Darkest of Confessions
Voices in my head
Dancing abreast with the abstract
Shattered glasses and shattered dreams
History repeats many a lovers’ defeat
I demand a duel
With my heart
I welcome the sword that shall draw first blood
Ending the torment of duel nationalities
Kissing lovers and slaying love
The ménage a trois of all duels
The sword, the heart, the opera of nothings
Graveyards hold the court, from dusk to dark
Lovers return
Some are loved
Some are slayed
Regrets in my diary of misery
Hold me true
I shall sing of you
In my darkest confessions
As my sword pieces your heart
You can bleed in tranquility
With your last breath
It’s I Mademoiselle de Maupin
That laid you to eternal rest
Julie d'Aubigny 1670Aprox–1707, better known as Mademoiselle Maupin or La Maupin, was a 17th-century swordswoman and opera singer. Her tumultuous career and flamboyant life were the subject of gossip and colourful stories in her own time, and inspired numerous portrayals afterwards
A Cello Plays
I’m sad tonight because I sit alone in my chair
The sound of a cello plays softly in the background
The music is sad like me, as it plays alone, filling the air
I wonder if it feels the pain of the hands that play it
Does it understand that its sound is also a cry of passion?
As the bow touches the strings, the melody laments for someone
Mourning, grieving, the bow plays the cello with strength driven from agony
An agony it doesn’t fully understand except for what the performer expresses
With great care, she holds the cello and escapes into the music filling the night
The flow is smooth, sorrowful, as it leaves the room eerie and haunted in loneliness
A broken piece, the strings bind it together, like a sulking lullaby
Alone it waits to be played, gathering dust as the days drag on
A dark corner becomes its new home
And all the cello knows of is solitude, anguish, and tears
From the hand that held the bow, playing till she bled
That’s all it was taught to play, only to never be played at all.
Written by: Jennifer Maupin
June, 2011
Mason Jar
I captured my childhood in a Mason jar
The firefly glowed on and off through the night
I threw the apples in the woods on a thin, brown stick
They were rotten and on the ground
I laughed with my best friend
And her laugh still echoes in my ears
Just like the ice cream truck that carried its melting goodies
for kids with dry mouths and tasty imaginations
We drank homemade grape juice and sweet tea from a jar
We ate homemade salsa from a jar
The jars held of good food and fireflies
and brought bonding to a lifelong friendship
I can still feel the grass blades on my bare feet
The pavement on my back
as I make shapes from floating clouds
The sun was friendly and the air was warm and flower fragrant
Time seemed to stand still for the children
running inside for supper
The night was silent, with only talking stars and moon pie cakes
And on the swing, I could fly and I was sailing into the messy
painted sunset that colored the sky, like it colored my world
I captured my childhood in a Mason jar
And I never let it out
I still carry it with me everywhere I go
Written by: Jennifer Maupin
2010
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