Fear Not My Darling

We wait together, you and I

as night falls, light dies, extinguished

day’s death never grieves us

illuminated in moon’s torchlight

we navigate night’s crippling darkness

find shelter in its blank canvas

and feast on fear, you and I

swallow bitter disappointment until

satisfied enough to try again.

~The H Word~

‘Spinster’ by Sylvia Plath

My second post this evening is by another poetry great, Sylvia Plath. Plath is another of those poets who stops you in your tracks, often abruptly, with her words demanding emotions you were not quite prepared for. There are again a whole host of poems to choose from but I have selected ‘Spinster’ as it is one of my favourites. We begin with a girl taking a seemingly harmless, enjoyable stroll in April; it is Springtime, a time of hope and sunshine, however do not be fooled, this is Plath, and this is no ordinary tale of two lovers taking a walk in April. I hope you enjoy!


‘Spinster’ by Sylvia Plath

Now this particular girl
During a ceremonious April walk
With her latest suitor
Found herself, of a sudden, intolerably struck
By the birds’ irregular babel
And the leaves’ litter.

By this tumult afflicted, she
Observed her lover’s gestures unbalance the air,
His gait stray uneven
Through a rank wilderness of fern and flower.
She judged petals in disarray,
The whole season, sloven.

How she longed for winter then! –
Scrupulously austere in its order
Of white and black
Ice and rock, each sentiment within border,
And heart’s frosty discipline
Exact as a snowflake.

But here – a burgeoning
Unruly enough to pitch her five queenly wits
Into vulgar motley –
A treason not to be borne. Let idiots
Reel giddy in bedlam spring:
She withdrew neatly.

And round her house she set
Such a barricade of barb and check
Against mutinous weather
As no mere insurgent man could hope to break
With curse, fist, threat
Or love, either.


References:

Plath, S. (1985) ‘Spinster’ from Selected Poems. London: Faber and Faber Ltd, 4-5

Dead End

It looked like a road
to nowhere. Even
the warped paving
appeared to have given
up resembling anything
worth walking on.

There were no neat
white lines, no bright
streetlights. Only darkness,
foreboding, twisted vines
creeping over collapsed walls
and rusted railings.

It was not a place designed
for moving on, yet turning
back felt impossible. Finding
yourself there seemed
inevitable. It was the road
you had to take.

~The H Word~

#NaPoWriMo

Dreaming in the afternoon…

Springtime sunshine warms my skin
garden explodes with green potential
laughter hitches a ride on the gentle breeze
rumbles of traffic groan in the distance
otherwise, it is silent. A perfect time to think
of all the things I should be doing
if I only had the energy. Instead, I sit,
sensing the day slip away
closer and closer to that final exhale.

~The H Word~

#NaPoWriMo2021 #DayThree

Streetlights…

Our streetlights used to be orange

as was the case in most places

but a few years ago they changed

to stark white and now cast an eerie

glow on the road and pavements.

The council must have had their reasons,

one would hope, but I miss the warmth

of the old ones. Now, when I look outside

the street has a sinister feel that wasn’t there

before. Highlighted even more by the lack

of people. Lockdown has cut down

the flow of neighbours

and dog walkers

to a minimum.

Now our ghostly street is a shadow

of its former self and I wonder

if other streets are the same

if other people feel the same

or is it just me?

~The H Word~

Demon Dancer

Like a prima pirouetting,
tip-toed en-point perfection,
each step revealing devastation
caused by her damned hand.

Feather-footed she performs
dancing deep in crimson pools
hate-spilled blood reflecting piles
of corpses scattered, far and wide.

Devil’s muse, she most desires
chaos raining down on earth
declaring time on numbered days
announcing they are gone.

Eyes like twins from Hades seed
cast around before she leaves
a trail of red, a signature
to show that she was here.

One last breath of hell-fire heat
and finally, she disappears.
Destruction is her calling card
and death her parting gift.

In the Dead of Night

In the dead of night
when most are sleeping
her deadly harmonies
drift on evil winds.

Haunting melodies urge
wickedness forward
to claim the souls
of any left stranded.

They appear, demented,
by her satanic tune
sin crazed creatures
controlled by music.

Their bodies contort
in misshapen movement
jacked-up on hunger
desperate to feed.

If you find yourself
caught in the dark
keep your head low,
breath held tight

wait for dawn to come
when they crawl below
to the cursed depths
of hell they call home

until the moon returns
and she sings once more
then they’ll rise again
seeking souls to devour.

~The H Word~

#NaPoWriMo2020 Day24

Killing Time

What doesn’t kill you
makes you stronger.
A new superpower
government-gifted
to the sacrificed herd.
Or, better still
call them heroes, instead—
our essential front-line
left unprotected and blind
to get on with it all.
No-ones asking
for heroes
or super-fucking-powers.
Just a fighting chance,
enough ventilators
(and masks).
Society’s clutching
its last strand of sanity,
ripped out at the roots
in frustrated rage.
Reality? Should have
its license revoked,
along with the jokers
calling the shots.
I’ve seen horror movies
offer more hope.
Humanity reveals
its tainted underside
reckless protesters
assemble to give
ignorance a chance.
Vague regulations
social distance resistance
encourages the selfish
who couldn’t care less
about the widows they make
for freedom’s sake.
Pandemonium weakens
to washed-out dismay.
Astonishment fades
to shady complacency.
Take a bite of the news,
try and swallow the bile
acerbic indigestion
a bitter reward
for your time.
Truth’s an alien concept
to the trusted elected.
High-born sociopaths
(or game-show hosts)
play with thousands
of lives, the stakes
have never been higher.
It’s no witty affair
when empathy’s scarce.
So, take yourself for a walk
your once-a-day jaunt.
Mind, set a brisk pace
keep depression
at bay, for a while.
It’s killing time.
#NaPoWriMo2020 #Day19

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