Monday, March 15, 2010

Magpie Tales - Week Five


I've decided to join Willow's Magpie Tales for today. Each week she posts a prompt around which a tale should be formed. Click the link above to see other offerings.

This week's prompt reminded me of a poem I wrote my senior year in college (December 2, 1985, to be exact!). I'm annoyed with myself that I have to add this caveat - but I don't want to alarm family members: I'm uncomfortable with the subject matter because politically I'm pro-choice, but on a personal level I'm glad I never had to make the choice. What I apparently did not have a choice about was writing the poem!


Ironic Trust

I saw it again tonight.
The look, trust eyes
doewide
dark & deep with love.
I shut the door
and looked, surprised,
at four red crescents
in my hand.
The match makes
glowarcs in the black
before it finally finds
the wick.
A pale half moon
wavers in the mirror
shining wetly.
When the candle
is just cold wax
and burnt cloth
I sit in the alone
and watch the dark
and contemplate the look.
I have never seen the eyes
but when I close mine
they are there
shining love.
And so I stare
wide-blankly
and feel the
great empty
cavern
of my womb.

19 comments:

Brian Miller said...

and feel the empty cavern of my womb...wow...nicely done.

altar ego said...

I know all about that empty cavern called womb. What I don't know about are red crescents. Am I having a blond moment?

Anonymous said...

Wow! this is a great endevour into the Magpie Tales. I admire those of you who participate, as this is not my strong suit. Excellent, and keep up the good works.

Tess Kincaid said...

Haunting and sad. I'm intrigued with the mysterious four red crescents.

So glad you linked to Magpie, Bug!

The Bug said...

It's the marks my fingernails make when I clench my fist :)

Ann T. said...

Dear The Bug,
I got the clenching fist, I did.

You really do have talent, I think you should keep on with the magpie!

Ann T.

Ronda Laveen said...

It is interesting to back and read pieces that were done long ago. I recently found a binder I used in high school for all of my so called poetry. Some still holds up. Some not. This is truly a lovely, poignant piece.

On another note, Evening Light Writer also responded to my e-mail saying she was just ending a phase of her life and would return. Thanks for you correspondence, Dana.

little hat said...

Lovely work Bug. I didn;t get the four cresents but I love them now. "doewide doeeyed" Very evocative.
I don't have any writing from my school days. A few embarrassing pieces from eary Uni era and lots of letters i wrote my parents when i first left home to live interstate. Strange that my mother kept them for thirty odd years.

Anonymous said...

Well done.

DUTA said...

Sweet poem!
It opens with eyes "deep with love", and ends with eyes of "shining love". And in the middle of it and of the dark night - the match, candle, and the pale moon cooperating and providing for some light to enable staring at that look, at those eyes.

Jan of Thousand Acres said...

Mystical and hauntingly sad. Nicely written.

Vicki Lane said...

Strong sad images. Beautiful.

tori said...

I can see why this won an award. I hope that you will give Magpie a try again.

steviewren said...

I too can imagine the empty cavern...sad poem full of genuine feeling.

Argent said...

Great writing! Loved the red crescents and striking match image. Keep it up, you're good at this.

robkistner said...

This is real and honest -- I enjoyed this, thank you for sharing…
…rob
Image & Verse

Peter Goulding said...

Writing from the heart is always more powerful.
Didn't get the four red crescents - if you were submitting that, I'd wonder about making it a bit clearer somehow as a few of us didn't get it.
Very very good

Anonymous said...

so effective ...

four crescents - doewide dark & deep - great empty cavern of my womb

very poignant and haunting...

Bella

chiccoreal said...

A throughly poignant and provocative poem. I can almost smell the candle burning wetly. And the red crescents? Are these tattoos? Or symbols of some kind? Haunting. Well done!

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