Dissecting the Season of the Soul

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*Image found HERE

Dissecting the season of the soul

At the window, I will not touch your holy water,
you will not sip off my ale;
we are color-coded sorrow,
curious in our numb stasis,
numb from the heart down.
Only you speaking,
chiding
Your sacred texts
that say – Spring child,
march hare,
melancholia of the wild,
the beast’s tears
for his verse
in the supper prayer –
Vicar,
I wish I was burgmansia;
one petal, one lucid planet
vomited out
to be pinned to the heavens.
With what else could you reshape the frost
that rendezvous secretly
among the valleys,
if not with mouths that give teeth
to the Sun.
Your apostles made of hops,
of hot coals, fever, quakes,
a dreamlike wake of rotten leaves,
and sugar rush disease;
they take the bubbly ell of October
and stuff the lambs with it –
release them into the glass meadows,
their chests worth as much as the spit
of all the me that died.
The flowers dry, my Vicar,
and I
am a Mother’s daughter.
The way she takes
a sack of meat, a bag of bones,
and adds a pinch of thyme,
How she takes cranberries and rubs them
onto the morning so the cold goes pink.
how she siphons love affairs
from eyes of road-kill
and paints over autumn with it,
how my soul knows January,
but falls pray to July;
how the rest is a handful of chestnuts
tossed into the open fire,
dying, but pretending to dance.
How rest is screaming, how rest is weeping
into your own palms.

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~ by Oloriel on October 16, 2015.

22 Responses to “Dissecting the Season of the Soul”

  1. Tekst (naravno!) ne razumem ali mi se slika dopada! 🙂

  2. Феноменално, подсећа ме на овај албум: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=G9ZiU7ahZso.

  3. Reblogged this on Queen's end and commented:
    Oloriel writes, beautifully! She follows my GLaM blog, & probably doesn’t know I have a writing blog. “color me in cyanide and cherry” is a blog with good reads!

    • Thank you very much for the reblog! And no, I did not know you have a writing blog!!! Would you mind leaving me a link? I will be prepared to be flabberstagged now, unlike your gorgeous dresses that took me by an amazing surprise! 😀

  4. I don’t see “the only apostoll I pray to” in here 😀

  5. This is an amazing poem.. so many brilliant lines, and metaphors.. I feel the breath of autumn, a chill as warm as syrup… a tantalizing read..

  6. You are an insanely gifted poet.

    I love it all, but especially the four lines, and these:

    “I wish I was burgmansia;
    one petal, one lucid planet
    vomited out”

    “How she takes cranberries and rubs them
    onto the morning so the cold goes pink.”

    “how my soul knows January”

    “a handful of chestnuts
    tossed into the open fire,
    dying, but pretending to dance”

    I can completely relate to this. The heartbreak. The religion woven throughout. Someone else’s. Your own. Your feelings of loss, lack, and worthlessness.

    I would love to read every word you’ve ever posted. I’ll make my way through as I’m able.

    • Thank you very much for your thoughts, they made my day, and thank you for taking the time to let me know which lines resonated with you the most, I really appriciate it, because as I often tend to mention everywhere I go with my poetry, it is both a blessing and a curse to become recognised in another’s voice. On one hand, you are no longer so lonesome, but on the other hand, you are a bit more lost because you know your pain is also anothers.
      Thank you once more for reading, and I am looking forward to checking out your poetry, I read a few and I love them. I am since forever having trouble keeping up to date with how blogspot works, so I bookmarked your site instead of trying to decipher yet another system. See you on your pages and hope you have a wonderful October day!

  7. Your art is beautiful! Thank you for sharing it! 🙂

  8. The beauty of your verse lies in its sanctification of the ordinary(which is not quite ordinary to begin with).
    I can’t help but fall in love with your written word… your metaphors, your imagery, everything is so raw and ethereal at the same time.
    Beautiful. Beautiful.

    “one petal, one lucid planet
    vomited out
    to be pinned to the heavens.
    With what else could you reshape the frost
    that rendezvous secretly
    among the valleys”

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