The Girl God : And the Congregation Said... By Poet On Watch

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Lance Strate's Blog Time Passing: Thunderation!

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embrujada by Donna Snyder

My poem, embrujada, won the Rock the Chair challenge for the Yellow Chair Review and will be published in their August 2015 issue.  This is substantially the same poem with minor changes.

embrujada featured at the Yellow Chair Review's Rock the Chair

embrujada

she seeks truth in a boy’s flesh
he has none
nothing promised
nothing given
nothing subtle nor redemptive
a flame between her eyes
fire at the tip of a spotted nose
burning bush splinters and ash
disconsolate night gives birth to fate

ancient house of cactus and brick
she howls there in the shadows
a starved dog on a hot night
dystopic present tense here to stay
decay accumulates with every breath
nothing borrowed and nothing new
honest blues buried in the back yard
a stone grave
a brass bowl
an angel carved from a dead tree
her self caught in retro porn chic
no satisfaction to be had
grace and wisdom another myth

the only truth found in a drunk tattoo
ugly monkey
frog beauty
frantic ache
sad tequila spit of rain across her face
language no more her gorgeous cloud
no mermaid symphony
no siren song
no wild sweet echoing in the dusk
gentle oasis gone dry too damned fast
warm flesh now snow cold soon old
a foul shadow left behind to tantalize
time chained and drunk in a pine cave
the universe dancing to night’s song

public domain image found in Wiki related to the Greek Goddess Nyx
La Nuit by William Adolphe Bouguere

Fwd: Poem of the Day: One Hundred Love Sonnets: XVII

Why does this have to come today, as if to mock me? My favorite poet, the power of his love poems, enter my home in the night, electronic reminders that passion and desire are no longer my provenance, long since decayed in a cemetery's dry earth, with no grass or trees, here where the sun brings death, not breath. 

The mail, Neruda, the world sing in unison, You are alive in a world that does not love you, does not know how or why you should be loved. My escape route littered by empty pill bottles, stumbling, I follow footprints of callous children and disloyal dogs into limbo. The devil has taken residence in the body of a Welsh witch who finds no satisfaction. Chamisa in flames grows the desert. Dust and ashes fill my mouth.

Poem of the Day One Hundred Love Sonnets XVII by Pablo Neruda

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Your Words a String of Drunken Pearls by Donna Snyder

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La Bloga: my review of Valentín Sandoval's South Sun Rises

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