The Goddess Mere


Lady of the deep blue,
Medusa hair,
sigils etched into her skin.
Child of the sea,
guardian of creative feminine.

Break a woman,
and be broken,
cursed to spend eternity
crawling belly to the ground.

Worship her.

Fear her,
body devouring lovers,
shield for a virgin heart.

~Nara Malone

This is my contribution to G-Man's Friday 55. Drop by to join the fun yourself and to see what others wrote.



To A Muse


How do we do it amid hissing,
teeth gnashing,

I lead.
They run away.


When last comma finds a place,
when final scene takes stage,
words have caged them.
Trained me.

Truce struck.
Contract signed.
We smile for the crowd.

a new story outlines itself.
Battle lines drawn,
claws twitch in their sheaths.


~Nara Malone

 I have edits to turn in next week and the new book is about to take the stage. The muses and I have called a truce in the next word war  to pen another 55 for the G-Man. Drop by to see what others wrote or to join the fun yourself.


Going Down Blues (jazz poetry)

Spilled milk

Count me in
we're going

Down into red blues
down where
nightmares can't dream

Pitch the canned heat
keep the beat
slick licks
burning through
jelly rolls

Tangle in my dark
black cat bone
drumming skin

We rain harmony
dusting your broom
wash it
simmer down jam
you free

Rhythm going liquid
milk spilling
going down

~Nara Malone

This is my contribution to G-man's Friday 55 and dVersePoets Meeting the Bar.

I'll confess. I tried and tried to beat this down to 55. The best I could do was 69. I tried to beat it down to jazz, but it came out blues.


Butterfly Tale

 I dreamed a magic song and wrote it down when I woke up.

I sang it out loud. Big magic there. Don't try it.

It turned me blonde. And...

Video proof -- now when the moon rises I turn into a butterfly.

I think the moral is: Don't copy song-writing homework in your creative programming notebook.

~Nara Malone

An alternative moral could be, don't miss a week of writing a Friday 55 for G-man.  I suggest you hurry over and join the fun or drop in to see what others wrote. If you see a lesson in this butterfly tale that I have missed, please share it in the comments.

Credits: I learned the magic code for a butterfly shape-shifting transmogrifier over at Fred Beckhusen's blog.

A couple of magic words from that song are from Disney, Cinderella. Whenever I read code tutorials that fling around words like Boolean, conditionals, floats, strings-- that song starts playing in my brain. I knew you all would recognize that reference.

The programming form for the song came from an explanation of complex if/else blocks (/me rolls eyes)  example on the Second Life Wiki.

Put them together and what do you get...


Widow's Waltz Revisited

Chuck Will's call through mourning
singing up
a slow dance
waiting death, no dawdling

Chuck Will-ill's
Chuck Will-ill's
widow will
but Chuck won't

Mourn limp limbs, sluggish mind,
solo waltz
years lost too
broken man death couldn't find

Chuck will
Chuck did
Chuck Will's
widow won't

secret stash pills swallowed
no regret
bright flute leads
Chuck dances, she follows

Chuck Will-ill's
Chuck Will-ill's
widow will
but Chuck won't

Chuck's widow waltzes slow
nightgown swirls
shrouding grief letting go

Chuck will
Chuck did
Chuck Will's
widow won't

~Nara Malone

For those who don't know, a chuck-will is a bird, much like a whip-poor-will, that sings at night. The first time you hear one you can recognize it by its call: chuck-will's-widow.  A call that replays through the night. A few years back I wrote this poem about chuck-wills . This is a reworking for a class I'm taking and my contribution to dVersePoets.com OpenLinkNight. Drop by to see what others wrote or to join the fun yourself.