. It was at the top of a stairway that no one was allowed access to. The servants pointed this out as they took her on a tour of the castle. Naturally she wanted to climb the stairway, but the servants’ friendliness made it impossible for her to sneak away and do so. The girl was frustrated, but she was having a pleasant time and began talking about going back home and maybe coming to visit another day.

But then the master of the house arrived. In person, he was less Heathcliff and more Mr. Rochester in a good mood. He was very charming and wanted to show the girl around even more, and take her on a picnic. The evil was no longer in the portrait—which he took her to see because he was very proud of it—but was now in a dress and it would take you over if you wore it.

The four of them walked to the woods to have their picnic and on their way, it got dark out. That was deemed unimportant, they could have a picnic in the dark, and it wasn’t actually night; it was just dark in the daytime. The girl, who had been quite adequately dressed before was suddenly naked. This didn’t seem to bother anyone until the girl started to get cold.

So, out of the picnic basket the servants took a ruffly black dress with white piping and gave it to the girl. It was the dress of evil and the girl happily put it on. But nothing happened to her, except that the dress was too big and she had to gather it up in the front and hold it closed so it wouldn’t fall off.

Then she and the man were alone together in the woods and he was making love to her—in the old-fashioned sense, that is, talking to her very intensely about how much he loved her and wanted to have her with him, only he had this dilapidated castle and a haunted woods and something evil that lived in a candy box.

(It wasn’t that the evil was moving around, it was like the dream was retconning itself as it went along; every “change” changed not only the present and the future, but also the past.)

He’d also stopped being so Rochester and had become a nice but troubled man with a slight drinking problem. The girl wanted to stay and marry him.

Only she had to go back to the other house to get her things. She was very happy. In the morning she was helping the old woman with the laundry and in the basket they found the boc of candy with the evil in it. The girl was very happy, very light-hearted, and said she didn’t believe in the evil anymore and opened the box of candy. Only there wasn’t candy in it, there was soap, little decorative soaps. So she ate a piece of the soap and the old woman smile because the evil had been in the soap and now it was in the girl and things got every dark and there was going to be a sacrifice of two small rabbits and then the evil would take over the world.

The girl was still very happy, eating evil soap.

And that’s when I woke up.

Throughout the whole thing, there was an undercurrent of malevolence from the old couple. They wanted the girl to be possessed by the evil. And the girl didn’t seem to take the evil all that seriously, but watching, I knew it was serious and something terrible would happen.


*Ringo Starr

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They were like big, angry marshmallows!

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