Little Death

Little crescent moon –

Half formed, blanketed in black.
The phantom’s mask –

Your shrouded body
curls and unfurls like an old tapestry,

Contradicting your newness.
The shadow of you

Lurks in your dark stage,
a theatre so everyday

Yet so magical.
Enthralling, universal.

Trapped in a starless sky,
unaware of your impending freedom;

The murder scene you’ll leave behind
in your operatic debut.

The inkjet of blood that will not stop.

Previously appeared on Mothers Always Write.

Snowflake

In our cottage, echoing in silence,
words became taboo;
inducing an early winter.

The snow fell in hordes,
pitter-pattering
down upon this town.

We let go
of our silent vows,
as its flaking lullaby began.

With numb gloved fingers,
we moulded her,
sculpting the perfect doll.

We glazed her porcelain skin with ice,
crudely poked in her eye sockets;
our own Frozen Charlotte.

We longed for her eyes to flutter open,
even for just one glassy glance.

Previously published in THE SEASONS: A Collection of Poetry and Prose on Spring, Summer, Autumn and Winter, 2017.

 

New designs in Etsy shop

5 designs new to Wuthering Mites.

Find out more info on these designs by visiting the Etsy shop or following the links above. 

Publication – The Seasons

Three of my poems have been included in ‘The Seasons: A Collection of Poetry and Prose on Spring, Summer, Autumn and Winter’.

You can purchase the collection on Amazon.

For more info on this collection, see Collections of Poetry & Prose.

The poems included of mine are ‘Falling Leaf’, ‘Flowers Aren’t Always Restful To Look At’ and ‘Snowflake’.