Tarts

Restlessness picks at me like an angry pigeon.
I try to appease it with books
But the Restlessness tears out favorite passages
To use as nesting;
That won't do. 
I offer it some music, 
But after a quick jig or two
It's back to plucking impatience from me.
I throw a dvd at Restlessness's head
But it ducks, too fast for me.
Won't someone distract my distraction?
It's driving me to abstraction!
And bad poetry.

rb begs your forgiveness, but it couldn't be helped.

1-5-08

  Delirium topic: "the scent of Death"

The scent of death is cloying and familiar now
Like an inescapable thought
My nostrils flare and burn with the corruption of your demise
Your ash burns my eyes, and stains me grey with guilt.
My tears carve furrows down my dirty cheeks
On my knees, I claw at the scorched earth
My fingertips raw, raking against certainty.
A silver talisman against vengeful spirits bounces on my breast
Flesh covering over a heart so scarred with loss and shame
It was your choice but I carry the blame.
Now nothing can restore what once was.
Divine in the finality of your selfish, loveless act.
I bring fistfulls of ash to my chest and cling desperately
My bloodstained soul shrivels within me
Your ashes choke in my screaming throat- I am as dead as you.
In this, we can be one.

12/29/2007  
quills: Kecky, Scarlet, and Machiavellina

Clink of spoon raising odors of delirious bliss,
This tea-spun web is a siren song rendezvous.
A tryst of heady fragrances and subtle blossoms.
And something more intangible, 
A melding of spirit and serenity.
Warm eddies of wind drift through the shadow world.
A memory floats to the surface of the cup
And breathes a single syllable, a name. 
The name itself is not important- for what name ever is?
But the memory of the name- the sudden raw sensation,
And dormant wounds reopen to take in air.
Then sudden as it appears, everything evaporates.
Steam in frozen air, 
Leaving clarity in its wake
I blink twice and sigh, raising the cup to pursed lips.
This calming ritual purges my ghosts.
Forsaking guilt, I'm exorcised.

December 27, 2007 
penned by Becky, Dawn, Kat, and Vanessa

Okay, so the tarts wanted me to post my fiery poem on Strumpets. Well...who am I to refuse? XD Here it is, in all requisite glory.

Meh...it's not my favorite ever, but I promised I'd post it, so here it is, color-coded, for your convenience. :) I don't know if it's just not quite *done* or if we just didn't know where to go with it, with all that other greatness going on at the same time, but it's still lacking in some way. Ah, well...it was a night to kick off the rust and get to writing again. So...what shall I call it? I know...

Two

A spark at the heart, a frozen flame,
This half-starved moment explodes across my senses,
Shaking me from my crystal tower, plunging me headlong into ecstasy,
Sharp and painful at first-a headlong dive into cold spring water.
My world defined within the bounds of one stark moment,
Eyes of enticing passion sear through my vision,
Electricity skips up my spine and down my arms,
Though I long to articulate this, words have failed me utterly,
And in the space between two beats, I'm captured in the prison of your eyes.
Time ceases as I fall into your arms.

Vanessa    Becky   Dawn   Kat

The altar was made of onyx marble, it chilled her arms through her silken sleeves.  Her head bowed, her posture radiated pious reverence.  Beneath the curtain of her hair, she smirked wickedly.  She listened to quiet footfalls echoing all around her, waiting for the moment that she could be alone, when she could put her plans into action. 

Her senses attuned to the smallest sound, she waits, lungs aching, knuckles pressing against the cold stone.  Without a sound, she slips one hand down along the edge of the altar and releases the catch, her breath, bursting out in a rush of heat.  Slipping silently beneath the heavy stone, her feet found the hidden staircase.  As the altar slid back into place, she whispered the words that would bring light to her journey.  The mischievous glint in her eyes sparked from the new flame before her as she dashed through the secret corridor.

The sister’s habit clung to her ankles as she ran.  A sound ahead of rushing water slowed her pace, she braced herself against the cold moss wall and waited.   Stone against stone, then a splash as something hit the water.  Her heart was pounding, caught in her throat. She felt the cold seeping into her from the wall, yet it was oddly invigorating.  Excitement lent a lovely clarity to everything, including the sound of oars in the water.

As she spied the bow of her rescuer’s boat slicing through the inky waters- she plunged her hands into the icy waters.  Gripping the edge of her habit, and lifting it over her head, she bared herself to destiny.  As the edge of the vessel came parallel to her perch, she flung herself into the waiting arms of her virulent lover.  Knowing the swift and hidden stream would pull them out to the sea of its own accord, they sunk to the bottom of the sloop and made fast business of further sullying their souls ‘neath the abandoned robes of a monk’s habiliments.

 

Wrapped in the darkness of your tresses, I feel my body settle against your body's planes. The warmth of your breath across my temple lulls me into sweet repose. It is your arms, your large hands, I long to feel. The pulse of your flaming blood beneath the cold and paleness of your immortal flesh. Your long hair frames the image of our union.
Immortal touch so savage in its glorious destruction. With one word from your honeyed tongue, both heart and body were at your whim. Sweet control is yours to do what you will. 
"Master," I touch my finger to lips, closing my eyes, I imagine your lips here against me. I sway under this conjured image, a sweet fragrance intoxicates me. 
Heady with the smoke of your passing, I fall back against the pyre as your flames consume me. Your tantalizing touch burns to my core and I cry out with shock and pleasure. 
The caress of one finger along my jaw causes my heart to stutter. My lip quivers as I feel my resolve wash away with my tranquility. I'm electric in your embrace.
I am raptured, beyond the smell of wood and flesh. Naught of this world torments me. Its fire burns away the ropes, my soul pulses free. It tugs once, and I smell burning hair, but the second tug sends me adrift. You catch my weightlessness, your touch melts away my scars, and I am as we were, so long ago, beautiful and beyond harm. 
The violence in your eyes tears through me. I cling to your shoulders as you ravage my senses. Your hunger pulses and sharp points pierce my tender neck. 
At last I've come home. 

From the quills of Bawdy, Saucy, and Cheeky.
 

When in the midst of darkness I lift my eyes heavenward to see the stars and glimpse only the shallow ceiling of my own intent, I am drawn to the bygone tales of mystery and dark promise. I long to fill my cup with the midnight draught of another's perceptions. 
In short-- tonight I dream.
The beckonings of long-forgotten woes are the sup of my table. In pining, I perish from the unrequited restoration of my soul--bequeathed and unsung beneath the treacherous moon. 
I bathe in lunar light as I sleep. My dreams bring me to your doorstep.
It is there that I repine and bid my slumbers cease. The fruit I used to taste of your desire left me always searching for its source. I long to inhabit your chambers again and end this mortal's wandering quest.
No mortal sacrifice is worth the risk of my heart; its journey too exultant in its thrums. I doubt not my heart's savior, and genuflect at his behest. 
As a young girl, I built a shrine of sorts for you, under a weeping willow. Secreted under its generous curtain, I hid the trinkets you brought from your travels; (the Spanish doll), a silver compass, and an olive branch. The branch still holds the sweet olive smell.
I used to clasp my treasures to my breast and teach my soul to know the tempo of your heart. Beneath the faultless moon I hung the curtain of my hair about my face. I bathed in limpid pools of ice and cloud. I would scour the heaviness from my body as I sewed your memory into the chambers of my heart.

From the quills of Bawdy, Saucy, and Cheeky

Into the tea leaves I whisper your name,
The pooling essence blows back a kiss of scent.
The cold grey world before you seems the same-
Your grim composure, hard as flint.

I offer up a hand, upturned before you-
You kiss my pulse with lips and breathy sigh.
The leaves fall between my fingers, released and unfettered;
In this cold world, there’s only you and I.


Pens: Cheeky, Bawdy, and Saucy

Dusk had changed the mood in the garden, what was dull and pastel had transformed into ghostly translucence.  Elana dipped her fingers into the liquid gold water of a long deceased fountain and she waited…

As her fingers frolicked absentmindedly in the cool stream, her mind began to wander the familiar paths of thought she had traversed so frequently these past days.

The fragile shroud of pale evensong corrupted the tide of emotion threatening to swell over me- to wash away the pitiful façade of somnolence.

I watched Elana from my shadows, her warmth radiated in ever gesture.  Would she come to my cold world?

The taste of bitterness welled within my mouth as I cursed the paltry life that I could offer her.  Why would she step beneath the bower’s edge and give herself to me?  With what wonders could I dare to tempt her?  Damn the ghost of my existence.

I feel the shadows deepen- cloying tight around me in my despair.  Elana- beauty bright and gold- too much to bear in my weary twilight world.

She sits quietly , all of evening holds its breath.  Do I, a demon by nature, deny myself this one piece of my soul or do I embrace her?  Will she be the same rose in this cold?  Even as I watch her fold her arms beneath her head, completely unaware of her imminent peril, and sighs in her sleep… she calls me, her dark stranger, shadow in her childhood, lover in her dreams.