I am very honored to have my poem. The Orchard" featured as co-winner of this month's competition. The writers in these competitions including this one, Ryan, Patrick, Shane and d'orge Lena are outstanding and creatively diverse. It's always a pleasure to see what ekprastic or thematic prompt leads each different contest. Thankyou so much -- Jai -Michelle and Saraswati for this honor and for giving all of us the opportunity to share our work at The Winged Moon;s Kin Magazine.
I find "What Never Rooted" fascinating. Sometimes, in the underground of our own conscience as well as the earth itself, there is the dark thought, dream, macabre matter that never took root but still haunts that netherworld region. And though rootless, it still can bloom through an old wound or fear. It calls out and ripens in the darkness of our own mind or the earth's own soil. This poem is intense and expresses that phenomenon for me. These lines really haunt with a visercal intensity, both beautiful and raw.
"and old wounds reopen across the garden.
Drifting shadows pause. And still—the bloom.
The one you were told
would never strike, never stir,
never bleed again—
is here now, in this Stygian theatre,
rooted in ruin
and calling out
to something
that dares
to answer."
In "Dark Seeds", I think of the book of dead history waiting to be opened and resdscovered. All of its pain, dark secrets and turmoil waiting to take root in both the land where something once occurred and the mind of the observer and the reader. Descriptive and eloquently phrased, this poem is beautifully constructed with its vivid language and rhythm.
"Dark seeds whisper poems under subterranean skies.
Roots extending neural paths enrich the meadow’s mind.
Every tree’s a ghost now, each plot of land a grave.
Standing by a fresh mound to place a dead bouquet,
a hand emerges like a tulip - fingers all unfold "
waiting to be lifted, back into this world."
"In Luminous Girl Lullabye", I love the richness of language and the progression from ruin to hope. The opening sets the perfect, macabare tone with its "carbonized city" and "sunless hole" On feels the doom of such a place until the bloom of something golden and ripe. The rebirth of life and the ability to reimagine something strong and vibrant. These lines capture that thought with memorable and tangible imagery.
" marked by the skull
of the far flame of being a mother. a rotten rose
shows me the way to a plump egg,
cracked already, thus empty. i lick the lush juice
of a seed bending over the emerald
hope blossoming inside me. i see my hand planted
to grow a golden girl, her first words
will rename what is lost now, rework a new language
of gleam against gloom. ash will mean..."
In , "The Pale After Midnight", the title ,itself , had me hooked and the opening lines were stunning with its ghostly and elegant image!
"I could have sworn it was you
veiled like marble silk
whispering through the dust"
Throughout the rest of the poem -- I could feel the narrator's desperate sense of wondering; and the dark pulse of speculation leading to these beautiful and surreal lines --
midnight staring at the acid
drying in the shape of wings.
The fire you set, the bed
you laid me upon, and on the porch
I saw you dead and dancing,
it was the most beautiful thing
I have ever seen.
I enjoyed this week's selection of poems immensely.
I am very honored to have my poem. The Orchard" featured as co-winner of this month's competition. The writers in these competitions including this one, Ryan, Patrick, Shane and d'orge Lena are outstanding and creatively diverse. It's always a pleasure to see what ekprastic or thematic prompt leads each different contest. Thankyou so much -- Jai -Michelle and Saraswati for this honor and for giving all of us the opportunity to share our work at The Winged Moon;s Kin Magazine.
My best
Wendy Howe
I find "What Never Rooted" fascinating. Sometimes, in the underground of our own conscience as well as the earth itself, there is the dark thought, dream, macabre matter that never took root but still haunts that netherworld region. And though rootless, it still can bloom through an old wound or fear. It calls out and ripens in the darkness of our own mind or the earth's own soil. This poem is intense and expresses that phenomenon for me. These lines really haunt with a visercal intensity, both beautiful and raw.
"and old wounds reopen across the garden.
Drifting shadows pause. And still—the bloom.
The one you were told
would never strike, never stir,
never bleed again—
is here now, in this Stygian theatre,
rooted in ruin
and calling out
to something
that dares
to answer."
In "Dark Seeds", I think of the book of dead history waiting to be opened and resdscovered. All of its pain, dark secrets and turmoil waiting to take root in both the land where something once occurred and the mind of the observer and the reader. Descriptive and eloquently phrased, this poem is beautifully constructed with its vivid language and rhythm.
"Dark seeds whisper poems under subterranean skies.
Roots extending neural paths enrich the meadow’s mind.
Every tree’s a ghost now, each plot of land a grave.
Standing by a fresh mound to place a dead bouquet,
a hand emerges like a tulip - fingers all unfold "
waiting to be lifted, back into this world."
"In Luminous Girl Lullabye", I love the richness of language and the progression from ruin to hope. The opening sets the perfect, macabare tone with its "carbonized city" and "sunless hole" On feels the doom of such a place until the bloom of something golden and ripe. The rebirth of life and the ability to reimagine something strong and vibrant. These lines capture that thought with memorable and tangible imagery.
" marked by the skull
of the far flame of being a mother. a rotten rose
shows me the way to a plump egg,
cracked already, thus empty. i lick the lush juice
of a seed bending over the emerald
hope blossoming inside me. i see my hand planted
to grow a golden girl, her first words
will rename what is lost now, rework a new language
of gleam against gloom. ash will mean..."
In , "The Pale After Midnight", the title ,itself , had me hooked and the opening lines were stunning with its ghostly and elegant image!
"I could have sworn it was you
veiled like marble silk
whispering through the dust"
Throughout the rest of the poem -- I could feel the narrator's desperate sense of wondering; and the dark pulse of speculation leading to these beautiful and surreal lines --
midnight staring at the acid
drying in the shape of wings.
The fire you set, the bed
you laid me upon, and on the porch
I saw you dead and dancing,
it was the most beautiful thing
I have ever seen.
I enjoyed this week's selection of poems immensely.
Thank you everyone !
Best
Wendy
whispering through the dust."
Thank you very much Wendy for the kind words! I love your poem too, and everyone else’s as well. An honour to be in such fine company.
Ryan 😊
Hi Ryan
Thank you for reading my poem. I am so glad you liked it and appreicate your kind words.
Best
Wendy