Tag Archives: Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie

the Boogie Man – MLMM

the Boogie Man

the boogie man’s not lurking in
our bedroom closets, glowing red,
with dust bunnies, candy wrappers,
socks underneath our beds,
he doesn’t only strike at night despite
the tales you’ve read,
he certainly can’t read your mind
but there’s still cause for dread,
because you see it’s what you can’t
see holding you in fear,
it’s the unknown, that’s threatening
all that you hold dear
scary words like what if, I can’t
blaring between your ears
unconsciously you know him well
he’s right there in the mirror

~kat


For MindLoveMiserysMenagerie’s Sunday Writing Prompt: For this prompt I’d like you to focus on creating a portrait of the Boogie Man or some other supernatural being in a very concrete and descriptive way. What does this creature look like? Why does it do what it does? Is it evil or simply misunderstood?


the muse

the muse

she is like a penny, face up, begging
to be lifted from the asphalt, treasure
promised if I dare give her a moment’s
thought, a hint of blush dusts her cheeks,
eyes, dark, translucent blue, cerulean really,
that pierce my soul, first glance, drawing
me deeper… she likes shadowy places,
nooks, crannies, pre-dawn and gloaming,
alcoves and hollows, her scent is musk, with
undertones of moss, earth and ink waiting for the
quill’s long, lingering dip, pale skin like velvet,
cool to the touch, covered in baby fine hair that
glistens in the light, her hair, fiery red, long,
wavy, cascading softly past her shoulders…
she is not the life of the party, but her words,
softly spoken, draw select clusters of seekers, like
me, who have grown to appreciate her wisdom
and honesty…fools vex  her…she has been known
to slay them with a single line, but mostly
she ignores them, pearls and swine, you know,
for those of us who are privileged to call
her friend, to see the world through her
eyes is like peeking through a forbidden
keyhole, Valhalla waiting on the other side

~kat

For MindLoveMiserysMenagerie’s Sunday Writing Prompt – To write about my muse as if she had been given corporeal form and could interact with the outside world. 


‘til death

…’til death

distant light
interrupted
hollow
dark days
cynics in love
the other side
of invisible
roommates
the girl smiles
mr. and mrs.
first day

~kat

For Mind LoveMisery’s Menagerie’s Sunday Writing Prompt. “It’s all in the title.” I liked them all!made for an interesting found poem. Here are the titles:

A Distant Hum
Light Interrupted
Hollow Entreaty
Dark Days: Biography of a Self-Professed Cynic
Suddenly in Love
The Otherside of Nothing
Invisible Roommates
The Girl with the Cast Iron Smile
Mr. and Mrs. Deadtree
The First Day


Heaven Can Wait

Do they even give god
a second thought?
Bluebloods, who needn’t
toil for bits of bread,
who dine on Danube Caviar
plopped on delicate
wafers in their garish
manor houses, sipping
tea while gossiping
about the latest fashion
faux pas or  who’s
doing who. What need
have they for the god
of needy souls, the
god of the outcast,
the sick, the lost,
the forgotten? What
need indeed! From
the outside looking
in their life is heaven on
earth…hell, where
sinners rot, rages just
beyond their gilded gate. 

~kat

A Poem for Mind Love Misery’s Menagerie’s Sunday Writing Prompt based on this Quote: “I talk to God, but the sky is empty.” by Sylvia Plath and the color chart below (the challenge required using at least three of  the color names in the piece).


 


The Phoenix

 

phoenix

i will vanish;
the flesh will die
my hands, my skin
and bone, it feels
like hell, so real…
i say, enough
my scars, my heart,
a touch of blood,
your opus that
melts to nothing,
beware, beware
out of the ash
i rise like air

~kat

A Black Out Poem for MindLoveMisery’sMenagerie Sunday Writing Promptbased on Sylvia Plath’s Poem, “Lady Lazarus” as seen with bold (Black Out) text below.


Lady Lazarus by Sylvia Plath

I have done it again.
One year in every ten
I manage it——

A sort of walking miracle, my skin
Bright as a Nazi lampshade,
My right foot

A paperweight,
My face a featureless, fine
Jew linen.

Peel off the napkin
O my enemy.
Do I terrify?——

The nose, the eye pits, the full set of teeth?
The sour breath
Will vanishin a day.

Soon, soon the flesh
The grave cave ate will be
At home on me

And I a smiling woman.
I am only thirty.
And like the cat I have nine times to die.

This is Number Three.
Whata trash
To annihilate each decade.

What a million filaments.
The peanut-crunching crowd
Shoves in to see

Them unwrap me hand and foot——
The big strip tease.
Gentlemen, ladies

These are my hands
Myknees.
I may be skin and bone,

Nevertheless, I am the same, identical woman.
The first time it happened I was ten.
It was an accident.

The second time I meant
Tolast it out and not come back at all.
I rocked shut

As a seashell.
They had to call and call
And pick the worms off me like sticky pearls.

Dying
Is an art, like everything else.
I do it exceptionally well.

I do it so it feels like hell.
I do it so it feelsreal.
Iguess you could sayI’ve a call.

It’seasy enough to do it in a cell.
It’s easy enough to do it and stay put.
It’sthe theatrical

Comeback in broad day
To the same place, the same face, the same brute
Amused shout:

‘A miracle!’
That knocks me out.
There is a charge

For the eyeing of my scars, there is a charge
For the hearing of my heart——
It really goes.

And there is a charge, a very large charge
For a word or a touch
Or a bit of blood

Or a piece of my hair or my clothes.
So, so, Herr Doktor.
So, Herr Enemy.

I am your opus,
I am your valuable,
The pure gold baby

That melts to a shriek.
I turn and burn.
Do not think I underestimate your great concern.

Ash, ash—
You poke andstir.
Flesh, bone, there is nothing there——

A cake of soap,
A wedding ring,
A gold filling.

Herr God, Herr Lucifer
Beware
Beware.

Out of the ash
I risewith my red hair
And I eat men like air.

 


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