Reflection

There is something ritual about it,

the morning stock-take

of new imperfections

sleep softened but dawning

in the mirror’s first take cut.

 

Some can be teased or tweased

slipped beneath another skin,

of crafted contours,

folded to hide the everyday

not found anywhere but reality.

 

The tally builds like glass bottles,

one hundred hanging on a wall

but if one should fall

there shall be ninety-nine

and a smile to hide its absence.

 

When there are none left to shatter

you will see the shell crack,

hollow and so deathly dark

even the light whimpers, wanes

and withers into something cold.

 

 


 

Daily Post: Ceremony

Myth Lost Lover

They carved a mirror out of shadows when you died,

just to pull your reflection from it,

held the silhouette up like a man

full formed and walking

despite the brittleness in his limbs

when he reached for anything other

than the stories they planted inside his mouth

like the kisses I used to keep there

when the world receded with the tides

on blue moons and snowy days in June.

I alone knew that you did not smile in that way.

I alone knew the curve of your mouth

was remade backwards,

the bend of your nose lost beneath legends,

a scar on your palm,

no longer than the width of one finger

healed by their songs.

If we had laid together I would not recognize the man they’d forged,

even your eyes changed colour

in the light of their voices.

In the end I had to learn to let them keep you

this other version of you,

that I did not own,

and I did not know.


Daily Prompt: Famous (Also inspired by Madeline Miller’s ‘The Song of Achilles)

 

Tempest Temper

You doled out temper tantrums like hard gums,

sugar flecked jellies

that locked my jaw

kept me mute

while you spun words into waterfalls and rapids

that broke over me

like I was nothing more than rock

carved out to test your anger upon.


Daily Post: Froth

I’ve been writing longer poems for NaPoWriMo this month so I went with a simple quardille for today’s daily post prompt.

Tanaga – Betrayed

Tongue tied behind your pearl teeth,

I plucked roses from the wreath

of flowers wrapped round my arms

now wilted much like your charms.

dverselogo

Tonight I’m combining the Daily Post Prompt Betrayed and dVerse Thursday night ‘Meet The Bar’ prompt to write a Tanaga.

A Tanaga is a poem with four lines per stanza, and seven syllables per line. This is my attempt at writing a short Tanaga to get myself back in the poetry mood before April arrives with all the madness of NaPoWriMo.

Imagination

When I was little

I turned cardboard boxes into playhouses,

stacked them one atop another

until I’d built the tallest tower in the world

or the biggest castle ever seen.

 

The settees in the living room

were princess beds

or safe land when the carpet turned to lava.

Stepping stone cushions were employed

to cross treacherous territory

without risking loosing toe or limb

to the fiery pits.

 

In the corner of the room was a cupboard

where the toys and games were kept.

We’d ransack the two shelves

leaving them bare and empty

ready for conversion

into bunk beds.

 

Our garden was besieged by monsters

that only my sister and I

could defeat.

Defending the keep at all costs

we fought battles across the grass

and through the orchard

onto the desert planes.

 

When the games reached their end

we’d hit the reset button.

Go back to the beginning before the victory

replace the villains anew

and start over in our efforts.

 

If I’m honest,

we never really stopped playing.


Daily Post: Imagination