The ultimate freedom is flight above cover of night. I glide to provide a blanket of darker shade to the itsy-bitsy crawlers trying to hide from the stomp of a crusader's sabaton. I am unclean vermin, the faith-filled bishops rage, while I barely flap elongated fingers like needles amidst skin wings woven by nature allowing…
The B in LGBT. A tragic poem. Happy Pride! 😛 ~+~+~+~+~+~ Jasmine.The scent fills my lungs as I remember her blouse so close. Our piano arms rested side by side on the bus seat belts nonexistent to restrain her Flat chest that balanced a Sharp arrow to shatter my White milk glass. Her dazzling smile…
Lay your eggs, Nature says. Lay your eggs, Biology says. Lay your eggs, Fate says. You’re the youngest you'll ever be again And that's not long at all. Not anymore. Caterpillars can't see the horizon But you're almost at the finish line. With only days to fly, Your flaps are numbered. Wings irrelevant after a…
As a little girl, I said I didn't want to be a princess. I didn't want to be Queen Guinevere strolling in silken dress, breathing the stale recycled air of other nobles, at home in a castle. I want to be nameless Lady of the Lake adorned in scallop shells and rock shards and fish…
For the last day of NaPoWriMo, I wanted to return to my initial intention for the month: a poem for/about the goddess Idunn. The included lines of Old Norse are from the poem Hrafnagaldr Óðins (stanza 6) and transcribed from the song Iduna by Faun—which is also the melody of the "song" attested in my poem.…
Poem prompt: "Today’s daily resource is the online galleries of the Whitney Museum, where you’ll find artwork as varied as this fun portrait of Billie Jean King, a Frank Stella sculpture that looks like what would happen if a space station fell in love with a bridge, and this contemporary take on the classic embroidered sampler. And now for today’s prompt…
As an introvert, I haven't been to many "ceremonies" (or events or parties) in my life, and I wasn't about to write on the topic of weddings and graduations. I don't remember any of the music at my father's funeral. I suppose that in and of itself could be a topic worth exploring--at some point.…
Today I found beauty in depression, in the pre-Raphaelite art of tragic characters. It is not my intention to romanticize self-harm, but rather see the beauty that lies even in the darkest of outlooks. I find, for me, that gives my depression value, and me a boost of confidence in the expression. 988 Suicide and…
Oh boy. This took hours and several heavy sighs and a few tears. Sonnets are so strict. I tried my best not to sound forced. I'm not sure how well I succeeded, but I wanted to be true to form. I have a project on the back burner reimagining the tasks of Hercules as crimes…
I saw the neo-pagan band FAUN in concert on my birthday last year. It was a life-changing experience being the the same room with the band, so close to the music I love. I haven't been to many concerts in my life for multiple reasons: cost, location, volume, crowds. But I bought earplugs. I wasn't…
National Poetry Writing Month
Keeping the world immersed in stanza.
About fantastical places and other stuff
"The silence of the night awakens my soul"
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Saralyn Caine Poetry 