Sunday, October 9, 2016

All Hallow's Read part III: Good ol' Fashioned Haunting Poetry

We have a lot of things in Texas. A fearlessness about poetry exploring dark themes is one of them. 
via GIPHY
Fearlessness in general, usually. I mean, do you have any idea how many ghost hunters we have? 

Tonight we have the work of three super talented local female poets who've generously given some of their work to share. 

First, book reviewer extraordinaire and blogger from Literary Dust is Candace R. with 
"Curse". 

Curse

Women alter a certain curse
Bleeding from head to toe
Creatures are there to make things worse
Hunting without any type of foe

Disturbances become crystal clear
The dead reach out for help
There are things to fear
Voices tighten, unable to yelp

Once standing with pride
Holding a specific grudge
Wanting to crawl in a ball and hide
Grasping the pulsating nudge

Without power she falls
Inner tombs become sore
A cracked, damaged doll

She lies on the rigid floor






















Leticia Cook with "Untitled"

Untitled

As the sunlight sinks
and the shadows creep
your silhouette is all I still seek.
That Hallow Eve's night
I swear that the knife was simply for fun
and for play.
As you danced and you sang
in your vampire way,
 the knife silently slicing the air!
The look in your face
while your body did sway
I quickly dropped to the floor.
With the blood on your hands
 the tears in my eyes
your look told me it was all okay.
 This Halloween night with that rope hanging tight
I will soon see you sweet face.
I jumped for the earth
my spirit hit the dirt
and waited for your loving embrace.
 Your soul it did rise
much to my surprise
your silhouette simply walked away.




















And last, from local poet Patricia Thibodeaux, (who, from a famous mishearing of the word "wrote", is known as the person who rode a book) is 
"My Hole".

My Hole

Carry my soul
So far away
Into a hole
A hole I'll stay

Live there for years
And never come out
You'll hear my tears
And feel my shouts

The Darkness is here
And my eyes sewn shut
As my life disappears
I desire to cut

Dead I might seem
As I rise from the ground
You'll hear my scream
Then I'll be found

Save me from my sins
When the sickness comes back
Or the disease of my skin
Will soon fade to black


I've found poetry to be a raw, raw thing. Personal and softened in a way most stories can't be. A huge thanks to these girls who contributed their works, and they were a lot of fun to illustrate for. 

So, in the next two weeks: some book talk, some costume posts, a shorter story (at least one) and then the final All Hallow's Eve tale. Enjoy your October (especially those of who who've signed onto the near suicide mission that is Nanowrimo in November, I'll be in the same boat with you shortly...). 

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