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Marye Minstrel Sep 2017
My muses, beloved tortures, gone!
Stolen, or withered away.
With them has wandered my lexicon
Of mem’rable things to say.

How now, sweet demons? You leave behind
Your hatefulest loyal slave.
Please it your graces, how shall she find
The burning that once you gave?

What’s this? You grant me a grievance yet?
Oh, gracious, wonderful, cruel!
Torment me, my choice is set
To live for this poison, your tool.

Face me, Last Muse! O, sorrowful name,
I write thus at your behest!
My final divine inspiration;
The absence of all the rest.
Marye Minstrel Aug 2017
The brink, the edge, the verge
A blink, a step, an urge
Teeter-totter, drum kick
A heartbeat, think quick
Life's a puzzle, death's a riddle
Here I hover, in the middle

The verge, the edge, the brink
An urge, a step, I blink
Teeter-totter, heart rasp
A drum kick, quick gasp
Breathing, breathless; sobbing, voice-crack
Inhale - exhale, inhale - I'm back.
Marye Minstrel Aug 2017
Frankincense, hot cloves
Smoky perfume, like alcohol, gasped
Smooth, heavy, an intangible gravity kissed onto eyelashes
Covers and spices in flower, alive
Gasp after gasp of sweet tropic smoke
Eyelashes fluttering, started birds returning
A haze as purple as blood, or nightingales, or blood.
This poem was written to illustrate a structural fixed form I invented myself.
Marye Minstrel Aug 2017
Spreading darkly from within
A cloud filled my breast
And slowly pulling me in
Ground me into the dust, depressed

On the dead earth below me
A dripping black hand
Struggled fiercely up to free
The shadows of the demon band

Others nearby glanced my way
Smiled at me, or cursed
With a venomous red spray
Fed my dark and demon-made thirst

Looking behind them I saw
On great poison wings
Creatures, crimson mouths all raw
From speaking unspeakable things

If we had courage to boast
Allied, we could beat
The hellspawned, bloodthirsty ghosts
That hungrily follow our feet

The other side of the coin
Fearing the unknown
No one dares to join
We each have demons of our own
Marye Minstrel Aug 2017
This wall is for drawing
No writing allowed
No tags from the gangs
That wander this town

No poems, graffiti
Just sketching is all
Poorly drawn things are
Erased from this wall

The art of a child’s
An ugly scrawl
No verbal expression
Be glad you may draw

This wall shall become
A great work of art
But none of these drawings
Will come from the heart
Marye Minstrel Aug 2017
It seemed I looked on a world all round
Where Hell with mortals heartlessly toyed
I turned away for I had found
The Chaos globed dark amidst the void

I stood watching the sky disappear
And writhing Terror coiled and bound
I knew it was there since I could hear
A deafening Silence full of sound

The starlight burned out, lost in the deep
Yet I remembered always my name
Though the world was dead I would not weep
Triumph is what the Dark cannot claim
Marye Minstrel Jul 2017
Hardened glue is in my brain
Stickily I play the game
Happy faces cause my pain
Gleeful as I rise to fame
Captured since they know my name

Tears in eyes slowly misting
I discover they are mine
All my dreams they are twisting
Throwing pearls before the swine
Stepping out, I toe the line

No, I won’t, not any more
Throw my talents to the ground
Calmly walking out the door
Heart is suddenly unbound
Swimming bravely to the shore
Feet are firmly on the floor
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