roots upon her bosom, it recalls the sects of womb, our lady of bones, nigh the stream of oceanid killers; winter’s digits outstretched, absence of memory in the tides, I’m sure as the lilies turn black, and your lip twists, idles upon bare death, cutting off heads must be very satisfying, almost as fingers tapping into madness dreamt upon red-lands, the moon blinded by the osprey; but minds wait in guilt whilst flowers turn to wounds, worthy of boredom and poison, makes me ask, why die for pride? © 2020 lucysworks.com All Rights Reserved.
Written 11/4/2020 for an All Poetry prompt contest. I’ve posted about this before with it being on a podcast, but I never officially posted the poem on here.
It won honorable mention and was featured with a voice recording of myself reading the poem on “A Poetic Slice of Life” podcast segment concerning Game of Thrones.
You can find me reading it at the 2:14:42 mark.
I used these quotes as a paraphrase in this poem:
“Don’t die for pride when you can fight for your blood.”— Brienne of Tarth
“I’m sure cutting off heads is very satisfying…” – Sansa Stark “Littel Bird, Queen of the North”
Reposted for the 5/27/2021 dVerse OLN.