A web of weird is cast –
Three sisters weave the wick:
Clothos, who spins the thread of human life,
Lachesis, who determines the length,
And Atropos, who cuts the thread of the quick.
Twisting raw fibers,
They form a cocoon,
Over and under, around and through:
They proclaim my fate and raise an alarm:
A mortal soul is born!
Mine is a cloth torn from the loom
As the spirits whirl and dance,
Chortling with glee.
Random misery is my lot –
I cannot escape the gods’ own curse.
I dwell in a cloud of blackness,
My innocence plucked from my youth.
Cancer of sorrow sprouts like a fungus
In the dank undergrowth of my mind.
Tangled, ensnared, choked by the ropes,
I claw at the garrote and pray,
“Great Norns, transform me!
Let me become uroboros,
Declaring, like the Scots queen,
‘In my end is my beginning.’”
Kerry Vincent © 1992
Trembling at my threshold,
I dare to discover what lies behind the door,
The tightly-shut, but unlocked door.
Opening it, I see
My psyche in shambles.
I sigh and say,
“Where do I begin?”
The floor is littered with
The dust of illusions,
Shattered shards of time,
Remnants of lost dreams,
Tufts of hair pulled out in battles,
The wood stained with tears and blood.
“I must clean up this mess, but how?”
I search shy corners
For a soul-sweeping broom,
Finding only a small whisk broom.
I use it to form a tiny dust pile,
Creating a bit of order out of chaos,
Already perspiring, though my work has just begun.
Soon I feel weak, worn, and weary,
Unable to fathom how I will dump
All the dirt I have gathered so far.
“I don’t need all the answers at once!”
I remind myself.
My job, for now, for today,
Is merely to sweep,
Evenly, carefully,
One short stroke at a time.
One small square at a time.
Eventually I make a clean sweep,
The floor looks great!
I smile, straighten my sore back,
Put my hand on my hip proudly, and boast,
“Look at what I accomplished!”
I step and glide and perform on my polished floor,
Then sit, and rest, a sip some tea, satisfied at last.
Until, naturally,
More dust and dirt appear.
I get my broom and begin again,
Sweeping, sweeping,
An ancient ritual against
An eternal enemy.
By Kerry Vincent
© 1993
The cylinder spins;
The pattern changes.
Myriad bits of broken glass,
Fragile shattered dreams,
Colors bright and dark,
Opaque and clear,
Ever-shifting pieces,
Ever-changing connections.
Lovely, like rose windows,
Or surreal, like Man Ray’s nightmares.
But then, when you least expect it,
Some unseen hand twists the cap,
And the cylinder spins again.
By Kerry Vincent © 1990
When I am an old cat…
I shall eat only salmon mousse
And cough up hairballs in front of guests.
I shall bathe before the company
And lick between my toes while they watch.
I shall run when they try to pet me
And miss the litter box on purpose
When my human comes home late.
I shall refuse to eat dry kibbles
And hold out for canned fish
So I can whisker-kiss with tuna breath.
I shall look offended when pushed off
Of paperwork or my favorite chair,
And I will ignore being scolded
For leaving tongue grooves in the butter.
But for now I must not dig in house plants
And knock down knick-knacks too often.
I must not nip the children too hard
Or growl too much at the vet.
I must be purr-fect and pretty
And always adorable.
Still every now and then
I must hiss at the dog
And hide when I am called
And spit out my medicine
And act bored with my kitty toys
So my human will not be too surprised
When I become an old and finicky cat.
By Kerry Vincent © 2003
this glass, this green glass, this blue glass,
this teal glass, even this pale purple glass,
this glass looks so cool, so calm, so serene,
but that is only because it is jazz glass:
it hides its past oh so well
so all you see is the cool.
this glass was not always cool and flat -
once it was burning hot, fluid, streaming,
molten like lava spilling from a volcano,
this glass is sand and ash that has paid its dues.
It has survived the fiery furnace,
But like a phoenix,
It has risen from the ashes to be reborn.
This glass is jazz glass –
It has paid the price,
It has counted the cost,
But it chooses to be transformed,
To groove on forevermore:
Behold the birth of cool!
By Kerry Vincent © 2008
by E. A. Poetica (a.k.a. kvwordsmith)
Once upon a mid-day boring, while I net-surfed, work ignoring,
Hoping for some inspiration…
While I waited, nearly napping, suddenly the keys were tapping,
My fingers the muse was slapping, slapping at my keyboard.
“Get busy, you, write some more,
You can do it, write some more….”
“Like Anita Marie, you could dis-member
Ghosts and their hunters, spilling blood upon the floor,
Crying out in their sorrow, nevermore be a tomorrow,
Load the corpses in a red death wheelbarrow,
Dump them at Anita’s Owl Creek Bridge,
Over there, beyond the dark cyber ridge.
“Or like Lori print some screens, mandalas both blue and green,
Goddess and flowers, frolic in the magick bowers,
Colors spinning like morning prayer flags,
Blessing the green earth and the Soul Food hags.”
(Older women, but not witches
A little sassy, not really *itches,
Just e-wenches on a creative ride!
We kiss the Muse, & try to stay on her good side!)
Presently my soul grew stronger, hesitating then no longer,
“Oh dear Muse, truly your forgiveness I implore,
But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,
And so faintly set the keys to tapping at my keyboard,
I didn’t know it was you – please don’t be sore.”
I listened for her voice – only cyber silence, nothing more.
Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortals ever dared to dream before;
But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token,
And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, “Le Enchanteur?”
This I whispered, but an echo murmured back the words, “I am Le Enchanteur!” -
There I sat at computer table, wondering, doubting, that I was able,
Could I create each day, and my creativity explore,
Could I earn my raven wings, and flap some more?
“Yes, you can do it, always learning, learning forevermore,
Create and share and post and comment – creativity galore!”
She encourages her flock of ravens, our Le Enchanteur!
“You can do it, write some more….”
* I would have included more foodies but got interrupted by my day job…Kerry)
(inspired by the pure, elegant, simplicity of glass - and other simple pleasures)
10 Simple Pleasures
(by Kerry Vincent - (c) 200 
A sleeping cat
sunlight through stained glass
a cup of strong tea
wind rippling the water
sweet scent of evening-blooming flowers
moonlight through the trees
a handful of extra ink pens
a glut of good books to read
a friend you can talk to
a kiss goodnight
In Praise of Blue
by Kerry Vincent (c) 2008
Glorious blues,
those luscious hues:
Sweet cerulean,
sensuous saffire,
wistful wisteria,
delightful delphium,
precious Prussian,
mysterious marine,
calming cobalt,
alluring azure,
inviting indigo,
lovely lapis lazuli,
pale morning sky:
In my best dreams
I always dream in blue.
the tear slides down
another piece of love
by Raven TK
http://onthewrongsideofthemirror.wordpress.com/
pulling bones up from underneath
walk in the beyond
by Raven TK
http://onthewrongsideofthemirror.wordpress.com/
And wish to fly
Who would wonder why
If I could spring up
Full-blown
Like shadows on the wind
It is just my time
If I should turn aside
And let you go
Crying out with all my soul
But trying to smile
Would you know why
Would you love me still
If I should pull you tight
Hold you close
My breath upon your ear
Will you beleive me
When I say
I’ll never let you go
by Raven TK
http://onthewrongsideofthemirror.wordpress.com/
vital organs gone soft
down dog pulls me higher
by Raven TK
http://onthewrongsideofthemirror.wordpress.com/
delicate butterfly winds
whipped along
flailed
in the winds of change
torn far apart
asunder
by time and circumstance
blinded by need
by desire
valiant
and so alone
struggling on
just to be
by Raven TK
http://onthewrongsideofthemirror.wordpress.com/
glacier look to the dry atmosphere
so far
so near
untouchable
by Raven TK
http://onthewrongsideofthemirror.wordpress.com/
walk away walk away
hand in hand
with cool device
blood in tears
sweat and pain
drip and pour
down the drain
out of the way
gone gone gone
by Raven TK
http://onthewrongsideofthemirror.wordpress.com/
Authenticated by le Enchanteur
Find some lively prompts here on the Pythian Games page. All ideas and suggestions will be gratefully received.
Heather Blakey
Lori
Anita Marie
imogen88
gwenguin1
Chefleur
traveller2006
kvwordsmith
gailkav
cronelogical
shewolfy728
espirit07
dcevaal
amazon3
Raven
thalia
woodnymph
porchsitter
shelbloom
thecricketonthehearth
laralorelei
spacemonkey1996
Jill
Alexis
