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

Chaiku MW


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, in honor of OLN at dVerse, our host Grace at Every Day Amazin and our previous host Laura at Poetry Pix.

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, woke up and wrote down. I usually read Oracle and Angel cards, not runes, yet I dreamed about runes.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 ❣️


Written from my perspective as a stage 4 metastatic cancer and DV survivor, who has faced many battles with the grim reaper in my life. 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.

Cheerss 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 🙏
This is what depression feels like. It’s important to raise awareness. Knowledge is understanding.

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


©️Mother Wintermoon. I find it cathartic and balancing to explore my shadow side. I do have a penchant for classic horror flicks and Poe-ish poetry. Where is my queen Elvira, Mistress of the Dark, when I need her? 😉😊

Click Page 2 below for my second poem ❣️

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


© 2017 MW All Rights Reserved

A tribute to all the women who have suffered in the name of religion.

Cheers to OLN at dVerse Poet’s Pub and Mish, who used the expression “If walls could talk” as our inspiration. 

North Country Love and Legend

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specter of death along a deserted road
the demise of autumn’s reap and sow

ghostly branches of barren trees
eerie hushed babble of glacial streams

icy claws clinging to niveous graves
townspeople gathered in a shadowed nave

the shivery blush of a winter kiss
frostbitten petals of bitter cold bliss

long hair adorned with icicles
crystalline footprints in the snow

waning light of a gibbous moon
north wind howling a song of doom

frozen in time she awaited his return
upon the hearth they placed her urn

© Mother Wintermoon 2016


Cheers to dVerse Poet’s Pub and bard, Bjorn. We are prompted to be inspired by the song-writing imagery of Bob Dylan. I chose the “Girl From The North Country” as my inspiration. Didn’t you wonder what happened to her? Now you know! Dylan lyrics below:

If you’re traveling the north country fair
Where the winds hit heavy on the borderline
Remember me to one who lives there
For she once was a true love of mine.

If you go when the snowflakes storm
When the rivers freeze and summer ends
Please see if she has a coat so warm
To keep her from the howlin’ winds.

Please see if her hair hangs long
If it rolls and flows all down her breast
Please see for me if her hair’s hanging long
For that’s the way I remember her best.

I’m a-wonderin’ if she remembers me at all
Many times I’ve often prayed
In the darkness of my night
In the brightness of my day.

So if you’re travelin’ the north country fair
Where the winds hit heavy on the borderline
Remember me to one who lives there
She once was the true love of mine