and thank you
for your song.
I’ve stayed too long
in your furious glow.
If you must know,
I don’t like mirrors,
had my fill
of crescent scars.
Be a good girl now:
spread your amber
Another 44 words for Bjorn’s Quadrille. Come play!
I think the world need faeries … 🙂
The mystic of the amber moon ~ Love the ending lull a bye ~
Love this, de.
Be a good girl, now. So whimsical.
Whenever I leave a comma hanging on its own line, I’m inferring a coma as well. So I presume you’re doing the same. So not only is the speaker saying goodbye to the moon, but also to the coma that the moon induces.
“I don’t like mirrors” says everything. It’s so key to make sure the opening and closing lines of a poem are powerful, but sometimes people miss what I call the “hinge point” or “centerpiece” of the poem. That’s what this is. The speaker is talking to a lover who holds up a mirror, revealing more truth than one might like to see about oneself.
“halflings” = half-flings … It’s all or nothing. And actually, from what I’m hearing, it’s flat-out down to the nothing.
“or spill” = oar spill, or spill, oar’s/oars’ pill … or of course, Sylvia Plath ill 😉 So for me, the speaker is now Ted and he’s talking to his wife, having had enough of her. I presume he’s off to find another woman, even if he hasn’t made the divorce official yet.
It’s also about a werewolf, of course. And the werewolf scene is a metaphor for how she makes him feel, completely addicted and swooning, mesmerized by her song/poetry/presentation/beauty. But still, at some point, you have to wake up from such a love and admit that she’s just too damn crazy to fool with. If you don’t get out at the right time, she will drag you so far down that you may never recover.
Remember that adorable song from Mermaids? “If you wanna be happy for the rest of your life, never make a pretty woman your wife.” I think that applies here.
“of crescent scars” = off cry-sent scares … This makes me think of romantic pain, of course, but also about a pregnancy scare. They already had two children, which had him stuck enough. But to think he was expecting another would have really trapped him. That’s probably what caused this exodus from the relationship.
By the end, I’m even wondering if this is Sylvia talking to herself, as she’s swallowed those pills and is hiding under the house, waiting to die. Lull-a-bye indeed.
Ah, lull a bye! Bravo on your wordplay once again!
cresent scars! love your moon poems.
“spread your amber / wings “…a beauty it is…
LOVE that last line…magical!
Oh I really like the internal rhyme and the syllable breaks in “lull a bye”, slowing it down at the end is icing on the cake!
Human energy comes
and goes.. high and
low.. it swirls
styles iN comma