Mad Girls Musing

Charlotte: With somber mien
                 they exhort us to mistrust our eyes.
                 I will not subject myself to their "truth".
                 My eyes and spirit remain free.

Sylvia:     Free? For how long?
                They’ll force feed us "facts"
                until we vomit up blood.
                They’ll gouge our eyes with diversions
                until our souls are hulled.

Me:         There is no way out but through.
                Alone, it is impossible.
                I breathe in the strength
                of a world that rebels by living.
                I hope it is enough.

Photo by Amy Hirschi on Unsplash

Song Choice: I Won't Back Down covered by Dawn Landes

Liner Notes for This Groove: This piece was originally inspired by the prompt given over at Imaginary Gardens With Real Toads: Twitter Me a Gothic Poem, where Magaly asked us to create a poem from tweets from two of the writers she has listed, and our own tweet back at them. I chose Charlotte Bronte and Sylvia Plath. I've also linked it to Poets and Storytellers United's Friday Writings prompt, Different Points of View

Giving War a Chance

I’m a case
of reverse conscription,
told there was nothing

to fight. My head
aches from all the times
I’ve had to turn it

fast enough to convince myself
that the flesh and sinew at my feet
weren’t torn from me just now.

False peace diminished 
heart and spirit,
but honest war mended 
bits I thought were gone forever.

Liner Notes for this Groove: This poem is linked to Poets and Storytellers United's Friday Writings Prompt, War and Peace.

Invitation to Mina from the Count

Renouncing heaven was easy
once I heard they renounced you.

A heaven that mandates
who and how I should love,
a heaven that deems you unworthy
has no hold on me.

The only hell I fear
is eternity with no hope
of seeing you again.

So I amassed these petty atrocities,
strung them together, like the pearls
that nestle around your irresistible throat.

Each bloody jewel
gave me another moment, another chance
to find you again, truest jewel of my heart.

Did you expect me to apologize for that?
No, dear Mina, I’d fill ballrooms with such pearls
if it meant you could remember
a time you loved me as much.

That doesn’t matter now—your remembering—
all that matters is I’ve found you.
We will make new memories.

I’ll forgive and forget everything,
including the little fool fluttering around you
(as if he could possibly know you
the way I once did).

You must have been lonely too. I understand.
I’ll always forgive you,
only you,
my Mina.

There is nothing you could demand from me,
no penance or perversion too vile,
that I would not cheerfully perform

if you would just take my hand again,
accept the life I remade
for us,
and smile for me, 
only me, 

Scene from 1992's Bram Stoker's Dracula

Song Choice: What else, but Love Song for a Vampire by Annie Lennox

Liner Notes for this Groove: This poem was created for the Friday Writing's prompt given at Poets and Storytellers United, Toxic Love. I've been lucky enough never to deal with anything truly toxic in my love life, so I decided to take some inspiration from a story, specifically the 1992 film, Bram Stoker's Dracula. Drinking the blood of a bunch of people for hundreds of years and being obsessive/ possessive definitely puts him in the problematic boyfriend camp. 😂

Knowing Things

Even the dust seemed golden,
caught in the rays from the windows
leading to the adult section of the library.

Here was my Eden
with overflowing groves
of knowledge ready to harvest.

Even then I doubted
that knowing caused a fall.
I had proof of my rising
with every new thing I learned.

I walked slowly,
one eye on the librarian,
the other in the 130’s.

A quick tug on the spine
brought the book to my hand.
I scuttled away

to a worn chair in the back
to see what I could learn
by the time the gilded dust motes
drifted along a tighter angle.

I still lacked the nerve
to claim it and take it home.
But even after I made the choice

to leave it behind on the shelving cart,
next to The Color Purple and Mists of Avalon,

I walked home
with my head full magic,
waiting for the next equinox.

Liner Notes for this Groove: This poem was created for the Friday Writings prompt given at Poets and Storytellers United.