repast 2s

The table is full of noisy ghosts–
they are woven through
the cloth that warms the bread–
simmering in the bowl of broth,
poured into the wine glasses,
reflected in the blade of the knife.

They gather in unrelated absence,
unknown to each other or themselves–
their years are few and many,
ages compressed into moments in time,
their stories fed by seasoning,
by the harvesting of lives.

Lingering beyond sustenance,
beyond hunger, an ache
that vibrates both blood and bones–
faces shadow the vacant chairs–
they whisper into the ceilings
and behind the dark walls.

Jade (hosted by Grace) at dVerse has us writing about food.  I first wrote this poem for an Ekphrastic Review challenge, but it was rejected.  I wanted to rework it a bit and do a collage, so this was the perfect opportunity.

repast close up s

If you want to see the artwork, by Anne Vallayer-Coster, that was the inspiration for my poem and art, and see the responses chosen, you can find them here.


the world will offer itself to you to be unmasked (after Kafka)

unmasked s

Out from the black
comes what you don’t know–
it creeps up your back
from far far below.

The path disappears,
surrounds you with sound
that gathers your fears
and swirls them around.

And what you can’t see
appears everywhere–
like skeleton trees
that rattle the air.

Spirits emerge
from under night’s mask–
currents that surge
and greet you unasked.

Nowhere to go
but further inside–
the dark starts to glow–
there’s nowhere to hide.

A little pre-Halloween fun via the dVerse prompt from Amaya for a children’s verse inspired by a quote from Franz Kafka (see title).

unmasked close up s

My older daughter’s favorite fairly tale was “Hansel and Gretel”.  I read her endless versions. Children have always been attracted to the dark.