The fields sluiced with rain on the leafing of memory, On each rock and scree living in the Appalachian breeze. The mind of frost crusted in the corbeil undressing in the air. Where is our consciousness? The bluster of stone streaked in corrupt minds on the last [...]
Two sportsmen were approaching, followed by a three, a five, a six This band of amateurs coming after me to carry me home on sweat-soaked shoulders, shirts cotton, buttoned down Hooped, green-yellow; striped red-white, fearsome sight On cold community playing-fields, under glaring floodlights Brothers a-rated, know their strengths, ready for the fight Ruck, reverse ball, [...]
It happened again the dead sea full of dried emotions and the charm to write about withering winters happened again, from my arms to my toe nails with colors and with a paint- brush the knuckles are red due to migraine, the bosoms are sagging due to age. The concept of time throws my memory [...]
. Boxer, can you see through bloodied vision? this conflict born from all of Adam's sons subterfuge meets necessity in life's arena He stands alone who thinks alone homeless who battles indecision and oppression or who stands for his own valour In the clearing where all men may fail, fearless David feigned his madness only [...]
silent to my blood along the bone garden I have known the women, living and dead, eyes seized the one moon, (a ghost sleeps) in my body dissociating a star at my spring bones my garden, my home a sparse death in my hair the wind. © 2021 lucysworks.com All Rights Reserved.
A View By The Sea .. . The dead die young Ernest Albert Bett your concrete grave is a trough with no pigs yet in it just convolvulus and ivy I stepped across your withered torso the silence of the dogs I walk death in spades around me shadows of oak walk past me Gravelled [...]
https://youtu.be/T9Ztg-Pxsc0 For further work, visit QueenMaya Rose on YouTube or her site.
Hello all. My friend, Gabby, is the co-founder of a rising literature magazine called EPTIRE and they are currently accepting submissions for their first magazine edition. EPTIRE is now accepting submissions for poetry, prose, fiction, non-fiction, articles, artwork, and photography. They are a youth-led magazine and are based more politically, as well with a focus [...]
Guilt O' guilty ~ here take my hands, my teeth, my voice! ... In Memory of Jesse Washington (1897 - 1916) I am crawling on my knees rolling in the dust and the cinder ashes of this tragedy, coals to my feet Spittle hanging from my chin my eyes swelling in their shrinking sockets of [...]
If I was the poet with a thorn in my side, I was; I brought another drop from the gardens on these hands and this body of stone; I ripen in her arms I bleed in the wind to hide like a coward; the moon-born bedsheets call, twisting vines in the thorns of youth until [...]
I am a droplet off the sun. A madman huntingTaunting roots of a clockwork rain.© 2020 lucysworks.com All Rights Reserved. Found this in my drafts for a long prose piece I’ve since abandoned. Funny, how looking back, I didn’t see much to it until I recently changed the final line.
In two moons, a pseudoknot is in my blood begging to close about my last breath it wasn’t the echoing of gargoyles in our death-beds wandering our roots taken more by wiles and gutted solstice endless in your eyes I know you’re killing me © 2021 lucysworks.com All Rights Reserved. Written for the dVerse quadrille [...]
death by all the flowers into my hands; moon-struck in the deconstruction of the womb in night of envying cults of orgasm, her prime ashes moon taunts and she rises the black lily until such thorns are wounds upon the sculptural song and dance, as our silhouettes weep, to die. © 2021 lucysworks.com All Rights [...]
Back in November 2020, I had three poems that appeared in the Scarlet Leaf Review under my pseudonym Ellie Onka. Many thanks to EIC Roxana Nastase for accepting "I wondered when I first remembered...", "Hidden", and the first poem that I could be proud of, "To Accede Into My Own Desires" (that had appeared before [...]
.. A white stripe daubed across, broken up from left eye to right there is the cottage The subject, a lemon cheesecake with a loganberry three-corner hat Like a coulé sauce running all over its gable roof square, bright the brush Broccoli green, squeezing the saps stream gamboge, quinacridone, [...]
My work was featured on a podcast called A Poetic Slice of Life. This episode delves into discussion of poetry and Game of Thrones: “Join us on storyboards. Each Saturday night the theme of the show is different from sci fi, cult classic movies, to comic book heaven with a side of entertainment that carries [...]
think I am a snowball in hell; I am a barbed leaf in the debris. I make myself empty of your words; they float on my bones
A kaleidoscope in death take me where the poet lays for I should never see again the final act; halcyon; like the esplanades I once walked upon at the thunderous chaos of my ghost; have we met in the aches and laughs woefully of all that is strange; orgasmic ambrosia dissociation chuckles into the bloodlust [...]
is it pseudopsychosis? ask me when the moon is stripped to her feet
dragons head . I woke one day in that awful season pulling wallpaper from the drabbest wall I heard the cuckoo in my head, that sound I had come to dread and larks ascending Descending, on an unmade bed where art lives for arts sake neath a poem of bard Blake . I woke in [...]