La Petite Mort of Creativity

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Let me bleed out a moment’s release,

from this contemptible inner peace.

 

my tears are too clear of midnight ink,

my thoughts are apathetic and indistinct.

 

I look for omens, cracks in bedroom mirrors,

for owls, magpies - among nests of unfamiliar

 

I churlishly spread my coquettish legs

seducing any passing stranger’s death.

 

To be touched - trembled by fingers of grief,

so I can weave a wanton poetic wreath

 

I call all gods to bring me a sultry storm,

traumas to ride wild into rhythm and form.

 

I hunger for blood of an illicit lover’s return

to break open my heart, leave me spurned,

filling this barren womb with words

that haven’t been born, read, or heard.

 

© Katypoetess 2016

 

deathKatypoetesssex

◄ Immortal Soliloquy

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Comments

Maggie Jacobs

Sun 22nd May 2016 18:51

This is very interesting and mystical poem. I liked it very much; especially the use of vocabulary and rhyming techniques. But overall, I thought it was a marvelous poem.

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Nigel Astell

Mon 9th May 2016 12:46

Words to be born
read with uttermost seduction
poetry that will ravish
body yearning for love
now satisfaction is overflowing
in pure gothic blood.

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Martin Elder

Mon 9th May 2016 12:40

This is lovely Katy but makes me feel it is more a song than a poem. Particularly like the opening line

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