Lunar Possession

Vociferous stranger, vacant you swoon

Dispersing anathemas with each step

Whence meters find their distant promenade

Benumbed sentry traipsing beneath grey moons

With the countenance of dark secrets kept

As rays lower upon your unmarked grave

The furtive glance secretes visions of ruin

As spindrifts thrash forth their echoic stet

Forever haunting the taciturn stave

Hunger asphyxiates the sated tune

While the parched arrhythmia slowly wept

For the heart knows what the enemy craves

The boy shook, as the thirsting neon crept

Whereas a mother’s love, prayed while he slept

  

 Over at D'Verse, Sam presents us a unique twist to the sonnet form for this week's Formforall, something he calls the Trireme Sonnet.  It was certainly fun putting this piece together, think I wound up deviating from the pentameter a bit in places, but other than that, followed the 10 syllable, ABC-ABC-ABC-ABC-(Choice of AA, BB, or CC Heroic Couplet).  I definitely recommend you check out his article and see what the poets of D'Verse came up with. Cheers!

The Demon's Mother

Born on the banks,

Salty-water riptide stern

Burgeoning current- bound to stir

Backwater blush

Deposited silt and thrush

Swirling eddies grow in you

Entangled miles of entrenched sneer

Years ahead the years long before

Corrosive and indivisible—O’ what hate does breed

Chirping sharp, snorts and moans

If not for love, you’d have been without home

Misshapen smile and lizard skin

Solicits fear in them but anger in you

From cropped palate to claws & tail, each akin

To those boiled last weekend

Yet despite the alternative reality, from what we’ve been taught

This beastly sight, swaddled white, you hold to tight- preaching the fine line between disgust and delight

Everyone’s eyes avert—as if any child could be less than pure

Prayers line the lips of aunts at church

Each offering solution to his curse

Snarling weeds enrapt the hart

Roots connect deep in thee

Allowing the dead to breathe

Trimming clutter from the brook

Agonizing pains for a child so demanding

Yet all is well when he gives that look.

If a woman spends nine months of womb ripping pain, only to find an unexpected sight upon delivery—what does that do to the love shared between mother and child?

If this child is human in name alone—what toll does this have upon the mother-child paradigm—will she still decide to take him home?

What’s a mortal mom to do…

--but love this demon she’s birthed unto

 Well I took this topic of parenting in a different direction today, added a little bit of metaphor into the mix.  But the basic question is a parent loves their children regardless of "anything."  They can certainly disagree with decisions their children make, or become disappointed with actions etc... but they should, someplace inside of them, still love their children.  

I guess I've been reading a little too much psychology.  Whenever I see a mother or a father acting in less than ideal or horrendous manners I always wonder how their upbringing was, in fact it goes beyond this, anybody that does something what I at least, consider to be wrong, I think that perhaps if their upbringing was better things could have been different.  Now I'm sure that not ever ne'er do well comes from a bad family, but there is something to the train of thought, at least in terms of likelihood when put through a psychological filter anyhow.

The story that sparked this though is how a parent could go and have a blackout around their kids and then not know who took their child-lots of fishiness with that story.  So of course I instantly thought back to the Casey Anthony thing and it's a bit troubling to think of how things like these and others get going.  

Anyhow, glad I got that out.  Thanks for listening.

A Mothers' Tear

Inhale.  Orange zest and lemon curls, bouquets sculpt with wild flowers

Geometric ruffling in decorative lace

Devoured by the flavor amidst scripted parsimony,

That leave some so uninspired, yet

As a child I would attend the gala every year,

Chicken cordon bleu, cheese pouring out

Into puddles, infringing upon the green beans,

Baskets filled with fresh baked bread,

A quick slice, to which butter promptly melts

A taste that lemon splashed sparkling water quickly washed away,

Occasionally I’d take notice to the names of guests as they would appear,

On laminated paper, as if anyone could forget who each other were,

I’d Exhale, a simple sigh, as my mother took my tiny hand,

Guiding me away from the feasts and fancy, across the gymnasium floor to our once a year enchanted place, an area more open and clear, where only the two of us would dance and stare,

Still lacquered shiny from the game the night before,

I’d forget about the mud and dirt as that song would play it’s lonesome melody,

And her lips would curl towards the ceiling high, and I’d always wonder why she’d tear

Upon seeing the splendor within my eyes,

But tomorrow the town shall renew once more,

Weekly trips to the fruit stands, riding a bicycle my dad used to own,

Seeing children from the neighborhood, scattered across the grassy groves

Immersed in every type of play imagined, an idea lost with age,

And now, with a moistening of the face, I knew what my mothers’ tears had to say