Carolyn Crossley

Spirit

I am the fire spirit risen
from Aries, I have been riven,
on the birthday of Artemis
I was born of a stardust promise.

I am to be sought not bidden.
From in a dark place hidden.
On the cusp of the gloaming,
I may be found the hillsides roaming.

Passion

Summer nights, running through forests of love
Entwined like tree branches intimacy found.
Lips kiss as if greedily taking in water.
Bodies intermingled like vines, sought and received
Wrapped in each other’s arms, passion sated.

First Born

In the November snowfall.
Through the darkness of night. My courage in both hands.
The hours drifted by. The pain was numbed by gas and air.  Suddenly, you were there – belovéd firstborn.

Unequal

When one loves
more than the other
no good can
come of it.
The other cheats and tells lies
A divorce follows.

Estrangement

the saddest thing is
to be mourning the living,
our estranged children

Eternity

October sorrows
recalled memories – birth, death,
awaiting rebirth
our promised eternity
free from human pain at last!

~~~

Carolyn Crossley, ©🦊VixenOfVerse, is a poet and writer from the Northwest of England. Previously published in the first The Short Of It book – The Sound of Brilliance, she has also been published in the anthologies, Poetic Vision and Purrfect Poems. Carolyn has a thriving WordPress blog: Backfromdarknesstolight.com containing haiku, senryu, and other poetry forms. Carolyn’s first feature on The Short of It was on November 20, 2020, and featured again this year on 5/27/2022.

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Accidentally Poetic

on the streets

a molested teen
knocked up by dad real young
then kicked out while gay
will be caught loitering now 
on the seedy side of town

sweet smellin’ weed

it takes me off mark
my weightlessness calms me down
in peace I float high
smoke permeating all pores
drifting away from life’s crust

polluted

cough inducing life
it chokes my throat hot and raw
exhaust and anger
fury hangs in the air thick
rage blows up, innocence pays

~~~

AP’s confession – the words just started pouring out one day. Totally shy in real life but enjoys bold poetry about life. This is Accidentally Poetic’s first feature on The Short of It.

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Tremaine L. Loadholt

Pressure  

she sits on the sea’s floor
shaped by the world
above it–changed forever.
the workers of ancient
tongues sift through
her words, chanting
their dismissals.
the pressure from centuries
ago labels her again
and again.
is this the chosen path
home or not?

The Brave Girl Knoweth Not  

enchanting winds sway
over the clandestine clouds
she speaks of hard times
the chosen few laugh
behind her back, valleys shift
to the hills of life
brave girl knoweth not
of love or impending storms
she prepares for pain

Good Dog  

good dog sleeps alone
savors the sunlight of morn
drifting into dreams
human loves her more each day
Mother Nature gifts them peace

Winter Knocks But Isn’t Allowed Entry

Temperatures tank throughout
the day, mimicking winter blues.
We shuffle along in life, wrapping
our bodies in extra clothing.
We are layered for bitter chill,
the calm of every storm spits
in our direction–we war
our way through the hell of it.
A long walk lends frostbite to
the limbs–we shake ourselves
into warmth–turn the thermostat
up, shoot fire into the bones.
Winter knocks. It is premature.
We howl at its presence–fangs
sharp enough to slice through
hardened flesh.
We are not ready. We are not ready.

Forgotten Words

We aren’t the warriors
of the past. We have
different methods–different ways,
but we still work words
the way the ancestors intended.
What we say can
be misconstrued, but what we
mean, never is.

~~~

A North Carolina writer, Tremaine L. Loadholt has been published in literary journals, anthologies, and magazines, and published three poetry books: Pinwheels and Hula Hoops, Dusting for Fingerprints, and A New Kind of Down. Her artistic expressions are at A Cornered Gurl and Medium. This is Tremaine’s first feature on The Short of It.

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Freya Pickard

Abyss

shriek into the void
dark shadows shatter, dissolve
still empty inside

alone in abyss
my screams no longer echo
finally absorbed

a soul-touching croon
expands to vast crescendo
calls me back to life

Alive

clasped closely
– I do not wish to escape
held by darkness
– his cold embrace, a refuge
he lives
– because of my blood
I am not yet dead
– he needs me alive

Victim

docile, I submit
ecstasy, then sudden pain
give myself freely

moonlit muscles enfold me
metallic kisses drown me

you cannot live without me
I need you to sustain me

what have you woken
in the embers of my soul –
dark flame of your heart

Attitude

with an
attitude as
bad as my boots, I strut,
swagger and sneer – untouchable
bite me!
killing for sheer adrenaline
no emotion this side
of death; why should
I care?

Suicide

no one hears me
therefore I do not exist
pale ghost in shadow

I step out into sunlight
erupt in blaze of glory

~~~

Freya Pickard is the author of The Kaerling series, an epic fantasy. She writes mainly fantasy tales and creates poetry in order to rest the prose side of her brain. She finds her inspiration in the ocean, beautifully written books, and vinyl music (particularly heavy metal and rock). Freya was featured twice in The Short of ItMay 2020 and October 2020. Her piece, Sailing, featured in the first anthology – was selected for the Pushcart Prize.

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Reblog – The River Flows On

I do love the structure of this poem, really has you rolling along the river, so to speak! Enjoy the ride. 😉

The Twisting Tail

the

       river

               flows

                           on

profound

            streaks

                     crease

                                   the

                                       landscape

formed

            with

                     time

                                in

                                      mind

consciousness

                               a

                                 constant

                                              stream

the   river   flows   eternal

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Reblog – Tanka: Black & White Memory

This piece has me coming back again and again. I can find many sentiments expressed in this. How about you?

The Twisting Tail

defy the long sleep

dark circles shadow your eyes
bear the weight of life

brutal ignorance becomes
a black and white memory

Panda

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Carolyn Crossley

Divinity

You live in me, so
deep I neither hear nor see,
but know – you are there.
You have been there from the start.
In the gaps I feel your pulse.

Silence

I hear you in the
deepest silence, you are the
heart of my spirit.

Love

Universal love
links us all together like
hearts beat together.

The Witch Within

We are by Goddess
blesséd, she who lives within;
wakes the witch in us.
Reconnecting us to our
roots, chakras and ancestors.

~~~

Carolyn Crossley©TheVixenOfVerse has been a poet since 2002. She originally used poetry as therapy after losing her younger son to heroin. She now concentrates on her blog: backfromdarknesstolight.com and will publish her first anthology in 2021.

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