50 Words For Poe: Camera Obscura
"50 Words for Poe: camera obscura"
The Night Flower
turns in her bed
in a dark room
stories of wraiths
like flies buzzing in her head
and blood-sucking bugs that bite
Rippers and lovers dead
come to collect her from her
ornery black-balled plight
The box is closed it would seem, tight.
She returns to her Chronovisor,
a mind, tincture of absinthe blind
she dreams to sleep awake through time . . .
Blue was she
very blue
the result of
Amorous Congress
with Mr New
Rosebud was wearing
a hue of crushed
Camisole Pink crinoline
while off to Bedfordshire
in the gloaming
Mr New tipped
her blushing pink
all fresh & velvet green
Somewhere between 1 & 2
She found herself
in the Lake
between
the whorey frost of
Heaven & Hell
all blue all blue
our blue faerie
not Green,
Fey Blue
This happens
when the beast with two backs
doesn't dance well and
The Wolf
is let loose
out of his
cage in the zoo
Blue was she
very blue
a shade of New's
best of best blue
though like a watercolour
that bleeds off the canvas
pale ghost white
opalescence
becomes her,
he considers,
as red fox hidden watches on
the fox is silent it is out of view
Her mind drifts off
like she’s with
The Other
dancing in a dream not blue
there’s that certain something
in his voice that numbs her
in his eyes that come, undone her,
she blinks once
for now he is seen cold
He is New
Eyes open wide
fixated just so
frozen in that moment
impossible to close
staring through crystal
the cold ice is pure not stained
a flurry of pretty snowflakes
wasted confetti all above her
it begins to rain
Mr New smiles at her
like he has a mouthful of Sugar
and considers she resembles
a drifting white swan feather
gracefully 'off'
blue green reeds
tangled in her hair
all about her they sway
she bleeds he stares
Mr New's smile is disarming and delayed
calmly he turns his back on her and walks away
Somewhere on the Other Side
It is a brand New day...
(LadyLabyrinth/2019)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IjX8xfZ7sg0
Elysian Fields/Lady in the Lake
camera obscura/ latin. dark room
“Now sleeps the crimson petal, now the white;
Nor waves the cypress in the palace walk;
Nor winks the fold fin in the prophyry front
The fire-fly wakens: waken thou with me.
Now droops the milk white peacock like a ghost
And like a ghost she glimmers on to me"
Copyright © Lady Labyrinth | Year Posted 2019
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