Reanimated Lavender Granola Switchblade Nun rides again.

Friday, March 13, 2020

The Thing I Couldn't Tell You

I wear black gloves, and in my palm
a white candle burns. The priest wears
a black shirt, and offers the wafer
from a silver ciborium lined with gold.

The magpie is a white bird ashed with black.
In its nest, the thieved medals of saints,
and a tryptich taken from my superstitious lips:
Good morning, Captain. Good morning Sir.

I have thick black hair, and on my breath
is the white lie I tell with the tongue
of a sanctus bell. In my palm,
the icon to whom I neither listen nor pay.

So you see, I am damned by the lie
and by the bird who stole my honest word.
My love is white but ashed with black,
stubborn as a mule with thorny roses on her back.
________

for Sunday Muse #99.



18 comments:

  1. They say a black and white photo will tell you more about the subject than a dozen colored ones, and that's certainly the case here, where black and white weave together a tapestry of contrasts, shadow and light, truth and deception, sacred and profane. Of all the beautiful lines here, perhaps the most luminous pearl on black velvet is this: '...I have thick black hair, and on my breath/is the white lie I tell with the tongue/of a sanctus bell..." and the final stanza tolls the very essence of evensong. As always, the birds speak for you in ways only you can tease out. You take my breath away once again, Shay.

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  2. Wow, your site has changed. You and Joy have a black apple theme going.....the upcoming Muse? Cant wait, given the terrific poems you each posted today. You took my breath away, Shay, especially with the stanza about the sanctus bell. Just wow.

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  3. I meant took my breath away, too, like Joy.

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  4. This is so well done, Shay. Each black and white image takes the reader a further step into the speaker's psyche. I am especially taken by the iconography.

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  5. You always do this to me Shay....put me in awe of your poetry! So many glorious lines and every stanza holds another beautiful morsel to draw me to the next. I adore the different visions of gloves candles and magpies you have brought to life in the lines, giving the image even more depth than when I first looked upon it!

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  6. A really good read for me, Shay, Good Job. I like reading the prompter's write, yours didn't disappoint.
    Of a gracious choice I chose the snippet of the magpie and his trove as I was reminded of the squirrels where we used to play golf. They were brave and would steal from the carts, food had priority but one was found having a cell phone.
    Thank you for the prompt, thank you for reading my entry write.
    ..

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  7. Lies, holy bells, Mass ... all swirling around in my head now.

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  8. "Damn by the lie and the bird that stole my honest word", wow, that is brilliant!

    I read this twice and the thorny roses in the end really capped it off nicely.

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  9. My goodness. The sheer power of wordplay is on full display. Truly cleverly crafted...

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  10. This is already one of my favorites of yours, but then every week I think the same thing.

    "and a tryptich taken from my superstitious lips:
    Good morning, Captain. Good morning Sir."

    That is so f'ing good.

    The whole last stanza, particularly "the bird who stole my honest word"

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  11. The imagery in this captivates. The lines seem to whisper, encouraging me to come closer. Really enjoyed this.

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  12. Each vignette stands alone, and yet together they are marvelous. I join your legion of fans!

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  13. Oooo, all lines are suspenseful prelude to "So you see . . . " That last verse took my breath away. I should look for the magpie's nest myself to find what I couldn't say, where parts of me have gone.

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  14. I traveled word to word in growing awe of your dark weaving and ability to keep me locked into the movement of the poem. Brilliant!

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  15. What an outstanding, vivid poem, Shay. It spiraled in black and white.

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  16. My love is white but ashed with black,
    stubborn as a mule with thorny roses on her back.

    A very good close Shay and great word craft throughout your poem!

    Hank

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  17. "... the white lie I tell with the tongue
    of a sanctus bell." What an image, and what a line.

    This poem is full of gems.

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  18. Awesome lines! Sorry I'm late better than never.

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Spirit, what do you wish to tell us?