Friday Flash 55

The Face of Darkness

I saw the darkness

and it saw me

It grasped me 

in blind, black fingers

holding me helpless

in unyielding grip

The darkness laughed

daring me to resist its will

smiling at my feeble efforts

to break free to light

It showed me its face

human in every conceivable way

My muse has been on hiatus or, actually, it's been held in restraints by time, or the lack thereof.  Feels good to get back to things.  This is being shared with the good folks over at One Stop Poetry for Friday Poetically, and with The G-Man at Mr. KnowItAll for Friday Flash 55.  Be sure you check both of them out.  Thanks for reading.

Shadorma

It's Form Monday over at One Stop Poetry.  This week, they're exploring Shadorma with Anne Welch. Since I discovered One Stop Poetry, I've been having a great time experimenting with forms and the many challenges they offer!  Shadorma is a syllabic poem with six lines and the structure 3/5/3/3/7/5.  I enjoyed trying it out and I'm looking forward to doing more.  This could become one of my favorite forms!  Here are my untitled efforts:


My Shadow
shady companion
dark psyche
cryptic self
hiding in murky fissures
of identity


Unformed soul
silent terror waits
in darkness
eternal
to grasp in evil fingers
the heart of mankind

Haunted

Haunted

My light, disturbed sleep
Fraught with your vague, blurred image
Soft breath wakens me
No longer a yearned-for dream
Your spirit haunts my true realm


*This poem, my first attempt at the poetic form of  Tanka, is in response to Saturday Celebration at One Stop Poetry.

Inspiration: Happy Birthday, Russell Crowe

 Inspiration

The world's a rough place

It judges a man

Can't be too hard or too soft

It's not part of their plan

Not allowed to break down

The world won't forgive

They'll remind you of it

To the last day you live

Truth is, they can't stand-

To see such a man

A man who won't bow down

Who won't play their game

A man who's not easily bound

They can't forgive you

For not seeing things their way

They blame you for being

Everything that they're not

And they're bent on making you pay.

But you don't let them break you-

You live your own life

That's the way you find grace

It's there in your eyes

It's written all over your face

The toughest thing a man can do

Can be to take a stand

But you do it every day

Yet can still hold out a hand

With  your work and your words

Every day you inspire

With a heart full of love

And a soul filled with fire

*Happy Birthday and Happy Anniversary to my favorite poet--to someone who never fails to inspire me--Russell Crowe.

Heavenly Goddess

Heavenly Goddess


The moon imagined her hair
impossibly long,
a wild, icy white in the biting breeze.


Her piercingly blue eyes
aglow amidst the jungle
of wintry, white stars.


Pale, slender limbs
entangled in the heavens
as she pointed accusingly earthward


Denouncing her impotent subjects.
Holding them to burden
for her every shameless indiscretion.


 My entry for both One Shot Wednesday at One Stop Poetry and Day #5 of National Poetry Month at Not Without Poetry. With thanks to  Prompts For Writers for the words which inspired me.

In Good Time

In Good Time


Love comes all in good time
his mother had told him.
But now, as he gazed at the beautiful,
ethereal-looking woman
lying in perfect repose on his bed
he knew it wasn't true.
It was not a good time
to discover he loved her.
He had just murdered her.


*Written for National Poetry Month at Not Without Poetry.

Her Perfect Man

 

Shucking her robe

dressed only in heels and her perfect, gleaming skin

she gazed raptly, but calculatingly, at her creation.

Her perfect man.

She had brought him to vital, breathing life

only a brief week before.

Every night out since had been a dream.

Her perfect man.

No matter where she chose to go, what she chose to do

he was the ideal date.

Would, forever, be the flawless companion.

Her perfect man.

This evening would be no different

Another unmatched social event.

Her escort was already impeccably dressed

The only question remaining now-

Voicing her most immediate concern-

"What face shall I give him this evening?"

She had narrowed her choices to six

Perfectly aligned along the top of her bureau

all awaiting her final decision.

Humming softly

she filed her nails and considered

the possibilities before her,

pausing for a moment with a slight frown

to adjust the almost imperceptible

slant to his otherwise faultless bow tie.

Her perfect man.

*This poem was written in response to a prompt by Kirsty Logan at Not Without Poetry for National Poetry Month.

A Picture of Goodbye

Upon seeing you, the camera and I blinked once, collecting your pale, solitary beauty forever.  The bold, teal hue of your flower reflected the image of the resolute woman within, revealing your serene face, as well as the strength and courage in your eyes. Neither of us knew it would be the very last photograph.

*This story is my first foray into Flash Fiction 55, in response to the One Stop Poetry Sunday Picture Prompt Challenge at One Stop Poetry.  The picture prompt is by photographer and poet India Hobson.

Invasion

Invasion

I tried in vain to shut out life

     to keep it from my door.

Yet in it came, with all its strife,

     to complicate things more.

Uninvited causes, uninvited sounds,

uninvited people

crossed my silent bounds.

All attempts to scorn them

   proved to no avail.

Once alone in quiet solitude,

   now cacophony prevailed.

To my awe and consternation,

   though uneasiness was rife,

I came to reconcile myself

   to this thing called life.

Fearful Dawn

Fearful Dawn

Dawn's hesitant light creeps into the sky,

as though fearing the return of last night's vicious thunder.

Accompanying rose-petal clouds,

bravely challenging the anger of their steel-grey brethren.

Once more, the calm clarity of day

declares her equality over rival night,

lying in feral, hungry wait

for his opportunity to hunt once again.