The lake waits
for the wind to breathe;
freezing her to the silence
of mute stars.
She had worn her mourning gown
of splintered secrets until
its shards cut through
the roses on her breast.
Love should not be made of
onyx and wolfsbane.
The poisonous darkness
kills affection with its applications
of liar’s poultice and nausea.
Dead without a burial
she walks on the tepid water
painting its mirror with despair.
Beseeching the wind to breathe
she waits for it to exhale
and send her to haunt
the flesh of her deception.
©Susie Clevenger 2012
Real Toads' Kenia Cris challenged us on her Wednesday Challenge to take a line
from a friend's poem to create a surrealistic poem of our own.
I chose the following haiku written by my friend Ben Ditmars
as the inspiration for my writing.
The
lake waits
For
the wind to breathe;
Freezing
her.
©Ben
Ditmars
Comments
" painting its mirror with despair. Beseeching the wind to breathe she waits for it to exhale and send her to haunt the flesh of her deception."
She is the wind, she is the lake, she is the moon, and she is all she has ever cut herself and dosed herself with too. I love your painting and wish now I could pick up charcoal and draw this, image by image in the wind.
This is dark, mysterious and yes, quite surreal:
'Love should not be made of onyx and wolfsbane. The poisonous darkness kills affection with its applications of liar’s poultice and nausea.'
That really hits the nail on the head.
Great Haiku you chose to use too.
K
onyx and wolfsbane.
mute stars...
This poem is packed with imagery and also like the idea of facing toward a big water, waiting for the wind to breathe...
Just beautiful and I looked up wolfsbane (a poisonous plant)