In a dying eye a crescent slowly grows
‘til lifeless sockets spill
with dead milk.
Shining whiter than the moon
white globes
as if mother at the last
gave child its fill.
Author notes
i am not cheating but this is a very scantily edited prewrite that i thought i would enter just for the sake of it... thought that it would fit right in with the subject.
A contest entry
- white by Cat.
2200 points, ended December 9, 2008, 23 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
enjoy
Comments
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this makes me sad.. i see
such loss in the face of this poem
i don't think it is based on truth though.. but if it is.. ahhh..
glad to find you here
m
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is actually bitterly inspired, an observationof/reaction to the relationship between my abusive ex and his ever-present overbearing mother... not that you can tell what it is about, it an abstract piece... perhaps i was imagining her breast-feeding him until he died, or into thier old age.... i can't say only to say that it is an oedipal piece, as well as witchy and bitter.
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Stealing away my icy blood
pale leaves my gasping breath an inch from frozen death.
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this is almost halloweenish to me-- maybe it just reminds me of a twisted harvest moon more than anything. I liked the idea behind 'dead milk'
very interesting take on the prompt! Thank you for taking the time to enter our contest
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