The moon is bitten / like the apple
under the bleats of the corvid / the enceinte tree
my pentrailium / shuts the black heart of lilies
do not find me, I want to be alone before I leave.
the moon / satsuma hills and mouthfuls of the noose
lay bare and wrest like a baby’s fingers / digits pass
between my hands, a discoid / a discomfort
I know too well. I see your body of glass,
And I’m stranded / like the white worms
in the soil, all tossing in the dirt
with restless leg syndrome; I only
retain a monolith of grief; desert
me now. I tell the moon / to turn away;
the bud of her breast / I’m alone,
I drank the jicama roots of grief
as I turn to leave your stone.
© 2020 lucysworks.com All Rights Reserved.
Come, join us. I am guest-tending the bar over at dVerse for poetics today. The theme is dark, dark, dark in the form of a ballad.
Ooh Lucy, how exciting! You will be the perfect host for this challenge and this is the perfect dark ballad to set the scene!
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Aww, thank you so much. ❤ ❤
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👻
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This is obsidian dark… sharp and shiny, and also so filled with sorrow with the baby’s fingers that I imagine being the phantom pains from a lost child.
So many dark images … love it.
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Thank you, Björn. I’m so glad you enjoyed this piece. What I had in mind is definitely about losing a loved one, and I really love your analysis of this poem. Thank you so much!
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Such deep grief (retain a monolith of grief) by the images of body in glass and stone. A death of a loved one can be very upsetting and no amount of solitude can shutter them. I love black heart of lilies and symbolism of the moon.
Thanks for hosting Lucy.
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Oh, yes, you are so right. The death of a loved one is tragic and even with the desire of solitude and being alone, the pain is still there like ocean waves. I’m happy you enjoyed this piece and I’m especially honored to be hosting poetics today. Thank you! ❤
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A stunning simile in the opening lines, Lucy, and such creative use of enjambment throughout your ballad! I love the echo of Greta Garbo in ‘I want to be alone before I leave’ and the eerie imagery in the lines:
‘…mouthfuls of the noose
lay bare and wrest like a baby’s fingers’
and
‘…I’m stranded / like the white worms
in the soil, all tossing in the dirt
with restless leg syndrome’.
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Thank you so much, Kim. ❤ ❤ I also like to change my syntax up, makes it interesting in reading the lines and how different it can be in its flow.
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“a monolith of grief” jumps out here. To turn the moon away at this time. Oh the sorrow 😦
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Thank you so much. ❤ I think it really adds to the theme of isolation and solitude. Turning away the moon (nature and its darkness, this darkness being natural to life is death) and turning away comfort, it’s truly sad.
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You’re very welcome.
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You are such a tough act to follow Lucy! This was amazing. I particularly loved this stanza:
“And I’m stranded / like the white worms
in the soil, all tossing in the dirt
with restless leg syndrome; I only
retain a monolith of grief; desert”
I feel every piece of angst 💕☺️
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I feel so honored, Christine. Thank you so very much and I’m happy you enjoyed this piece.
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That first line is a stunning opener, Lucy. So many images.
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Thank you!
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This is achingly painful to read – yet at the same time so beautiful and lyrically innovative.
I am impressed by this:
do not find me, I want to be alone before I leave.
the moon / satsuma hills and mouthfuls of the noose
lay bare and wrest like a baby’s fingers / digits pass
between my hands, a discoid / a discomfort
I know too well.
And fear what this is hinting. Thoughts of loss, self-destruction…
Experiences felt by many. You (or the anonymous person this is inspired by) are not alone.
I feel your words, Lucy. Take care.
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Thank you so much for your thoughts and analysis. I intended this poem to be more universal than personal with the aspects of grief and losing a loved one. Self-destruction is another major theme in this piece as well and shutting out others from a state of grief. I thank you again for the kindness. ❤ Take care as well.
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This is incredibly arresting! I so love the way this ballad flows like indigo amidst the silver at night. Thank you for the glorious prompt 🙂
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Thank you for your lovely words. 🙂
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This is dark and deep, Lucy! Stunning writing. ❤️
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Thank you, Punam!
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You are welcome.
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Palpably dark, Lucy. The opening line totally hooked me, and am I GLAD it did. My hat is off.
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Thank you so, so much Ron. That makes me real happy to hear that.
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I really like this a nod to the current predicament, to life and love … you blended them all here!
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Thank you!
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The opening line, stellar, and just the beginning of your brilliant approach to the dark side. Superbly rendered, Lucy!
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Thank you so much, Eugenia.
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I can sense the loss to me it feels like the loss we have suffered from covid. I think many of us have restless leg syndrome. We long to wander free once again from pain, death and isolation.
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Definitely! Isolation and lockdown have been hard on us all and who hasn’t gone crazy yet? Thank you for your feedback, as well. Much appreciated.
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A wonderful ballad Lucy! I love all the unique phrases you come up with in your writing.
midnight.
The moon is bitten / like the apple
under the bleats of the corvid / the enceinte tree
my pentrailium / shuts the black heart of lilies
do not find me, I want to be alone before I leave.
the moon / satsuma hills and mouthfuls of the noose
lay bare and wrest like a baby’s fingers / digits pass
between my hands, a discoid / a discomfort
I know too well. I see your body of glass,
And I’m stranded / like the white worms
in the soil, all tossing in the dirt
with restless leg syndrome; … and a monolith of grief!!
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Thank you, Dwight.
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Satsuma hills and mouthfuls of the noose”. Your creative word power is ever amazing!
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Thank you!
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Fabulous read. Profound.
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Thank you.
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Welcome 🙂
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The feeling is intense and dark (of course) and I too liked the bitten apple image and the calling of the crow.
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Thank you so much!
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🙂
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Dark and delicious Lucy. I enjoyed it it had just a tinge of sadness but it was in engaging read well written.
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Thank you, Rob.
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So dark and beautiful. In a weird way I resonate with it.
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Thanks. 🙂
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The moon is bitten / like the apple
under the bleats of the corvid / the enceinte tree
my pentrailium /
And I’m stranded / like the white worms
in the soil, all tossing in the dirt
with restless leg syndrome; I only
retain a monolith of grief;
Oh Lucy, this was me, and still, if I let it inhabit me.
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❤ ❤
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I was hooked at the first line. Brilliant.
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Thank you.
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Lucy, Overwhelmed by the imagery of grief, of the lonely fortress it creates, the grandeur of utter darkness. “I see your body of glass” – Wow. You say it all and so well, I had to just take a deep breath. Brilliant texturing of location, emotion, sensation. And thanks for teaching me more than a word to two 🙂
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Thank you so, so much Dora. ❤
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My pleasure entirely 😊
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Deliciously dark (of course). I like the comparison of moon to bitten apple. I imagine a mourning woman in nineteenth-century mourning garb–I think the monoliths made me think of those tombs and huge gravestones from that era.
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Thank you! 🙂
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Lucy, this is exquisite. The imagery is breathtaking.
“I drank the jicama roots of grief
as I turn to leave your stone.”
Sending you plenty of love.
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Thank you so much, G, always. Much love back to you. ❤ ❤ ❤
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My pleasure Lucy. Lots of love to you too ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️
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This is so full of pain Lucy. Absolutely stunning.
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Thank you, Linda.
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kaykuala
And I’m stranded / like the white worms
in the soil, all tossing in the dirt
A classic show of throes of death. Many may find the prospects frighteningly disturbing certainly on the darker side Great wordcraft Lucy!
Hank
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Aww, thanks Hank. 🙂
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As usual love this🖤
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Thanks. 😊
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My breath caught at the last line, even though I knew it was coming. An amazing word painting.
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Thank you. 🙂
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I love your writing.
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Thank you so much. I’m happy to hear that. 🙂
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Your use of slashes always fascinates me! It splits the lines and also brings them closer together; I love it! The imagery in this piece is stunning. “The moon is bitten / like the apple”. I have seen moons that look like that!
“I tell the moon / to turn away;
the bud of her breast / I’m alone,
I drank the jicama roots of grief”.
There is beauty in angst and you capture that feeling perfectly.
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Thank you so very much, Jaya. ❤ ❤
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