A poetic journey through my mind

Posts tagged “myths

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Brother to brother,

Memory to thought,

Tasting the stories

that old one-eye sought,

Storing them safely

in the heart of a cloud,

Mythos eternal,

Never spoken aloud.IMG_2279


Mirrorrim

 

Mirror mirror on the wall, hanging there so silently, can you see me here at all, or do you stand in awe of me?

See my skin as white as snow, see my smile as sharp as thorn, behind my lips so rosy red, a beauty grown, but never born.

My people love me, as they might, they laud my beauty and my grace, adore my hair as black as night, and see in me my mother’s face.

Mothers ash is buried deep, beneath the sacred Rowan tree, but should I cry beneath its shade, I hear her voice still speak to me.

Blood red tears soak through the ground, nourishing the thirsty earth, and whispering the leaves take voice, echoes of her cruel mirth.

Stepmother, fear me as you should, for though you may have fathers ring, tis I who owns his beating heart…in me, the conscience of the king.

Huntsman with your sharpened knife, you track me for the queen so good, a single kiss and you are mine, amazed amidst the darkened wood.

The beating heart, unlike my own, ensconced within a box of gold, and carried to stepmother dear, a tragic tale will soon be told.

By animals in forest deep, my body torn too much to save, the heart the only evidence, to lay beside my mother’s grave.

From kitchen knave to scullery maid, soon all in mourning deep will be, whilst I move through them whisper soft, feeding on the tragedy.

And then, replete, I’ll slip away, down to the caverns dark and deep, far from the biting of the sun, where spirits howl and duergar creep.

There among the little men, I’ll sleep until I thirst again, then waken, smiling in my bliss, to share again my blood red kiss.


Stuff and Nonsense

Perspective

milk in a cup

happy cats

unhappy cows 

Captain Jane

in my dream

a sea of rubber ducks

and a soap iceberg 

Playmancy?

a way to tell the future

tossing bones

are dogs soothsayers?

Triple Threat 

fleas in summer

on one tail, an itch unending

on three tails, hell on earth

Kamikaze 

trees in the wind

throwing sticks

for me to chase

Kitsune-na-shiteki


Coyote Tanka

Tanka are a form of Japanese poetry, like the better known Haiku.  I’ve noticed that there are a few definitions for the syllable count in a tanka…the form I’ve chosen is 7, 5, 7, 5, 7, 7.  Hope you like the juxtaposition of a purely Western mythological figure and an Eastern art form!

 

coyote in the desert
ske’lep, or murphy,
whiskey jack, barking dog,
what shall I call you?

may I name you Trickster
and haunt the mountains with you?

 

I see your whiskered face, lost,
coyote in the city,
glass bottle of forgetting,
in crumpled paper bag

riding empty subway car
dreaming of desert sky home

 

coyote in the mountains
glow of firelight
you stare into the campfire
voice of gravel and stone

“Hey there, got a cigarette?”
your shadow has ears and braids

 

coyote takes a train ride
leathered paw grips tight
eyes under hat watch miles pass
through open steel door

places flash before your eyes
which one will you choose today?

 

coyote and the maiden
lovely by the fire
dancing to confuse her mind
bring her to your tent

night black hair like wings falling
raven laughs and flies away