My moon soul whispers of tell-tale dread among the dead… silent screams unseen in the empty gray sunrise. A bone howl. Dusk spirits scatter through the broken storm. Bitter is the lightning. Dreadful their thunder. A passing crow cloud is cawing for earth death by crypt and cellar: I shudder between them within a dream.…
Coronaviral conspiracy some say, snubbing Overt deaths and the tear-dampened masks Reigning on thrones in one-room lives. Other Vicious veils of plague mask cosplay make light In the face of fear, collecting as unkindness Driven from murders to belong to longer laughter. Photo by Jeswin Thomas on Pexels.com Preview from my upcoming 2023 collection The…
Mirror on the wall, whose face lies behind this mask? What doll, what cracked porcelain pride, dares ask after her now-lost youth? What etheric rot rises like exhaust into air from raw, open graves, smacking the blue sky, lacking filters for free breath — does vanity hold any cell…in this hell? She shall count her…
Once I had a heart, but life stole it away. The stress of spending seconds counting sighs down to abyssal eyes — peace, a waste of time. I used to be a dreamer, but shame came of desire, clouding all my visions until the stratus sky suffocated my lies overhead and inside. "Serve, serve, serve!"…
Dancing naked 'neath cascades, my eyes are blinded by the water as I face the safety of a dark cave. I feel nimble hands snake around me from a tall skeleton casting shadows, blocking the sun's diamonds from illuminating the red apple peel of my closed lids. I know it's you by the movement of skilled fingers supporting…
She’s in love with a new preacher: a chaste charismatic angel, young and full of the Lord’s fire. His is a life she longs to claim — a mortal life promised to eternity, a mortal life repulsed by carnality. She knows this, but it doesn’t stop her. She’s in love with a retired preacher:…
Star-borne, dust-kissed, waiting for a bastard prince to take this weak host body and poison Soul with soil, sod, persuade all that seeds grow in Dirt. Growling is what dead animals provoke. Isn't carbon comely as the source of His glory with no story of her Own? Photo by Alise AliNari on Pexels.com From the 2021…
About That Ugly Girl: “She’ll certainly never charm A boy’s eye or be asked to prom. She’ll never hear the words I do And have a partner by her side. She’ll never know the touch Of love from a soul mate’s arms. Poor thing, look at her face… Oh, isn’t she pathetic?” They don’t…
I am the goddess left alive, daughter of Cronus tortured by hardened hands because he could. Rhea saved her son. Couldn't bother with me. I had to wait for Zeus to grow up and save first our swallowed siblings. Those years were an eternity. An eternity of cheeks torn shiny red raw from calloused flesh arrows. An eternity of lying…
Sneaking through the woods at night, I hold my cape just so To hide the wild pets I’ve found, Brave beasts from down below but… Rolf the hellhound runs to chase A possum up its tree. Vera rolls her glowing eyes, Elucidates ennui. Mara rears on her goat legs, Yawping at the hound. Beelzebub…
National Poetry Writing Month
Keeping the world immersed in stanza.
About fantastical places and other stuff
"The silence of the night awakens my soul"
Poems, Writing Prompts, Interviews, Resources for Writers, Books, Poetry Reviews and more...
Saralyn Caine Poetry 