peeks through the cracks
of the old weathered barn
and freshly baled hay
permeate the warm country air
hoot owl, and swallows
whisper from the
guinea hens scamper ~
to the graceful
you speak in lullabies made of
tamborines, crashing, harmoniously
into the rocky shore of
that one night;
my sand paper scenes and silhouettes,
you painstakingly disintegrate and love.
the layers of this are complex
to the point where we don’t know
where things end and begin.
but your lion heart and hands feel solid
when most things only burn.
my footfalls translate to mileage in the
way that feathers can be lost to a given
amount of wing beats—
each iteration of propulsion will shed
bits of material,
and these are mixed into the sands that are
splashed across beaches, bleached and
eventually broken down into elemental shapes
one of those grains flew and landed on a
boardwalk and then another one
kicked it aside many years ago
by some distant shoreline,
they now lie together in my path—
why i know this is anyone's guess,
but surely the math is in my favor
needless to say, even if my remains withstand
the sands of time there wont be anyone
left to recognize me,
yet i am certain a piece of me will always
be a few steps ahead somewhere,
either washed there from a recent gale,
or maybe blown from the nostrils
of a passing sea gull...
"shoes and feathers"
© 2020 by Seranaea Jones
all rights reserved
A neighbors' barn caught fire
last night, full of newly bailed
hay, lit up the sky with yellow
glow and black smoke,
Many of us came running but
could do little but watch, it was
not a blaze controlled by a well
and a garden hose.
With a twenty minute response
time by our rural volunteer fire
department, having not enough
water in their two pumper trucks
to do much good, it burned for
hours and was a total loss.
In the morning after most everyone
had gone my stoic friend, a man
of 60 years and few words wept,
he had lost his tractor and his beloved
border collie herding dog in the flames,
Molly obviously not able or willing to
abandon her seven newly born pups.
He said, the barn, hay, even the tractor he
could replace, but "never my wonderful
sweet Molly girl."
The day betrays again,
Pallor crawls over my entirety
Mirrors are no longer the truth
Ashen grey swallows the only moon
My blood rejoices
My tainted, traitorous blood!
Cascading through my veins
Fated to this murk,
Shackled to your presence
Fading into a daze, slowly,
As frost singes this dread
This will not be my ruin,
I will decide my own doom
This curse shall be undone!
O Count De Ville
My dagger shall impale your heart!
For the BLT and Thomas W Case challengehttps://hellopoetry.com/poem/3925302/not-a-poem-a-new-challenge/
Mina Harker, female protagonist of the novel- Dracula, along with her friends plots against Dracula. Knowing their plans, Dracula bites Mina three times and also makes her drink his blood as a revenge giving him access to her thoughts and ensuring her fate as a vampire should she die, due to which she switches back and forth between consciousness and a trance-like state. Van Helsing, Dracula's arch-nemesis, uses this link to his advantage by hypnotizing Mina to find and destroy Dracula.
i am suspended
in a space
between what was
and what could be