Sometimes I imagine myself in a boat of letters cast afloat in a sea of words. Sometimes the sea is calm, sometimes the waves are choppy and the words are angry, lightning flashes and stormy letters pierce me so that I am impaled on the deck of my own thoughts.
Sometimes I write poems and I dance with words, and we curtsy properly and the words embrace me and the poems that I write are happy. But sometimes I stumble, my thoughts become tangled, my words are a-jumble, rhythm and rhyme fail me, and then my poems are clumsy.
Still, even on my most terrible days, when I close my eyes, I can see my thoughts fly on a kite of letters, my tail- a string of words I haven't used... yet.
Sometimes, when I'm asleep, words creep in between the sheets to whisper, acting like a secret lover tempting me to get up at unholy hours, grab a book and pen or turn on the computer, and in the still of the night cower, quietly tapping out letters as my husband sleeps, feeling guilty that he is there and I am here, cheating with words.
Confession, words have got a hold on me. I think I've fallen in love with poetry.
Here's a poem I wrote in 2018 on the theme Dracula. In this piece, Dracula is a metaphor as the poet feeds on herself, draws from herself, struggles with the loss of her innocent self, and looks into a mirror that shows her past but she cannot find her own reflection.
Some of this is also influenced by Greek mythology and the story of Erysichthon who was cursed to eternal hunger and eventually ate himself.
My lips have tasted no other blood but mine own
As I press my wrists to my lips,
Razored tongue finding my veins, slicing
And drawing in on myself.
Flesh melting, blood sizzling, smoke rising
As my essence passes along a parched throat
That yearns for that which I cannot give myself.
My toes have felt a seeping cold as I sought to satisfy
A thirst that could not be quenched.
My face is drenched and stained with tears
As I alternate between silent brooding,
Heart cooled by wings of loneliness,
And constant pacing at midnight hours,
Going to sleep and counting spiders,
Rising from the coffin of my sheets,
Trying to wash away your loss in impromptu showers.
I have crossed oceans of time and dived repeatedly
through the depths of my memory,
Each time coming up empty,
And it makes me lonely
As in the dark, I obsessively look into mirrors
But can find no reflection of your ghost,
And I remain constantly condemned to play host
To my own parasitic hurts.
The overall piece above, including the piece on theme Dracula, is my contribution to Blockchain Poets' prompt this week: addiction as I explore a poet's addiction to wordplay. Here is the link to the contest. Please participate if you can.
