Join Prism Book Alliance® as Edmond Manning goes Outside the Margins today.
Every now and then, a fiction writer gets the urge to write a little poetry. I can’t resist giving into occasionally wearing a beret and thinking deep thoughts while smoking a clove cigarette. I know that image is a terrible stereotype to put on poets everywhere but I do so in the spirit of play, so it’s okay, right? I mean, if they wanted, they could retaliate by saying fiction writers are overweight, symbol-heavy wannabees with one fist jammed into a bag of Cheetos while simultaneously–hey, that hurts. No more stereotypes.
Without further ado, I’d like to share a few poems.
I know you, Sacrifice
sadistic vampire towering over me,
Me – pale, drained, gasping and you lean down, whisper,
“Is that all you’ve got?”
Maybe that wasn’t you –
– maybe –
maybe that was deprivation
wearing your clothes
parting his hair same as yours.
They pointed and said, ‘that’s sacrifice,
He drinks your passion and
when they find you, your soft
fingertips are charred black.’
Here in my doorway,Sacrifice stands
hand in hand, gentle grin,
face basking in warm firelight.
You’re not so fierce. Or angry.
So why am I stuttering, afraid to say,
If I show you my soft underbelly, you will laugh
And say, god, he’s pathetic.
I had no idea he was so lame.
Well, I’ve decided that’s what you’ll say.
It has been said
So I’ll show you something soft
That is vulnerable
well, sort of.
Say, 74% vulnerable.
74% more packaged vulnerability
(and 26% me still in control)
but I guess
that’s not exactly vulnerable, is it?
Nakedness is not nakedness if I’m still covering my dick.
But nakedness means
You will laugh and say, god he’s pathetic.
It hurt too much the first time
The alternative is careful, measured vulnerability.
Choosing to go deeper in slow, steady steps.
Choosing who and when and saying, “No, not now.”
Which is valid
but it takes years
That mysterious, shimmering staircase
toward radiant treasures, unclaimed
If I choose, tonight
to leap over a dozen gilded stairs –
heart pounding nakedness,
Please, don’t laugh at me.
Don’t give me your advice.
or simplify what I said,
it’s hard for me
and i am
i am very afraid.
I knew a dragon once
Swallowed his firey river of grief instead of
Smiting it into the barren earth
Where it belonged
And when he finally stopped
With false responsibility,
He breathed it out,
- the wretched roar –
The dragon crumbled.
And the townspeople
came out and cheered!
And shared his sadness
And rubbed his scales
Which made him
For the townspeople,
they loved him
And had been waiting for
Everyone knows, of course,
About Edmond Manning
Edmond Manning is the author of King Perry, King Mai, The Butterfly King andFilthy Acquisitions. He spends a great deal of time standing in front of the fridge with the door open, wondering why it’s not stocked with more luncheon meats and cheese.
I have a number of paperbacks, most of which are signed, to giveaway. Over the between now (11 Mar 2017) and 31 Mar 2017, every comment on the blog (this post and all other new posts), will be entered to win 1 of these paperbacks. There are also some misc swag items, so there will be a few packs of these to give away as well.
Thank you so much for your support over the last 4 years. Prism will be closing its doors on 1 April 2017. All content will remain available, but no new content will appear after 31 Mar 2017. As such all request forms have been turned off. Again Thank you,
|This post may contain affiliate links.
|Prism Book Alliance® assumes no liability for the ownership of photos or content used in guest posts and interviews. The post author assumes all responsibility and liability for this content.|