'Mórrígan'

I can bathe, as a maiden thief,
under the cascade of your rage and sin;
steal the heart from your house.

I can wash, as the crone,
launder and rinse
the colour of death
from your clothes.

I was once the mother,
now womb-dead, and hollowed
in all my forms.

I am the shade and horror
of a midnight-sky raven.

I, Mórrígan.

#poetry #TashPoetry #writing

'Trace'

I hurt, ache today
and the shower was diffuse;
unable to define my substance.

I am
not my own soma,

lines of data,
introspective stanza,
a conscience poem.

Reform, regather, retrace;
remember once more.

My resistance and vehemence
dissolve, my emotions
drained of warmth.

#poetry #writing #TashPoetry

'Window'

Time, like the sun
can flow through tainted clarity --
the settled dust of settings past,
upon the windows of attention
and opportunity.

There is breeze, just by happenstance.
A fluidity of the warmth and cool, akin
to a sensory dance.

Yes, the window is open, and chance calls
but not for me.
A mind can be opened, yet barred,
to striate the shadows within.

Oh, to watch the world with such longing;
patient for a reprieve.

#poetry #TashPoetry #writing

'Carving The Flesh'

Inertia hovers, rectangular
over my bed and yet

the grave is not deep enough
to crush the fat from my head

Punch me, pierce, pinch my skin,
to test the rippling surface
of an unyielding dream.

I weigh my wanton wants,
hoping for less,
dreading the more.

Measure by defining measure;
nauseous at the bounty of God.
Crushed, not by earth,
but by a gnawing void.

#poetry #writing #TashPoetry

'The Tangled Lights'

I pass and shimmer
like a flicker in a neon storm.

A thought's ricochet
on Broadway, Times Square;
in Tokyo, Japan.

Words in printed twilight -
dying and fading,
but never by hand.

>> Love <<

Never from you, my dear;
never my heart for you
to decipher,
not for you to understand.

#poetry #TashPoetry #writing

'I Can Be Technicolor' (Part 1/2)
#poetry #TashPoetry #writing

So, home has moved on from Kansas,
though the world is still Technicolor
and the moon remains my companion,
the serene eye that watches for
advent of a blood-soaked sunrise.

I spent the night knee-deep in a war
fought with balled paper
and unwritten words
on the nature of rain
and other remorse;
an unspoken discourse
on the color of forgiveness
with a backdrop and thrum of
the songs of dead singers.

'Apotropaism' (Part 1/2)
#poetry #writing #TashPoetry

Tilt into the breeze and towards
Andromeda, my fuscae maiden
of pride and disdain — contrary, she and chained,
as I was, to the rock of filial piety,
a sacrifice in lieu of a parental refrain.

Shall we sail into the heart of a storm?
Seek, perhaps, the fate of Cetus -
the monster from my own youth,
when a child was consumed to be less,
instead of becoming more.

'A Letter To Jo'

March comes and blooms,
heady and potent,
replaces the skirts of winter.

It is so difficult, as you
know to write of
and for freedom

with apples of Eve for company,
to taste the taste of tears
of another's experience.

Choice is important, my dear fellow,
and I think

even as we redress —
change to be little women,
bound for and into
the gaze of men.

Choice is something we all
must have.

#poetry #writing #TashPoetry