Amelia In The Frame

RDP Thursday – DEEP

 

Her name is Amelia and she hangs upon my wall

trapped in a frame

from a five and ten cent store.

 

Her eyes are flat and cold

her cheeks are pale and slack

Her jaw is wired shut

there are metal hands upon her back.

 

The bow on top her head

has been tied with love and care

and someone long ago

curled her long brown hair.

 

Her dress was to big and her shoes didn’t fit

and every time

she saw them hanging  in her closet

she closed her eyes and said;

” Ma, I’m just dying to wear this dress. ”

Before winter hit,  she did.

 

 

My Monsters

I wanted to craft a story

with ink, with needles with thread

I wanted to craft a story about

monsters and graveyards and the living dead.

I wanted to carve a story on bone, on stone on the insides of

my eyelids

I wanted to write a story

but the words

are staying out of my head.

The cowards.

Where Nothing Lives

RDP Monday: SCREAM

Photo by Emre Can on Pexels.com

There are no locks on the doors

in the rooms  where nothing lives.

There isn’t a single sheet of glass

in

the window frames at the house where nothing comes in  and nothing ever leaves.

Nothing is down in the basement

nothing lives in the walls

nothing is rotting in the attic

nothing was forgotten in the kitchen cupboards.

Nothing is in the dead house

at the end of the road

from where you live, from where I live.

And In that prison

nothing screams in it’s endless terror

without ever taking

a single breath.

The Destroying Angel

 

In the Spring

in the woods

under a cool blanket of leaves

Amanita Verna waits for you

to find her, to pluck her

to raise her to your lips in blissful hunger

Go ahead.

Close your eyes

and then

taste her, bite her, open your mouth and swallow her

she won’t take you heart or break your heart

she’ll just shut it down

and then

we can bury you  in the Spring

in the woods

where you can be with

Amanita Verna

forever.

 

 

Inspired By: RDP Thursday – Fungus

 

How To Be The Curious Traveler

There are buildings you’ve never seen before

with

cats lounging in windows,  curled in improbable shapes around potted plants, snoozing with one eye open under wind chimes, their fuzzy cheeks pressed against half drunk cans of soda pop.

There are streets you’ve never walked down before

lined with pastel colored cars and brightly colored garbage cans parked on the curbs where they silently fight for space on sidewalks much smaller then the ones at home

and

squeezed between brick and wooden houses and markets with decals of dancing fruit and children eating ice cream on their glass doors

are

little diners named after Mothers and Grandfathers and sometimes dogs that have  chickens and alligators or maybe fish painted on the windows.

 

Don’t pretend like you know where you’re going

as you stroll by the cats, the diners, the markets, the parked cars

don’t walk with the swagger and squint of a seasoned traveler, the wily  explorer who has scaled the  pyramids or cruised all of the  Seven Seas years ago on a dare.

Put the phone away, delete the app, it’s okay

to

take a wrong turn

to not know where this road leads and that road ends

So

don’t

close your eyes,

don’t take a breath

Jump right on in

the

water

is

fine.

 

Na/GloPoWriMo :It Begins Day 2- For our first (optional) prompt, let’s take our cue from O’Neil’s poem, and write poems that provide the reader with instructions on how to do something.