Writecraft: Frankenstein's Creature

A little poem about the frustrated writer cycle:

Went to dinner, I did,
on a full belly I gathered bits
and knit together blood and bone,
sinew and tissue,
Hair and nail.
I loved it, then, and for dessert feasted I
on the thrill that I've laid hands
on life-giving and soul-making.
Reveled, did I, as sundown approached,
and my Creature came to life,
better than I could have known.
I watched him,let him wander, out into the fields,
till down the road he disappeared
and my heart then grew hollow.
The night took hold.

The bell tolls, and moonrise comes--
Look at this creature I've made!
He rises fully fashioned,
crying in the night;
he's unwoven and misshapen
due to my mis-craft.
Oh Lord my God, I am cold.
The knife is in his rotten hand.

He spots me, and drives me toward,
and I wonder, at this little thing I've  made--
Will this monster I've created
chase me to my doom?
By midnight I loathe him;
by one I've dug a grave;
two, three, and four, the great bell tolls
who will find this thing I've buried.
The six am sounds;
'nevermore!" I cry;

The sun sped high, in the sky

and rained golden down on me--

I basked within her depths

and knew the thrill of glee.

Dawn brought epiphany

and showed me new ways--

My fingers are too slow,

no matter how quickly do I go.

The Day flew past me,

quickening my heart--

and I, desperate for more,

dabbled in the rain

refeshing soul and mind.

Hunger. Life. Beauty.  Splendor.

All these I did impart--

I bled my soul on the page

and shaped me a monster lovely.

Warmly orange came the rays

and deep purple shone so bold

on my little Creature,

so lovely, so gold.

and all the while he's chasing me;

I'm running, no escape--

My Lord and God what is this thing

that my two hands have made?

The monster roars,

crushing earth beneath his feet

as we run along--

Keep me one step ahead,

and never let me behind

for this monster will slay me

with the two hands for him I made.

His great paw snatched my throat

and he drags me to the ground--

what happened next I can't say

but I turned on my creature

and my creature I laid hold.

He did not move,

but neither could I.

We lay fallen in the tomb

fashioned for my creation.

A thick pink dawn arrives--

neither do we move.

By birdsong I wonder

Morning light streams again

and breath re-entered my lungs.

Surely I live, somehow, some way--

We rise, staggering, coughing, from the floor.

We rise, my creature and I--

my creature that I've made, this beautiful work

of my two hands offers me his own.

Grasping hands, we do crawl up,

Hand in hand we rise again,

out of the grave I meant for him,

the maw that took us both.

The sun glows high, in the sky

and rains golden down on me--

I bask within her depths

and know the thrill of glee.

Poetry: Himalayan Theme Song

A little inspiration born from my trip through an atlas on the Himalayas.

I glory in your magnitude

and bask in your otherness;

let all the world be silent

while I listen to your voice. 

Calm, my soul, and yield to him

who built the mount called Everest

and carved the deepest gorge.

Arise, golden sun,

and bow low, silver moon,

for though the stars come out in droves

they kneel only before the One.

I raced toward the holy mountain;

I fled for days unending,

to the mountain whereupon the One

set his feet to the Eastern Gate.

There I fall, too weak to stand,

only able to bring forehead to ground;

and only then did I feel your hand--

there you gave me food and rest.

The magnificent one raised me up,

and told me not to fear;

he who set his face as stone to Jerusalem's gate

now does speak to me--and dwell within my soul.

Awake, O heavens; and rush forth, O seas;

he who bars the ocean gates

has plunged within the depths

and granted peace to beasts within.

Arise, O earth; take note, all-seeing sky,

turn red with sorrow and indigo with grief;

let the green of bitterness open wide

and pour out into the sea;

mighty ocean, devour all that rages against the king.

You are uncannily sovereign, and gloriously humble;

you are tenderly justice, and your mercy is severe;

your righteousness burns as devouring flames

and steadfast are you in all your ways.

Be still, my soul, though he who sees is here;

stay calm; don't tremble; don't rush out like a child;

Nevermind, like a child I bound, I leap across the heights

and drink deeply of the depths made for me.