his letter she kept
reduced to a wrinkled scrap
“i love you” intact
©️ 2020 Mother Wintermoon / Chaiku
Chaiku: The Letter
Suburbia
Home sweet home
Neat houses all in a row
Faux gaslights imparting
A soft, subtle glow
Her house looks no different
With its white shaded porch
Yet evil lies in wait
Behind the closed door
In the shadow of privilege
She cowers in fear
Her cries at odds
with the serene night air
The red peonies she planted
Are the color of her blood
The dead patch on the emerald lawn
Mirrors his “love”
If you look closely
You’ll see something askew
Maybe a jagged edge
Within the lines of smooth
©️ 2020 MW / DV survivor
Windowpane
upon my window pane
a trail of muffled raindrops
echoing my tears
Breath, fog and raindrops
Seeping into my soul
My eyes turned upwards
Toward the promise of the clouds
While my feet
Are drenched in mud puddles
Sending shivers deep
Into my bones
The view from my room
Is spattered with raindrops
In the heartbeat of the rain
I can see dams breaking
Sweat dripping down
Dampened bedsheets
Arms outstretched
People under somber umbrellas
Separated by their fears
©️ 2020 MW 🙏
Using the word Room as my inspiration for OLN at dVerse, our host Grace at Every Day Amazin and our previous host Laura at Poetry Pix.
Chaiku: Bended Knee
upon bended knee
i thanked a tree in the woods
for tutoring me
©️ 2020 MW 🙏 Unleashing some of my chaiku languishing in draft mode. Chaiku need not shelter in place.
Chaiku: Clay Feet
silently the night creeps in,
tiptoeing past smashed pottery,
why do all my idols have clay feet?
©️ 2020 MW 🙏 chaiku
Runes/Ruins
Cast your stones upon the ruins
Cast your runes upon the stones
Take now what the future holds
Think only of what is in your bones
©️ 2020 All Rights Reserved
This little poem is literally something I dreamed up. I usually read Oracle or Angel cards, not runes, yet I dreamed about runes and remembered the words to this poem when I woke up. “Take now what the future holds?” Food for thought!
Today…
Today I vividly recall
The embrace of the grim reaper
Today I remember the sharp nick
Of his kiss upon my soul
His passion distracts me
From the Truth
Life is too fleeting and fragile
To remain face down
Spewing out mouthfuls of dirt
©️2019 MW ❣️
Recalling my many encounters with the grim reaper. Cheers to dVerse and Whimsygizmo. We are writing quadrilles using the word “nick” — meaning steal, timeliness (nick of time) or small cut.
Frozen Tundra
The past is a frozen tundra
Immovable and unchangeable
There is only now
This present moment
To live in the knowledge
I have gained
I allow the past
To drift away
On the ocean of tears
I have cried over marks
I have missed
And cherished dreams
I have failed to
To manifest
Today I make peace
With the Present
And arise from the frigid waters
Frozen fingers weaving
A new beginning
From all the frayed ends.
©️ MW 2018 🙏 All Rights Reserved
Bridges
The bridges you’ve burned smolder behind me
Staining the innocence of a bright new day
Through the thick, dark smoke of brokenness
I see the outline of new bridges [to jump from, cross over or burn to ashes]
Shimmering and swaying in the distance,
Whispering promises that make a mockery of my fears
Looking over my shoulder one last time
I see the bridge where you faltered
Refusing to cross over onto solid ground with me
Within the blink of an eye it vanishes
A mere specter in the realm of what could have been
Before you succumbed to your predilection
For gasoline and matches
© 2018 MW 🙏
Cheers to OLN at dVerse and our gracious host, Grace.
Kundalini
The Serpent Goddess winds up your spine
Wrapping around your wounded heart
Evoking cool ocean breezes
Followed by the heat of the desert sun
A wild taste of freedom shoots upward
Engaging every inch of your existence
In a sensual dance
Droplets of blood rain fall steadily
Washing away all your pain
Colors flash through your cerebral cortex
Fiery red flashes of anger
Indigo black ripples of peace
Sea green waves of bitterness
Amber orange rays of hope
You become an Old World lizard
A hungry panther
An Indian Star tortoise bridging heaven and earth
An angel with steely wings
Swoops in
Challenging your beliefs
Pitting itself against your humaneness
Pressing sharp talons into your flesh
Shape-shifting
You become billows of smoke
Purging and cleansing
Your tortured soul
You are a crystal clear river now
Flowing fiercely and freely
Calmly and powerfully
Kundalini’s work is done
© 2017 MW 🙏 All Rights Reserved
Kundalini (the Hindu Serpent Goddess) rests like a coiled serpent at the base of the spine. When her dormant energy is released, it flows upward through the seven chakras, leading to deeply altered states of consciousness and an intensely cathartic process known as a Kundalini Awakening.
In Kabbalah, the serpent exists to make us aware of our ego-self, blocking our connection to Source.
Cheers to Open Link Night at dVerse and our gracious host, Grace.
Shade
I dwell in shade
Engulfed by grays
No color palette to
Enliven my days
Shadows take hold
Where my life enfolds
I have no rainbows
To enliven my soul
All my words drift
Into soundless mist
I look into the mirror
And I don’t exist
I have no face
I’ve been erased
All that I am is painful space
© 2017 Mother Wintermoon 🙏
For D’verse and host Lillian, using “shades” as our inspiration.
Underground
A black cat mewls piteously
upon my gravestone
the stench of decay
fills my nostrils
unearthly roots encircle my legs
smoke
sulfur
excrement
the alchemy of hell
turns my soul to dust
wizening
eroding
decomposing
soil blackens my lips
as i begin this descent
into the underworld
where fire consumes my shame
©️ 2017 Mother Wintermoon ❣️
Cheers to OLN at dVerse and our host, BodhiRose (Gayle). Inspired by the Underground theme hosted by PaulScribbles.
Underground II
Risen and fallen
a lone candle burns
upon my tombstone
a feral cat scratches at my grave
roses wither on the vine
as the goddess of the underworld
invokes my name
pain is my destiny
into the bowels of oblivion
i accept my fate
© 2017 MW ❣️All Rights Reserved
Defiance
Into this hallowed chamber,
harshness enters,
bruising my knees,
weighing down my outstretched arms,
despair descends,
as icicles in frozen air,
angels witness,
etched into panels of stained glass,
taunting voices whisper,
mocking my faith,
drowning out the chorus of prayers.
The face of your image looms,
burned into my naked flesh,
i arise! in defiance of,
this sham salvation,
the angels shiver,
trembling against fragile glass,
shattering the panes,
into bright pieces
of sharpened resolve.
© 2016 MW All Rights Reserved
Cheers to dVerse and Bjorn. Our prompt is to work the shadows of light and dark.
Forsaken Supplication
Forsaken supplication,
slivers of fractured sunlight,
filtered through stained glass,
warming her fragile flesh…
Swaying with bended knees,
in this primordial House of God,
walls whispering tales of ancient lust…
Encased in prayer she awaits,
invocations in The Holy Tongue,
escaping unbidden from her lips…
Her soul cries for release and vindication,
corporeal scars uncovered,
her robes turned to ashes and dust…
The Bride enters,
a likeness cloaked in amber shadows,
formed from shards of brokenness…
Secrets of suffering revealed,
in rivulets of tears,
carving patterns,
into time worn stone
Scriptural Hebrew is called Lashon HaKodesh — The Holy Tongue. The Bride (Kallah) is a name for the Divine Feminine in a Jewish hymn.
© 2017 MW All Rights Reserved ❣️
Cheers to OLN at dVerse Poet’s Pub and Mish, who used the expression “If walls could talk” as our inspiration.
