to grief.

bare-bones / wed to abandoning in-utero
fingers; the apple bursts
like an appendix / and the sea
breast to breast / is a mistress
to the Kalahari sun
/ mouthing /
to my moon
“death goes to the worms” / alien touch / my love has gone /
threnody and dream,

as if the Earth is glass /
stranded / to the ghosts /
of ourselves / this is the body
of sand / my love
is soon gone to / plasma
/ in the lights / 

threnody and dying
the sea is an insomniac
maniac / to the glassy
violets / and stargazer flowers
spawning on an inch of Autumn 

death; stroke the worms’ gut
death feeds them well when we’re
eventually gone /

I tire to grief / alien touch / I withdraw from / the moon’s fingertips /
for my love has gone.

© 2020 lucysworks.com All Rights Reserved.


Written for the August Prompt #2 for Free Verse Revolution.

Reposted for the dVerse open link night.




Categories: Poetry

Tags: , , , , , , , , ,

60 replies

  1. Mystically fantastic, and mythically dramatic, with an exquisitely powerful finale….superb…

    “I tire to grief / alien touch / I withdraw from / the moon’s fingertips /
    for my love has gone”

    Liked by 4 people

  2. This is fabulous. Love the weaving of words.

    Liked by 3 people

  3. Oh Lucy! Such beauty in grief.

    Liked by 3 people

  4. I loved it in the first read as comment to the Prompt..
    Strong lines and expressions and metaphors Luci 🙂

    Liked by 2 people

  5. Love how you’ve weaved it into such a nice poem. Keep writing! Sending you, my best ❤

    Liked by 2 people

  6. the melancholy and the powerful imagery is breathtaking!

    Liked by 1 person

  7. I fell in love, once. I cannot do it, again. Why? It’s because I would rather die, without her. On my blog, 1,000+ poems are in dedication to her, and only her. Grief is a factor for my own death, were I to eclipse her from my heart.

    I understand grief. I am so cruel as to say I’d be happy losing anyone else, over her. I fell in love, not to live, though to remind myself I am sunken, if she is, too. I would rather die, if I cannot swim to her, in whatever ocean we both dwell in. I would rather sink, if she sinks, rather than call myself the failure by living in that disgrace.

    She is everything. My all. My wholeness. My completion.

    Liked by 2 people

  8. Threnody and dying
the sea is an insomniac
maniac / to the glassy
violets / and stargazer flowers

    Really loved this stanza. Wonderful flow and imagery!
spawning on an inch of Autumn 

    Liked by 2 people

  9. I have heard it said, “grief is just love…with nowhere to go.”
    I really enjoyed your treatment of the subject..

    Liked by 2 people

  10. I do love the way you weave the sea into the threnody.
    the sea is an insomniac maniac
    I can really see a wild painting of a moonlit sea and sailors lost to the waves

    Liked by 2 people

  11. The poem is inspired, but I’m blown-away by the formatting. Clever.

    Liked by 1 person

  12. The grief is palpable; the sorrow too deep. I marvel on your range of emotions to capture this. The ending lines for me are perfect.

    Liked by 2 people

  13. This is heartwrenchingly beautiful, Lucy!

    Liked by 2 people

  14. Amazing layout and use of punctuation, Lucy, and I too love the way you wove the sea into the threnody. I was blown away by the surprising simile: ‘the apple bursts like an appendix’ and the lines:
    ‘as if the Earth is glass /
    stranded / to the ghosts /
    of ourselves / this is the body
    of sand’
    and
    ‘the sea is an insomniac
    maniac’.

    Liked by 2 people

  15. How stunning:

    “threnody and dying
    the sea is an insomniac
    maniac / to the glassy
    violets”

    Liked by 1 person

  16. a visceral thread is the connection for some beautiful broken images – not least
    “to the glassy
    violets / and stargazer flowers
    spawning on an inch of Autumn “

    Liked by 1 person

  17. You’ve got some great images here, and I like that you bring it back to the worms and the moon again at the end.

    Liked by 1 person

  18. the sea is an insomniac
    maniac
    You poem shares the sadness in loss and the weariness of grief! Am I right that the apple bursting is the heart?

    Liked by 1 person

  19. This is so powerful with the contrasting images of the sea, of birth and death: and that final line stabbed me right in the heart.

    Liked by 1 person

  20. Grief is a deity here, and the poem is a prayer — humbled and in awe of grief’s immense breadth and depth in the heart. It is breathless and near-silent and jagged (those line breaks leaping and mashing in their own lines!) and fulsome — a wildness which is exhausting to the broken heart. A ghosting. A dirge. It might be holy too, but not now, not yet. Amen.

    Liked by 1 person

  21. Palpable and beautifully penned.

    Liked by 1 person

  22. This makes me think of an ancient Greek play–I can imagine the words spoken on a bare stage.

    Liked by 1 person

  23. Poignant, powerful and exquisite in the capturing of grief.

    I tire to grief / alien touch / I withdraw from / the moon’s fingertips /
    for my love has gone.

    Every word speaks from the depths of the grieving soul.

    Liked by 1 person

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