death is a red coquetteon your father’s fossil armits abyss forgotten and ungrievedinto cosseted veins of poetry,but words mean nothing to you; yellow dreams wept in her darkness,and caitiff of mirrored dust, and bone consumedmoon-wept death in the waves andfingertips of black lilliesnulling marrows in epicediumof the bear’s wintered hibernationthe seasons that sail the sea-skullsof … Continue reading I am a ghost to you.
Author: Lucy
"Poetess of darkness"–dVerse community; guitarist; pet hoarder.
My work, credited under my pseudonym Ellie Onka, has appeared in Visual Verse Anthology, VariantLit Magazine, Free Verse Revolution, the Scarlet Leaf Review, and a podcast called "Poetic Slice of Life" among others.
Poets such as Sylvia Plath, Ted Hughes, Lenoard Cohen, and E.E. Cummings are my main sources of poetic inspiration. I hope to one day have them rolling in the grave at my poetry.
At least, I could only hope to evoke such strong reaction.
(!) This Night.
Content Warning/Trigger Warning: This poem is centered around death, particularly the death of a child. summer, pilgrimage of the ewe; the blood sun breaks upon death— is the symmetry of the flower where an ocean throws the moon’s noose, leaving to the knot of a darker azure? dream, and you might too leave in the … Continue reading (!) This Night.
to grief.
bare-bones / wed to abandoning in-uterofingers; the apple burstslike an appendix / and the seabreast to breast / is a mistressto the Kalahari sun/ mouthing /to my moon“death goes to the worms” / alien touch / my love has gone /threnody and dream, as if the Earth is glass /stranded / to the ghosts /of … Continue reading to grief.
her.
Alabaster the dissociatedMoon; a blood-hunt of my dreams,death the psychosis, torment the arbitrarymind, I dreamed of the topples ofthunderbirds, medusa-ing mouths of darkness, and finalhairs of serpents to planetaryshivers; and celestial deathof the stars, they translatethe whiteness of hills,goat-herding anesthesiain the sand-cratered moonswithin the dusty womb of Marsleft me my child-selfand I was her. Written for the dVerse … Continue reading her.
I
I, memory, I, a membrane and ghost meronym to memory and free— I am the thorn of flowers in your mouth, and the foot of the leaf between the limbs of a small tree halved like quarters, and still dying, I, memory, I, a membrane and ghost meronym to memory and free— Ancestress of loss … Continue reading I
earth’s red.
in a ghost of the moon; archaic dreams cross the ocean; idled mind the hawthorn spume and Earth’s red moon, estranged to the headstone fare to ash-heaps and dissociation down the bones of beanstalk and the ghost, the moon, reddened mirrors of ourselves to feet of God, light lies … Continue reading earth’s red.
I drown.
plains of bleeding flowers my dreams, as is, withdraw in catalpa’s mouth, death’s winged ozone, from white to yellow leafy bones a midsummer dream hence the sea of madmen to the locust ghost in a dying sunset mirrored the oeuvre and mind as I dream of the sea as I dream; guilt in eyes lay … Continue reading I drown.
in their dying, in their shadows.
In their dying in their shadows I will see your eyes. As the blood-flow of living things, dear white shells and white bone fall into the ground, mama’s bony fingers whiten the earth, where all else fades and leaves; daddy glissades in the ice picking flowers for us all, and soon they fade and all … Continue reading in their dying, in their shadows.
Ice dark (the world is dreaming).
Lie across the taurobolium at the motherless spring without feeling, without breath; pale mulberries infiltrate the wind in ice dark of obscured dreams by the sea-green void, vanishing by the surf, as the fresh dew slumbers in the whiteness of morning exorcised with twigs of the dying trees. flicker with the nightly, strange sea, the … Continue reading Ice dark (the world is dreaming).
A sea becomes.
Of one memory, one for the end of the dark does not lie, I will not lie in it; darkness perfused I shut the window; here he bleeds, here he lies, though nothing is there. In furrows, mercy, it is laughable. The Earth succinct in waves in a lonely larva the dead poet’s dreams. Stand … Continue reading A sea becomes.
