Thursday, August 23, 2012

#7 suza scalora fairy


The Dead Girl

we're very popular these days
why wouldn't we be?
smiling in the photos before we were taken
young pretty and missing
but there's another reason
(we'll tell you, later)

well the ancient greeks liked us, too
we're in almost all the fairy tales
but those guys brought us back to life
with just a kiss
or transformed us into something
a flower or a tree
or, at least, like shakespeare, immortalized us with poetry
(it's not always that simple)

think of the transparent coffin, the wall of briars
think of the lake filled with flowers
where our hair floats like the roots of water lilies
these may be pretty images but we're so alone
we suffered more than you the living
will ever know
and even if you kiss our lips
we'll still taste like a glass box
(and soon we'll start to rot)

but you'll keep worshiping our memory
we hold a mystery you sense but haven't solved
in us She is carried down through time
(in us She lives)








11 comments:

  1. Tomorrow

    I'll dream of you tomorrow
    when the final leaf has browned
    once all the blossoms wither
    and the drums of winter sound

    But while green and pink still trumpet
    and colored notes stay warm the day
    tendrils curl the sun into them
    to foster leaves in which to lay

    I'll dream of you as daylight softens
    remember strength flowed in our arms
    covered paths and covet hearts
    I'm sure you whispered for my charms

    With a crown I've left you dazzled
    Cheeks purple and yellow bloom
    to face Apollo's dimming locks
    at summer's end, gathering gloom

    in shadows hides plainly;
    we needn't wait for snow to drape
    as your eyes open to nothing
    following the act of rape

    I'll remember you tomorrow
    but forget your warmth today
    why you ever trusted me
    is for none to say

    ReplyDelete
  2. empty shell girl
    where is your soul
    did you lose it
    giving too much away

    did you forget
    who you were
    fake it so much that you couldn't tell
    what was real anymore anyway

    did you bury yourself
    under lily pads
    mossy reeds, and evergreens
    beneath layers of fuschia and lavender flowers

    are you hiding behind the long hair
    you were asked to grow out
    or the extensions you needed to buy

    where are your eyes
    under glimmer shimmer shadows
    lined like an ancient Egyptian

    artificial blush flush
    lips a straight line
    because you lost your smile
    under the debris

    lost in the forest
    lost in the pond
    lost inside

    is it cold
    can you see a reflection

    ReplyDelete
  3. i'm wearing green today
    as i run through trees and underbrush
    like i'm a baby deer
    frolicking on my way to the library
    my mother asleep in our den

    the hill ahead deceives me
    i run down the wrong path, a tree ahead
    i barely dodge and roll to the bottom
    cradling my knee

    the forest becomes a parking lot,
    the sun i was racing disappears completely
    and the street lights tower ominous, i think
    this must be a nightmare

    i wake, but the pain says i've broken
    and the doctor says it's just a twist

    ReplyDelete
  4. This comment has been removed by the author.

    ReplyDelete
  5. i let myself become
    a tributary
    i cradled silver and gold

    the mercy shown
    by any other cupid
    dreaming of an arrow
    to loose to learn to love
    you
    quicksilver desire
    changing shape and
    colour in front to me
    i held out both hands
    i held out my reservations
    and became a beckoning
    siren

    i let myself become
    a tribututary
    i cradled silver and gold
    breathing heavy mercury

    i begged for the arrow
    to pierce the cold fog
    within me to allow me
    to taste fully the fig
    juices parting.

    ReplyDelete
  6. I failed art.

    I had a knife instead of a
    paintbrush and no sense of
    proportion.

    By what means can you
    become (clean) the palimpest,
    turning scars into flowers
    becoming a garden of a girl,
    a landscape instead of
    abstract expressionism

    ReplyDelete
  7. Evergreen surround me
    I've been inside my house with the branches I dragged in and the cut sunflower for 89 cents
    an orphan seeking her earth mother
    thinking crazy in a traffic jam
    about abandoning my car to pick the sunflowers
    on the side of the road
    my feet are restless to go running through the night
    there are no coyotes and rattlesnakes, but there are dangerous men out there so I remain in my house like a zoo animal
    who dreams of their true wings, their strong limbs, their pointed teeth.
    Like them I was somehow born out of my element.
    If I were to wake up in the middle of a forest, how long would I lie there, wondering if my instincts would ever return to me?
    How would the land look when I finally got up to survive?
    To follow the earth rhythms that set my instincts in motion again?

    ReplyDelete
  8. They warned me about you
    about your charm and your promises
    but still I fell into your bed
    and gave you everything they would have me keep
    for someone else
    or for you if you were ever honest

    then you played mad and they believed that it was for me
    and would play Cupid
    but no...
    you took for granted that I loved
    and shed my blood and drove me mad

    I could not bear my loneliness
    nor the darkness you stored me
    So I fell deeper and deeper still

    Now you weep upon me
    promise and proclaim
    but I belong to the water,
    to the columbines and the daisies



    ReplyDelete
  9. #7

    I smell cinnamon in the air
    the sweet scent of nutmeg and the laughter coming through the window
    outside to where I am sitting,
    waiting for snowflakes and the temperature to drop

    I feel it in the air tonight
    the season's changing
    the leaves are falling
    changing color and my hair is beginning
    to feel thin and
    frizzy

    a sign
    that we are near
    to shorter days
    longer nights

    and I can wear my scarves
    in reds, greens, fuzzy and silk
    not that I have a silk scarf
    but it would be nice.

    ReplyDelete
  10. This is the poem that for me to start writing again today....thank you

    ReplyDelete