am I still ill?

A fissured father of stone,

poisoned by the vale, a bridal’s helm

rushing through the billow waves, I billow

blood from the clouds, awaiting for the frost

dead uncles in May with his ghost; dementing

in Autumn, what wilderness flooded

to the unvisited dream, the ocean’s ungues

cutting through faint music

like a lotus growing ill—I dream

than trench the hoar frost; I billow,

I nest into the mad tree,

leafed into the hoof-beats of the

poet’s nakedness, I don’t have anything left,

you can spend years in the abyssal hunt,

the haven of our gods like an apparition

feeding the rain—the poison I fall

and then hatch into the splintered egg

a void is born; ossify our dug up ghosts,

in icy air around the red chariot of our bones.

© 2020 lucysworks.com All Rights Reserved.


Written for the dVerse prompt: Today we will incorporate music in our poem from the perspective of a synesthete.   Create your own Symphony.  Infuse your musical experience when listening to a band, artist or musical genre, with colors, sounds & textures.   Write a song filled with colors.

I was really inspired by the song Still Ill by The Smiths.


  37 comments for “am I still ill?

  1. SteelWarrior/PoetOfSteel
    December 3, 2020 at 3:57 pm

    Yes, yes, and yes.

    Liked by 2 people

  2. silent poetry
    December 3, 2020 at 4:00 pm

    Amazing Lucy 😊 “in icy air around the red chariot of our bones” love it, really lovely 🌹❤️❤️

    Liked by 3 people

    • December 4, 2020 at 1:17 am

      Thank you. 😀

      Like

  3. December 3, 2020 at 4:01 pm

    The mad tree, and the sick flower… you have a wonderful way of finding unique images.

    Liked by 1 person

    • December 4, 2020 at 1:17 am

      Thank you so much, Bjorn!

      Like

  4. December 3, 2020 at 5:22 pm

    Good morning Lucy, such vivid imagery, and these lines I plucked out, because they conducted a music score into my mind…
    “I nest into the mad tree,
    leafed into the hoof-beats of the
    poet’s nakedness,”

    Liked by 1 person

    • December 4, 2020 at 1:17 am

      Thank you so much, Ivor. I really love the music you shared!

      Liked by 1 person

      • December 4, 2020 at 1:21 am

        My pleasure Lucy, I’m glad you enjoyed the song…

        Liked by 1 person

  5. sanaarizvi
    December 3, 2020 at 5:39 pm

    This is phenomenal writing, Lucy! I love; “I nest into the mad tree, leafed into the hoof-beats of the
    poet’s nakedness.” The imagery in your poems is always so striking 💝💝

    Liked by 1 person

    • December 4, 2020 at 1:15 am

      Thank you very much, Sanaa!

      Like

  6. December 3, 2020 at 5:42 pm

    I really love your work Lucy. It’s like a cornucopia for your mind. Your style is strong and stirring and you do it damned well.

    Liked by 2 people

    • December 4, 2020 at 1:15 am

      Aww, thank you Rob. ❤

      Like

  7. December 3, 2020 at 6:17 pm

    Love the depths of emotions here: I nest into the mad tree,
    leafed into the hoof-beats of the
    poet’s nakedness, I don’t have anything left

    My first time to hear that band – amazing sounds!

    Thanks for joining in!

    Liked by 1 person

    • December 4, 2020 at 1:14 am

      Thank you so very much!

      Like

  8. Glenn A. Buttkus
    December 3, 2020 at 6:35 pm

    As Rob noted, your style is lusty, macabre, stirring, and magnificently yours. It matures and grows weekly. You have leagues to go before reaching your poetic apex. Your poetics have a dark through-line, but rarely do you repeat yourself. I wish I could say the same for myself.

    Liked by 1 person

    • December 4, 2020 at 1:14 am

      Thank you, Glenn.

      Like

  9. December 3, 2020 at 7:50 pm

    A plethora of vivid imagery wrapped in deep emotions. Brava!

    Liked by 1 person

  10. December 3, 2020 at 10:34 pm

    I liked Ivor’s lines as well. … poet’s nakedness, I don’t have anything left, This leads me to think of the truth, that poets really do reveal themselves until there is nothing left!!

    The splintered egg was a very nice image!!

    Liked by 1 person

  11. December 3, 2020 at 10:35 pm

    Dear Lucy, why do I imagine you writing in some moldering dungeon by candlelight? Did I forget deep and dark?

    Liked by 1 person

    • December 4, 2020 at 1:14 am

      Dear Lynn, it is because you are correct; I also have a crow who rests upon my shoulder, that with each dip of the fountain pen to the inkwell as I write, he squawks.

      Thank you so much. 🙂

      Liked by 1 person

  12. December 3, 2020 at 10:44 pm

    I love the ending, it’s all feeding the rain, isn’t it? And then those splintered eggs and dug up ghosts, the visuals are all so visceral. I’m happy we have a red chariot at the end to carry off the bones. It’s a swish of color that sticks in the memory, great piece!

    Liked by 1 person

  13. December 4, 2020 at 1:39 am

    All those deep textures create so many levels of feeling, and then you bring in the red chariot at the end which startles the senses because it’s an unusual colour for a chariot – the Red Death? Another strikingly wonderful poem, Lucy!

    Liked by 1 person

  14. December 4, 2020 at 4:09 am

    Now that was unexpected, The Smiths! I haven’t listened to them in ages, at least not since my friend moved to France – she was a huge fan. You certainly got the colours right, Lucy! I love the alliterative ‘fissured father of stone’, the sound of ‘the ocean’s ungues cutting through faint music’, and the lines:
    ‘…ossify our dug up ghosts,
    in icy air around the red chariot of our bones’.
    I agree with Ingrid, the red chariot is startling.

    Liked by 1 person

    • December 5, 2020 at 1:24 am

      Oh, I just love The Smiths. Perhaps to an unhealthy degree!

      Thank you so much, Kim! ❤ ❤

      Liked by 1 person

  15. December 4, 2020 at 8:33 am

    So brilliantly written 👍
    I love this and the inspirational song (obvs 😉) 🖤🖤

    Liked by 1 person

  16. December 4, 2020 at 8:38 am

    You pack so much into your words Lucy and your imagery is so creative.

    Liked by 1 person

  17. Xan
    December 4, 2020 at 11:13 am

    This gave me chills. The slightly-off cadence and not-quite-misuse of words, the rare vocabulary and the final, chilling, line. Beautiful.

    Liked by 1 person

    • December 5, 2020 at 1:25 am

      Thank you so much.

      Like

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