Butterflied
Wrapped in my shroud, I am blind to Your brilliance. Larval squirmings, procedural dues, envelop mind and consume corpse so that all I feel is the pain of becoming; the razor-edge ritual, this...
View ArticleFrosted Blades
Frosted blades scratch seamless sky, angry to find no scars. Serrated edge draws no blood, nor sawing motion, vein; Wind is no ally when renewed rigour results in naught. Pain pitched at a hushed...
View ArticleUnbend
Stiff with cold, he’s grown deaf - he no longer hears the cries of others; attuned to his inner demons, he turns his back on the masses, the empty bellies and outstretched hands. Pain blocks all sound....
View ArticleGrace Within
Frozen, frost is frothy coat, raiment on a hopeful note; dressing pain in beauty skin, allure without, and grace within. Filed under: A Wounded Heart, Beauty, Christianity, Courage, Dealing with...
View ArticleSurface
Whenever her roots begin to show, she heads to the salon for a second skin. ‘How long will this veneer hold?’ she asks her sparkling reflection, taking care not to scratch the surface. Filed under: A...
View ArticleSkin
This crackle finish, this patina of pain makes her a marked woman. Grafts, layers of insulation against the raw oozing egress of bodily fluids let loose from crushed conduits, won’t stitch to spasms or...
View ArticleMy First Poetic Birthday!
Inscription to Evil Your eyes perceived the offering - ripe suckling pig offered on ego’s altar. Fangs tore flesh, and cud was savoured. Voiceless, innocence burned; Betrayer invoked betrayal, tearing...
View ArticleBorn of Blood
Born of blood, in labour’s pain, life contracts, and breathes again; true love’s sacrificial start is pregnant with a bleeding heart. * True love bleeds – first, to give life, then, to sustain it. To...
View ArticleTrue Grit
Grief, that grittiest of sandpapers, rubs her frayed edges raw. Scars assemble, a vortex of baffling borders to rake in pain the more efficiently. And still, she blooms – true grit may render her...
View ArticleDiamonds
As carbon lies in hidden tombs, the weight of the world on its shoulder, its cells align, and, groaning deep, its troubles make it smolder; but as the pressures bearing down create unbearable...
View ArticleThe Balloon
The day he burst her balloon her soul ripped in two and her very veins bled blue; jagged edges, raw to the touch, were misplaced (lone sock swallowed by the dryer in the heat of battle). Imagine her...
View ArticleHer Tears
Her tears have drenched her soul, burying the hatchet in rivulets running red, bloody gouges brimming with magna-cum-laude . (degree earned in the school of hard knocks, awarded posthumously to the...
View ArticleComplimentary Colours
If she stepped back, rocked on her heels and widened the angle, she would see that this birthmark, this season of purple bruising, is simply a piece of the mosaic that is painting her life story in...
View ArticlePandora’s Box
She was sure Yesterday was dead and gone. She had, after all, buried it deep in a wooden crate under the old apple tree (the one that split down the trunk during the storm of ’79). So when it raised...
View ArticleWhat She Saw
A daylily, ruffled and still with folds of fresh linen (freshly made bed) soaking up sunshine on laundry-day line. She paused there, caught helplessly on its anthers, struck by the glory that...
View ArticleVisionary
Delicate, yes. Weak, no - veins that bleed for the world to see hold volumes, streams, encompass galaxies and implode with atoms, redefine strength by tracing survival by heart in colours too true to...
View ArticleIn the Breaking Place
She raises weary hands high, knowing that if she aims for heaven, she just might touch God. . Tendons stretch beyond breaking point, in the places where pain collides with grace; she feels buds ....
View ArticleChromaticity
She fought it hard, this slow death. Every photosynthetic cell that relinquished its green became the Enemy – each sag, each ache, each decaying limb strangled her dreams with dry rot, made hope a...
View ArticleAs the Wheel Turns
And the colour wheel cranks out its liturgy – opposites make the best bedfellows, draw out the richest blooming. . So too this heart, when double crushed, rises atmospheric to negate the blow. So...
View ArticleThe Sower
These blades, Guillotine to slice flesh From bone, shred all semblance of comfort. This rack, Gears ground like teeth on edge, Stretch faith beyond breaking. Suffering gouges,...
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