All Things Ossify

a cauldron of anger bubbles inside
day after day, she swallows it down
in the wreckage of her heart, all things ossify

she is more than just dissatisfied
it shows in her bitter, black frown
a cauldron of anger bubbles inside

once upon a time, she was a happy bride
now, there’s no love nor respect to be found
in the wreckage of her heart, all things ossify

gentle emotions wash out with the tide
on foamy waves of dirty, blighted brown
a cauldron of anger bubbles inside

she has nothing left save for stubborn pride
life has been such a colossal letdown
in the wreckage of her heart, all things ossify

‘tween what is and what should be lies a great divide
so what the hell, let’s send in the clowns—
a cauldron of anger bubbles inside
in the wreckage of her heart, all things ossify

©2022 July Day

villanelle

Image by Enrique Meseguer from Pixabay

(Family issues will be an ongoing thing–for how long, I don’t know–so my posting and reading blogs here on WordPress will be sporadic. I hope for better times ahead.)

Booby Hatch

Sophie played with fire, torched a blackberry patch
to smoke out the vile Rat who hid there by day
after haunting her nights in the Booby Hatch.
Booby Hatch—that’s what she called the town of gray,
hidden in thorny brambles that snatched and scratched,
laying at the heart of her dreamtimes’ forays.
The residents there were as mad as March hares;
she had to kill Rat, or forever live there.

When the cold sun rode high, and the Rat laid low,
Sophie came prepared with matches and sharp knife.
Her bare feet left tracks in the white, crusted snow,
from the house of Father and his second wife—
not her mother, the jealous, usurper Zo.
A witch, the girl knew, whose resentment ran rife.
Heavy with child, the witch wanted Sophie gone,
so it would be Zo, baby, and father, John.

When the bare, spiney briars had burned to the ground,
no smoldering city, no black, smoking forms,
no charred bones, nor single tooth was to be found—
just puddles of water, like after a storm.
The witch had tricked her, had moved the gray town,
but Sophie’s sharp eyes discerned cuneiforms
in the few, singed sticks that had escaped the fire,
derived their intendment, knew what was required.

Back to the fine house where once she’d been happy,
before Mother had died and Zo took her place.
Zo turned Father into a slack-jawed zombie
who only saw Zo’s wicked, beautiful face.
No longer was Sophie his cherished sweetie;
his love for her Zo banished, leaving no trace.
Nightly, Sophie heard his licentious plea:
“Please come to bed, Wife, so I can play with thee.”

She opened the kitchen door, the witch stood there;
But Sophie saw past pretty Zo’s conjured spell—
saw Rat stirring the pot, she said a quick prayer.
Rat turned, and her shocked, perfidious face fell.
Today was the day to set everything square,
dispatch Zo and her spawn to the fires of hell.
With a frenzied grin that lit up her green eyes,
she slashed Zo’s fat stomach—watched witch and babe die.

©2022July Day

Ottava Rima

Image by bayram aksu from Pixabay

I Look Down

from my window
I look down, look down
at the iniquitous world spread out below me
I look down, look down
I see foul, curst creatures, but they don’t see me

from my room
I look down, look down
into the caliginous night steeped in midnight tea
I look down, look down
I see ravenous malignancy, but it doesn’t see me

from my prison
I look down, look down
at a haunting of ghosts, ghouls, and monstrous afreets
I look down, look down
I see all things vile and evil…and pray they don’t see me.

©2018/2022 July Day

free verse

Image from iStock

Crow




crow comes at night

one with the darkness

slips in the window

while she sleeps

burrows its sharp beak

into her seasoned flesh

and tears at

the most tender morsels...



doubts

insecurities

fears

savors the sour flavors

of being hurt

of being fooled

of being played

again...



she learns not to sleep

stays ever vigilant

least crow

swallow everything

her pride

her independence

her reason

her life...



in the morning light

sometimes she wonders

if crow is real

is a force without

or instead

lives within

a black cancer

of bone and blood…



cawing chaos, while

beating sharp wings

within each breath

claws scraping

through fragile capillaries

frantic to escape

its self-made

prison...

©️2019 July Day



Free verse

Image by davidfoxx from Pixabay

The Unknown

Galaxies beguile and beckon,
Mouths of black holes yawn.
I face the unknown, bent of body, but bright of mind,
Not fearing the coming dawn

Of old age that comes
To all stars, planets, and man.
I face the unknown, time sifting through my fingers
Like grains of silvered sand.

©2017 July Day

Image by Florian Steinberger from Pixabay

Glide

Gilded clouds glide, passing me by.

Dream-ships sailing darkening sky,

Steering toward a distant place

Not found by maps, but by grace.

Do they hear my sorrowful sigh?



I watch their fleet, tears in my eyes—

Oh, how I wish that I could fly,

My lonely eagle soul, embrace.

Gilded clouds glide.



In their wispy hearts, I descry,

I’m not worthy of a Shanghai,

Not worthy to share their blest space.

Passing from sight, leaving no trace,

They whisper on the wind…goodbye.

Gilded clouds glide.



©️2022 July Day



rondeau

Written for Moonwashed Weekly Challange–Gilded: https://amanpan.blog/2022/09/06/moonwashed-challenge-gilded-september-6-2022/

Image by Claudio Kirner from Pixabay

Boogeyman Dreams

A murder of crows takes flight,
Cawing their insanity into the abyss of the night.
They wake the monster of madness; it rears its bristly head.
“Be not afraid,” gods whisper as you lie in your panicked bed.
“For we are here, we are with you, we are the light.”
Just a child, alone, you tremble in fright,
Too little to ward off things only heard, not seen—
While under your bed, the boogeyman dreams.

©2017, 2022 July Day

Image by Stefan Keller from Pixabay

Unmourned

The city sleeps—

Above,

stars are born.

Die.



Love and stars,

die alone…

unmourned.



©️2022 July Day



Septolet

Image my own watercolor painting.

My poem was inspired by David’s Septolet at The Skeptics Kaddish.

Red

Dark woods, deep woods, deathly woods,

Through them I rush-race-run.

Moon glows, moon shows, moon knows,

Soon I will be done.



Bog sucks, bog slurps, bog swallows,

Stealing the boots from my feet.

Briars snatch, briars catch, briars latch,

Determined we shall meet.



Water utters, water mutters, water blubbers,

Through rimed wetness, I sloggishly go.

Rocks thrash, rocks slash, rocks gash,

Riving cracks into my soul.



Solid dirt, cold dirt, stinging dirt,

Toes digging in, I stagger up a knoll.

Trees shadow, trees shelter, trees shield—

Or so I have been told.



Wolves prowl, wolves howl, wolves growl,

Form a menacing circle round me.

Darkling eyes, devil eyes, demon eyes,

But only one will claim me.



Teeth show, teeth smile, teeth sink

Dagger fangs above my breast.

My master’s kiss, my lover’s kiss, my mate's kiss

Weeps river-red upon my chest.



Dark woods, deep woods, deathly woods,

Through them I rush-race-run.

Moon glows, moon shows, moon knows,

My life has just begun.



©2017 July Day

Image via iStock

Drama Queens

sun splays
atop mountain
looks down on gloomy sea
blue waves slam against soul’s nadir
rocks weep

©2022 July Day

American cinquain

Written for Moonwashed Weekly Challenge—Dramatic: https://amanpan.com/2022/07/26/moon-washed-weekly-challenge-dramatic-july-26-2022/

Image by Thomas Whitaker from Pixabay

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