“To Honor the Sun”

secret rites enacted in a remote valley
are known only to the extent
that the revelers will allow it

their temple a sunken ruin
releases no sound as figures converge
within the airy shrine

two souls tarry behind the wall
their flesh ripened by Ra’s heated kiss
features hewn from desert stone

shrill voices creak and cry ancient songs
devotions lift words strung together
too closely to be deciphered

outside, one of Ra’s suntouched
lofts a feather, an offering to
their undying father, a gift of praise

now they join the others within
approaching the altar
the initiates join their hands

thick braids bound at the nape
sliced in supplication
as head is severed from heart

crimson stains the mortar again
pools, and infuses the earth
the knotted grass drinks in death

When Shawna posted another Midweek Melting I was thrilled, and decided to challenge myself to use all the words, and in order. The words are “remote extent sunk release shrine tarried ripen hewn creak strung loft braid nape mortar knot”.  I didn’t know when I started writing it where the story was taking me, and was somewhat pleasantly surprised by it, but then realized it also connected to Think Tank Thursday #98, which asks us to explore the meaning of ‘honor’.

“Brilliant Madness”

I am not perfect. I am not prefabricated.
I am not a facsimile.
I am not
carbon copied,
devoid of deviation.
No.
I am deviant.
I am composed of impulse.
I am magic incarnate.
Imperfect energy
which explodes in passionate
displays.
I am alien ideas
and contrary thoughts.
Incongruous moods hurling
lingual spears.
I am the deafening
roar
and the imperfect silence
of night.
I am corrupt.
I am capable of brilliant madness.
I crumble articulately.
I astound
and offend, and scandalize
just as much
as I delight, and impress
and arouse.

I often find myself inspired by someone else’s writing. This time it came in an incredible rush from 8 simple words from Ivy League Insecurities’ take on Monday’s Trifecta prompt “Wild”. Those words form the first line of this work, and it all tumbled out from there.

Also linked to Poets United’s Poetry Pantry #100.

“Yarn”

Twisted strands
of memory.
Link upon link
each building on the
next.
The very fiber of
recollection.

Poetry Mixtape’s prompt this week was to Keep It Simple, Stupid, and I found it a bit harder than I thought it might be, but I think I managed to write something that has the layers of meaning needed for this particular prompt. And since this week’s Trifextra challenge is to write something in three lines, linking it there as well.

“Autumn’s Soul”

love thyself

you know you want to
I know you do anyway

see the way through

ignore the trees
set the forest aflame

dare to dream

of riches and raves
and darkest nights

seek to follow

a path of your own
lit by lightning bugs

once upon another lifetime

there was magic afoot
but it still breathes

music rips through it

like razors, detached
insensitive as they bite

walking the line

between black and white
between real and imagined

aching for relief

from confusion of self
or at least from self

whiskery kiss

of the tiger’s tail
a temptation unfamiliar

prolonged moments of possibility

broaden the sense of
impending discovery

ripening thoughts

to be harvested when
days grow short and sweet

Written completely stream of consciousness (though much of my writing is honestly done that way) though I went back and added in the indented parts after streaming out the original lines. Linked up to d’Verse’s Stream of Consciousness post, as well as to One Single Impression, who encouraged us to write about “black and white” this week.

OneWord: retrieve

Her fingers twist a single key
tumblers slide
click
and release.
Those same fingers reach
into the open
space.
She retrieves a single coin
flips it, heads or tails;
heads
it is, she loses.