Thursday, June 23, 2016

Sunday's Murder of Crows by Mimi Wolske

I know; this is sooo 2010, but here's a Throwback Thursday Poem from 2014

©Sunday’s Murder of Crows
Mimi Wolske
Mimi Wolske - Mona Arizona™
October 2014
All Rights Reserved

sometimes, more often than not,
I wake wondering Am I a vampire?
metallic taste--more than one spot--
covers my teeth; they require
a sweeping tongue, long on spittle,
short on the blood it can taste.
teeth clenched, they’re almost brittle.
it’s what I do at night, lay in waste
and nightmares of you alone,
in Mexico without me,
a murder of crows after your bone
and you cry for me as them you flee.

Tuesday, June 21, 2016

If you cock your head left a little, you will see the world through your favorite color. Cock it a little to the right and suddenly words spill from you to hypnotize others. That's creativity and it is you at your best.

Mimi Wolske
All Rights Reserved

’Twas the season of the thawed, frostbitten
pen and brush and a mad woman’s long-kept
secret in the attic of her temple that began with
words and hues losing power because they
were never spoken for ears to hear nor
brought into the light for eyes to see.

She danced around in a half-hidden war zone
on the edge of the universe worried whether
a room crowded with critics would or could
appreciate the life and love she breathed into
her children left hanging on bland walls and
bound in inked pulp to be plucked from tabletops.

(art: American artist Michael Volpicelli creates detailed portraits of people and animals out of written words related to them.)