Inspired by the Moody Comic (or Amaryllis)

Not long ago, I read this SMBC comic.  It made me write this sonnet.

 

Every day I look forward to seeing

Your shape beneath the yellow fever trees

For a short moment, I feel you freeing

This heart within me my chest seems to squeeze.

Sighing, I admire the dappled sunlight

Kissing your pink blushing tips and your leaves,

And though my clumsy descriptions will slight

I weave in my mind what my eye perceives.

And as I compose, I find new colours

In your trumpets facing every which way

Has every part been described by scholars?

Or have you kept some secrets to this day?

Oh belladonna, you enrapture me

Scentless, your curving petals capture me.

Amaryllis belladonna

 

 

In The Mind

storm_by_bokor-deviantart

(Credit: Bokor on DeviantArt)

Her mind grew dark

As the wind picked up.

The growing storm

Threatened to pull

Strands of consciousness

From her head.

She went down deep

To a cavern

Where the water was completely still

And clear

And bottomless.

On the shore,

With her candlelit thoughts,

She waited for dawn.

An Empty Speech Bubble

reflection_of_the_galaxy_by_alierturk-deviantart

(Credit: alierturk on DeviantArt)

I made an empty speech bubble

And tried to fill it with stars, I found swimming in a night sky.

But it was only a reflection in still water, which had tricked my eye,

And I slipped on the smooth stones.

Drenched, I shivered, as the cold gnawed at my bones.

And I tried again to fill the bubble, this time with fish wrung from my hair.

But they died, gasping for air,

And my shadow rose up behind me and laughed at me,

And my silly notions of filling the emptiness. ‘Like piss in the sea,’

It told me. ‘But the sea is full of life,’

I thought, as I cut the shadow from my feet with a knife

And stuffed it in my bubble.

Wolf Haikus

 

Grey ghosts in the woods

Deer run over moonlit snow

Snarling, white turns red

gray-wolf-snow-nationalgeographic

(Credit: kids.nationalgeographic.com)

Howling fills the air

Tumbling cubs at their centre

United and strong

wolves-howling-fact-fixx

(Credit: factfixx.com)

Lazy den morning

The cubs gnaw bones and catch mice

Half-closed eyes watch them

76 Broken Pieces

broken_by_rcgraphics-deviantart

(Credit: Broken by RCGraphics on DeviantArt)

Picking a piece of china from the floor,

Half a woman with a parasol in blue ink.

Would life be tidier if she were on her own?

Or emptier?

 

Picking a piece of mirror from the sink,

Six dark rimmed eyes stare out at her.

Would life be simpler alone?

Or lonelier?

 

Picking a shard of glass from her cheek,

She dabs at the blood with a Kleenex.

Would life be less painful?

Or more so?

 

Picking a shard of abuse from her mind,

She would never find anyone else.

Would the world be brighter?

Or would she be swallowed by the darkness?

Alice

alice-madness-returns

(Credit: American Mcgee and Electronic Arts)

Screams.

I remember through the smoke,

Flames licking up the walls.

The rabbit showed me the way out,

And as I stood there watching the fire

With a group of strangers

More screams

And I recognised their voices.

And it was not over when my childhood home was a black ruin.

It was not over when the orphanage swallowed me up.

It was not over when Dr. Deadeyes told me that some memories are not constructive,

And I dissolved into a swarm of blue butterflies.

No.

The screaming will never be done.

Homemade Clothes

small_cell_lung_ca_zorkun

(Credit: Cafer Zorkun, wikiDoc)

I sew clothes from silk scraps and cotton sheets.

The donators think their contributions go to the third world,

But they go to this one,

Right here.

They go to my three children and me,

After having been through my algae green, foot pedal driven sewing machine.

And I know it’s wrong to lie to them, but ever since I saw the x-ray of Dewey,

My son,

Ever since, I saw the thing, which should not be in his chest,

I have seen everything through cloudy glass.

It makes everything

flow together and it

Blots out all the small things like lying

And stealing.

And if I can steal my boy away from death

I don’t care how expensive the treatment is

And I don’t care

Who has to pay for it.

79 Starvation

lasting-bones-by-js4853-deviantart

(Credit: js4853 on DeviantArt)

A skull half covered in sand.

Daffodils bound with a blue ribbon.

Both in front of a beach house.

The waves crash, agitated.

He must have known that daffodils are her favourite flower,

But it did not help him.

The wind picks up, uncovering more bones.

She did not throw him even a single scrap.

And he starved.

How long?

bearded-vulture-by-sonja-krueger

(Credit: Sonja Krueger)

Her skin burns.

The air ripples over the dried up riverbed.

A deep breath brings rosemary and thyme.

Smoothed rocks dig into her back, but she is completely still.

Above her, several vultures circle.

How long until they land?

How long until it is the bone breaker’s turn?

How long until she will be gone,

Absorbed into this dry oven with tall towers of layered limestone?

The hot air scorches her nose and catches in her throat.

Much, much too long.

She Used to Dance

dance-bekissable

(Credit: BeKissable on Deviantart)

On the porch with his violin.

At sunset, he plays everything

That used to make her dance.

 

He is alone in the house now

With cobwebs and squeaking windows

Since the forest took her.

 

One summer I brought him small talk,

Groceries and many questions.

No answers ever came.

 

When I looked over my shoulder,

His silhouette was a statue

Staring at the forest.

 

It seems very painful with the

Memory and forest so close

One should think he would leave.

 

But he seems to be waiting and

At sunset, he plays everything

That used to make her dance.

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