The five sorrowful mysteries shudder within these pellicle walls, and they are not Enough
Lost are the pleas upon deafened ears, what is the throat useful for
Blood-sweat is fallen when waxen agony is traced with splintered fingernails
The tattoos of repentance delivering languor for a broken mind, as meant to
Nine tails cursing and cracking, rapaciously blinded for a statement to make
Leaving messages across the fleshy pillar in symbolic stripes and hieroglyphic half-moons
Until the ground is moist with sorrow, and the roses begin to Redden
Throughout the suffering, life mocks the mortal attempts of penances cast in
It brings pensive, maddening longevity to support a weighted crowning of white
Too heavy a pain for the stagnant swelling of idle hands, empty palms
Yet the guilt has no leavetaking; must it burden the ass in eternal damnation? no
It will desert when the spirit is expended and the breath is in labor
When the moons bulge, the toxins course, and the river of memory reddens.
Hanging at the precipice, swallowed by delirium, passion aglows in White
The fervent carnage bleeds from hallowed sacrifice to redemptive bruises
Dusk approaches, prayers are answered; finally, what life has been leading toward
An end with no beginning, the sweet emptiness of texture, destitution of color,
the body’s relentless search for the paradise of non-being and nothing else
When the sought forgiveness consumes the mind before this fantasy collapses.
Inspired by Lucy’s ‘Memory.’ poem, above is an attempt at the Golden Shovel poetic form. In it, you choose an existing poem, or a section, using each word as the last word in each of your lines. Below is the excerpt I used from ‘Moonrise’ by Sylvia Plath:
“Enough for fingernails to make half-moons
Redden in white palms no labor reddens.
White bruises toward color, else collapses.”
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