deepundergroundpoetry.com
Casting Spells in the Shadows
standing still
the soft glow of the tv
casting spells
in the muted shadows
through the glass
of my patio doors
the smell of tobacco
layered over butane,
a brand new cigarette
brought to its
brilliant end
between anxious fingers;
these last weeks
have been so hard,
and I feel so soft,
~weak~
no more fight
the stool is missing
from my corner;
there’s nowhere
to rest
between rounds
scrolled flowers
embedded in steel -
my antique zippo,
a gift from
a happier time
warm in my pocket,
while the cold
seeps into my bones
from the icy wind
that finds no barrier
without
my beloved trees,
all missing
from the plains
I have a job to do
out here,
under the stars;
I made a promise
and the gods know
I’m a sucker for an oath,
even if I have to make them
by myself, for myself;
my hand,
numb from exposure
pulls the thick letter
out of my coat pocket,
a wild gust
nearly stealIng it
from me
third strike is a charm;
the flame expands,
neon blue,
then brilliant orange;
I shield the tiny flicker
with my
carefully cupped palm,
my back taking the brunt
of nature’s chaos
while I attempt
catharsis of my own;
the dancing tongues of red
lap at the edges
of dry paper,
shiny black ink
glowing amber
as it embraces
it’s transformation
into ash
I let go of the final piece
as advancing embers
march across its landscape,
threatening
to overthrow my fingers
in their pursuit
of total destruction;
the piece
with your name
in elegant cursive
catches my eye;
extra loops thrown in
for flourish,
it grows smaller
and smaller yet,
but still reaching
upward and outward,
like it has plans
for a future,
even as it dies
it disappears
into the glittered sky,
blurred
by my toasted breath
exhaled like dense fog
meeting the wintry chill,
expanding into
my field of vision;
I suddenly remember
the cold
and I tilt my head back,
opening my eyes wide
to take in the night
and I breathe in
the sharp, cleansing air,
placing my worries
one by one
atop my exhalations
and let them go, too
into the night,
then I step
back into the warmth
of my newly discovered skin,
at peace
and ready to sleep,
my busy mind quiet
at long last
the soft glow of the tv
casting spells
in the muted shadows
through the glass
of my patio doors
the smell of tobacco
layered over butane,
a brand new cigarette
brought to its
brilliant end
between anxious fingers;
these last weeks
have been so hard,
and I feel so soft,
~weak~
no more fight
the stool is missing
from my corner;
there’s nowhere
to rest
between rounds
scrolled flowers
embedded in steel -
my antique zippo,
a gift from
a happier time
warm in my pocket,
while the cold
seeps into my bones
from the icy wind
that finds no barrier
without
my beloved trees,
all missing
from the plains
I have a job to do
out here,
under the stars;
I made a promise
and the gods know
I’m a sucker for an oath,
even if I have to make them
by myself, for myself;
my hand,
numb from exposure
pulls the thick letter
out of my coat pocket,
a wild gust
nearly stealIng it
from me
third strike is a charm;
the flame expands,
neon blue,
then brilliant orange;
I shield the tiny flicker
with my
carefully cupped palm,
my back taking the brunt
of nature’s chaos
while I attempt
catharsis of my own;
the dancing tongues of red
lap at the edges
of dry paper,
shiny black ink
glowing amber
as it embraces
it’s transformation
into ash
I let go of the final piece
as advancing embers
march across its landscape,
threatening
to overthrow my fingers
in their pursuit
of total destruction;
the piece
with your name
in elegant cursive
catches my eye;
extra loops thrown in
for flourish,
it grows smaller
and smaller yet,
but still reaching
upward and outward,
like it has plans
for a future,
even as it dies
it disappears
into the glittered sky,
blurred
by my toasted breath
exhaled like dense fog
meeting the wintry chill,
expanding into
my field of vision;
I suddenly remember
the cold
and I tilt my head back,
opening my eyes wide
to take in the night
and I breathe in
the sharp, cleansing air,
placing my worries
one by one
atop my exhalations
and let them go, too
into the night,
then I step
back into the warmth
of my newly discovered skin,
at peace
and ready to sleep,
my busy mind quiet
at long last
Published 4th Dec 2019
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
likes 9
reading list entries 3
comments 13
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The author encourages honest critique.
4th Dec 2019 8:23am
So beautifully written. "I’m a sucker for an oath" many great lines but that one stuck with me. Wonderful poetry 😁
4th Dec 2019 12:43pm
Anonymous
4th Dec 2019 2:00pm
I can relate. Burned a few letters in my youth. Never bothered to read them. Just wanted to be done with their senders and move on. Fire always seems appropriately cleansing.
Smooth flowing poetry as usual.
Smooth flowing poetry as usual.
4th Dec 2019 3:56pm
4th Dec 2019 5:44pm
Only through a ceremony of purifying fire is it possible to reclaim power, to leave the depths of existence and supply the spirit with the energy that it needs to again rise like a flame in all its upright glory. I felt like a wolf in the forest watching from a distance.
Love & Light, Luna.
xo
Love & Light, Luna.
xo
4th Dec 2019 8:19pm
It’s a painful thing, the catharsis - but the burning and cleansing in the elements is my most treasured ritual and always leaves me better when it’s been done . Thank you for the kind words, Ahavati 💜💜.
9th Dec 2019 5:40pm
6th Dec 2019 7:25am
Dear L,
Congratulations to you and letting go! I’m always in favor of empowerment that frees one from being held captive to anothers manipulation.
Letters, for me, have the distinct ability to make or break someone. I prefer the former over the latter. However, when it is the latter I usually accompany my ceremonial burning with a number of very choice adjectives!
Well written! H🌷
Congratulations to you and letting go! I’m always in favor of empowerment that frees one from being held captive to anothers manipulation.
Letters, for me, have the distinct ability to make or break someone. I prefer the former over the latter. However, when it is the latter I usually accompany my ceremonial burning with a number of very choice adjectives!
Well written! H🌷
6th Dec 2019 4:55pm
"a brand new cigarette brought to it's brilliant end." Never heard it said this way before. Brilliant indeed.
Love the boxing metaphor. Quite apt. Terrific economy when changing the perspective on an recognizable theme.
Embedded in steel sounds good but I also like embossed in steel.
Love the detail of the letter, the brief yet meaningful introduction of it's importance and the detail of the wind nearly snatching it.
The final stanza opening has this sense of oneness, Released into the stars, a breath of fog, I could picture it all in the mind's eye, connect with that sense of cold flooding over,
There is consistent ability with the measure, the meter and cadence of your writes. Harmonious flow down the page, effortless translation. Great work. 💓✨
Love the boxing metaphor. Quite apt. Terrific economy when changing the perspective on an recognizable theme.
Embedded in steel sounds good but I also like embossed in steel.
Love the detail of the letter, the brief yet meaningful introduction of it's importance and the detail of the wind nearly snatching it.
The final stanza opening has this sense of oneness, Released into the stars, a breath of fog, I could picture it all in the mind's eye, connect with that sense of cold flooding over,
There is consistent ability with the measure, the meter and cadence of your writes. Harmonious flow down the page, effortless translation. Great work. 💓✨
13th Dec 2019 7:12pm
13th Dec 2019 10:48pm
Anonymous
- Edited 11th Apr 2021 4:45pm
29th Dec 2020 2:51pm
<< post removed >>
29th Dec 2020 4:54pm
