Reanimated Lavender Granola Switchblade Nun rides again.

Sunday, August 16, 2015

Temporis Circulum Frustra

In a suitcase--your bones--
scored and yellow--
under the bed.

In fact--and in spite--
not destroyed--
not dead.

You visit me in dreams, in Winter--
Winter always--
down a frozen well.

Come to this--come to take me--
by the hand--
into Hell. 

for Real Toads mini-challenge.


  1. Your current love affair with rhyme proceeds on its devastatingly effective (and beautiful) course here with a stark and eloquent skeletal hand--minimalism is not a tool you often use, yet no one does it better, and reading this is like feeling the chill on your neck of an old nightmare. That first stanza--'in fact--and in spite--dear me!

  2. This is like a concentrate - the essence of a nightmare. Undead bones under the bed is like the monsters of our childhood grown adult.

  3. Even if ghosts do not exist, we are haunted by them anyways.

  4. The close hits here like a hammer--with the poem as its anvil--the starkness and simplicity of the whole thing adds to its strength. Chilling in all ways. Thanks for participating, Shay. k.

  5. Wow - that's some opening line. I have to admit, there's someone whose bones I'd like to reside in a suitcase under my bed. Well, sort of. But I digress. Really powerful poetry, Shay.

  6. On one hand, I think this is about someone you've loved (in an unhealthy way), who manages to lure you back in, time and time again. (The vain circle of time; something like that. Or time circles in vain. You'd have to tell me the precise translation.) There's a coldness in her touch, but you still can't resist it. And the irony is that something as cold as winter, and the frozen water in a well, could lead you toward the heat of hell. Hell certainly represents suffering and torture, but also lust and fire/passion. Sometimes the former is worth enduring if it gets you to the latter.

    double meaning in "scored" and "bones" ... and "spite" actually

    Oh yes ... on the other hand, you're talking to Time itself, circling you, draining away your youth, taunting you from under the bed, as it waits to take your head below the coffins.

    Then your tags offer another likelihood: that your mother's essence still tortures you, no matter how much time and distance you put between you and her.

  7. Ghosts sit by my bedside...or at least at times it feels like they are there with their suitcases of haunting memories.

  8. Wonderfully chilling, especially the visit in winter down the well.

  9. Wow! Wasn't expecting that last line, FB. Yes - chilling.

  10. You're another one of those massively gifted women who write more effectively, economically and evocatively than I. You and Mama Zen - I'm proud to be your readers and friggin' jealous of your talent. Still trying to connect. Mosk

  11. "in Winter....Winter always".....the repetition of that just adds to this chilling piece!

  12. Yikes! :-( ...well written verse...

  13. so powerful and intense and stunning, Shay!

    i sincerely hope your dreams aren't visited by your mother in the way my mother inhabits my nightmares.


Spirit, what do you wish to tell us?