Writing Prompt #134 “Collage 11″ and Wordle #86

Collage 11

Loving her is a kind of madness,

She keeps spiders instead of parakeets,

Each with a fine rainbow hat

And a smattering of ambivalent eyes.

In her pockets she shelters chameleons

Smaller than thumb prints,

In glaring Mediterranean palettes.

The sun emerges

Behind a clutch

Of gesticulating cypress

Ruffled by the musings

Of a lapis lazuli wind

My heart only a stone’s throw

From where she stoops

Gathering flowers

In bushels and wreathes.

She is not the coffin

I envisioned when I first crawled inside,

Ringside and hypothetical

I lap the serum from her hands,

Thus condemning myself

To a life free of obsolescence,

A life steeped in wine and ink.

When I’m waist deep in brimstone,

Sucking mawkwish fumes from a banded straw

I like to envision her in a red dress

Her hair toppling in acrobatic curls

Lit only by poignant stems of moonlight.

I sift through her books

Her diaries, the little drawer

Where she keeps tube after tube

Of pumice green mascara.

She is my enabler, my strength

The object of all my obscure attachments.

Her body strays

In a bed with too many layers.

I drink her, breath by breath

Until there’s no air between us.

Week 86

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33 responses to “Writing Prompt #134 “Collage 11″ and Wordle #86

  1. I like to envision her in a red dress
    Her hair toppling in acrobatic curls
    Lit only by poignant stems of moonlight.

    oh the poetry of the words so carefully construed in an imagination brimming full and running free …. simply gorgeous Yves!

    really amazing use of both the collage and the wordle …. you have danced in the swirling colours and emerged accomplished 🙂

  2. This is one of your best poems, Yves (for me at least). Every line is quotable – a poem in itself. Bravo!

  3. I like to envision her in a red dress
    Her hair toppling in acrobatic curls
    Lit only by poignant stems of moonlight.

    This is such a sensuous image of a lady with some ruffled hair lit by the moonlight. Perfect pic Yves!

    Hank
    PS Are Yves, Amber and MLMM one and the same person. Hank may not return comments to the right person when signed off as ‘mindlovemisery’ Tq

    • Wow thanks Hank!

      My pen name is Yves K. Morrow (aka Yves) my blog names are mindlovemisery and Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie but many people refer to me as mindlovemisery. Amber is the name associated with my Google Account and in order to comment to Blogger I have to use my Google Account (WordPress is not compatible with Blogger). Amber isn’t my real name though, there is something wrong with my Google Account and I am unable to change the name associated with it. Phew so if you want to call me something Yves works haha

  4. ‘She is not the coffin
    I envisioned when I first crawled inside,’

    Somehow these lines struck me – hearing this week of the death of two older women. One a relative I never remember meeting. I can only wonder how their lives played out. One old enough, and the other too young. And the people that loved them hoping for just a little bit more time.

    Thanks for enjoying the latest ‘BeeBee’ I have two word lists waiting in the wings. And depending on my mood there may be another mystery… or not. 😉

  5. I’m crazy about this poem!!! I read it as being about being smitten with an older mentor, a sort of second mother. This comes from the part about crawling inside her. This is the sort of mother you choose.

    These are my faves:

    “She keeps spiders instead of parakeets,
    Each with a fine rainbow hat
    And a smattering of ambivalent eyes.
    In her pockets she shelters chameleons
    Smaller than thumb prints”

    “Ringside and hypothetical
    I lap the serum from her hands”

    “Her hair toppling in acrobatic curls
    Lit only by poignant stems of moonlight.” (I think she’d wear a black dress, though)

  6. A marvellous poem, I really really really enjoyed the lenght of it and I wanted it to go on and on, but I think you wrote a very breathtaking ending to it.

  7. Probably your best to date. Great poem about a mysterious woman who has made an impression on you and all of us. Anyone who wears pumice green mascara is worthy of a poem:)

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