midnight.

Poetry, , , , , , , , , 69 Comments

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.

69 thoughts on “midnight.”

    1. 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!

      Like

      Reply

  3. 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.

    Liked by 2 people

    Reply

    1. 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! ❤

      Like

      Reply

  4. 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’.

    Liked by 1 person

    Reply

    1. 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.

      Liked by 1 person

      Reply

  8. 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.

    Liked by 1 person

    Reply

    1. 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.

      Liked by 1 person

      Reply

  9. 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 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

    Reply

  14. 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.

    Liked by 1 person

    Reply

    1. 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.

      Like

      Reply

  15. 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!!

    Liked by 1 person

    Reply

  21. 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.

    Liked by 1 person

    Reply

  23. 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 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

    Reply

  24. 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.

    Liked by 1 person

    Reply

  27. 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

    Liked by 1 person

    Reply

  31. 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.

    Liked by 2 people

    Reply

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

Gravatar
WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. ( Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. ( Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. ( Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. ( Log Out /  Change )

Cancel

Connecting to %s