Not Every Moon Carries Salvation

 

Widows of the moon dance

their disjointed steps across

the eye of night hoping 

to lure mortal flesh to test

the maze of eternity.

In lace cuffs stitched with ice

and gray wind they turn cartwheels

across window ledges leaving notes

only nightmares can decipher.

Dreamers seasick with visions

roam their own imaginations

trying to escape what daylight

planted in their irises, and words

that are keys that never open doors.

Pale sisters of bladed slivers of light,

they wander the impatient breath

of 3:00 a.m. muting tongues that

pray for deliverance. 

©Susie Clevenger 2023

Word Garden Word List--Keith Reid

Melinoe's Carnival

Fragments of black and white

float through my dreams 

erasing color until my eyes

are an empty house of blue.

On a monochrome sea I beg

for moonlight, but the only

concession is flickers of gray.

In the distance I hear the insistent

notes of an alarm clock knife

the shroud I’m pillowed in. 

Paralyzed, I beg the sun to free me

from Melinoe’s shape-shifting

carnival of ghosts dancing my fears

closer to madness.

©Susie Clevenger 2019

This was inspired by two challenges, the photo from The Sunday Muse, and the prompt at Real Toads.

For Real Toads I chose Get Listed With Grapeling, May 7, 2015  Words I chose from the list for the poem are: fragment, empty, house, sea, and knife. ( Melonie is the Greek goddess of ghosts/nightmares.)

The Sunday Muse #70

Real Toads ~ Play it Again with "Old Toads"

The Brave Side of The Pillow

The black heart of secrets

pressed into my young chest

and even a single breath of trust

had to travel miles of agony

to reach enough light to thrive.

When light left my windowsill

nightmares argued at the end

of my bed about which terror

would walk across my dreams.

I remember when the night voices

came to the brave side of my pillow,

and led me where shadows

had pretty colors and kind words.

Imagination tended my wounds

until it grew a name on my tongue

to address the tiny saviors who

lived in the valley of invisible.

Pillowkins, I called them Pillowkins,

dream warriors who giggled me

out of the jaws of a demon.

When nightmares clawed

my eyes into hollow,

my tiny army would

lead me to a place of peace

where the moon didn’t bleed

nor the fox stalk my throat

to see if truth was growing

strong enough to expose lies.

 ©Susie Clevenger 2019

#NaPoWriMo2019

 Real Toads ~ The Tuesday Platform