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Frankenstein; The Modern Prometheus – Annette Kalandros

I am honored to be featured on BraveandRecklessblog.com

braveandrecklessblog's avatarBrave & Reckless

That is me
I am of my own making.
Rather than ignore, pretend
A pretty sky for my façade—
I chose to make of myself,
A real thing, a living thing,
A patchwork quilt of scars:
Sown together scraps of terror,
Of pain, of suffering,
Of the dark wells into which I fell,
Of the dark wells I clawed and crawled,
bloodied fingered, nails torn off,
Out from the depths,
Of the wealth of human darkness
I have known, of my failures, of my triumphs—
Follow the stitching with your fingers
If you wish to understand
The quilt that I am
Though the batting be made
Of my tears, my blood, my skin,
My scars, bits of my spirit, bits of my soul—
The quilt that I am
Can offer you more
Than any villager can.

Photo by Dhilip Antony on Unsplash

I am a retired teacher, enjoying everything that…

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The Woman in Black – M.A. Morris

Written when I still used my pen name. I was honored to be featured on Braveandrecklessblog.com

She dressed in black Since the age of twenty-three. She covered all her insides with The blackest sack cloth. She made sure to let in no light. She …

The Woman in Black – M.A. Morris

Freedom of Wings

Image is my own






Haunting seen
In darkening clouds
Of chrysalis dreams
Where wanting,
Where desiring,
Haunt seen
Cease existing--
In this capturing
No ring 
pierced through
Butterfly wings
Dripping still
From newly emerging
Dreams not tended.


	


	
	






	
	

		
Tethered
	


	

		

Image is my own 





https://sammiscribbles.wordpress.com/2021/07/03/weekend-writing-prompt-216-tether/




Lightning cracked the sky today


Very nearly tethering Desire and Want,


Who entwined, rolling from edge


To edge of the horizon—


 


And I walked,


Thinking I’d make it home


Before pelting rain could chill


My heated sweating skin.


 


But I did not.


Clothes soaking,


Wet through—


I made it home,


Trailing water drops


Down the hall.


 


Finally, dry and warmed,


Dressed in fresh clothes,


I looked outside


To find a pink sky,


With clouds tethered


To the earth like me.


 
	


	
	






	
	

		
	

		
Upon Waking by Annette Kalandros
	


	

		








I am honored to be featured on Masticadoresusa.wordpress.com










Gabriela Marie Milton's avatarMasticadoresUsa // Editor: Barbara Leonhard // 








Upon Walking
by Annette Kalandros
[author’s site]






Linger here
In this vibrancy of opalescent color,
This swirling silken scent,
Hide the realities away
For they intrude too much
Upon this, this sweetness of longing—
Let me wake, reaching out a hand
tracing air as if following the curves of her
warm skin in memory




@Annette Kalandros




ABOUT US




Welcome to MasticadoresUSA.




MasticadoresUSA was founded byJuan Re Crivello as part ofGobblers/Masticadoresin 2021. Its current editor isGabriela Marie Milton.




MasticadoresUSA features talented writers of poetry and short prose. We primarily publish writers who write in English, and are based in the USA. However, while the publication language remains English, we also welcome the work of our fellow writers from all over the world.




What do we want to bring to our readers? Edgar Allan Poe once wrote:Poetryis the rhythmical creation of beauty in words.This…




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Fractured Twilight
	


	

		

Image is my own





https://amanpan.com/2021/07/01/eugis-weekly-prompt-twilight-july-1-2021/




Walking in fractured twilight


Is the smoothest time of light and mind–


A wish made–


To braid reality, this curve of light, with sweetest memory


Thus, so entwined


One begins to hope,


Believing in miracles once again


To spite all fractures made of years.
	


	
	






	
	

		
Heaven?
	


	

		

Image courtesy of istock





Tuesday Writing Prompt Challenge June 15, 2021 | Go Dog Go Café (godoggocafe.com)




 


Have I seen Heaven in her eyes?  You ask.


Can anyone see heaven in the eyes of another


Is what I must ask.


 


I have seen love, the soft one,


Take a seat and


Settle comfortably


In the eyes of others.


 


I have seen hatred, the snake,


Uncoil and dance,


Spitting venom at everything and everyone,


From the eyes of others.


 


Too often, I have seen death, the thief,


Steal all the treasures from the eyes


Of those I loved,


Leaving them hollow and emptied out.


 


I have seen other things


In the eyes of others


Along these long years


But heaven—


I don’t really think so.


 


I may be too old to see such a wonder


Or too young yet to know it


When I see it.


 


So, to answer,


I would have to say, no.


No, I have not seen


Heaven in her eyes.


 
	


	
	






	
	

		
The Words Rebel
	


	

		

I had an argument with all my words today. 

For they would not stay 

in their delightfully organized spots.

Seems, if you will, 

they wanted to jump around and play, 

ignoring the sense of my color coded dots.



I must admit I lost my patience, yelling, 

“We will never accomplish 

anything useful if you play 

In this most rambunctious way.”



To this, they in unison whined,  

“Why must we be serious all the damn time?”



And to that, I could not provide argument.

Thus, we decided to play

And took a vacation today.

 


	


	
	






	
	

		
Washed
	


	

		

At the Beach – Image by KL Caley





https://new2writing.wordpress.com/2021/06/03/writephoto-beach/#like-5743




( An older poem written in 2015 while in Provincetown, MA.  Revised for this week’s writephoto challenge.)



At sunrise over water,


        Remembering as if in a dream  


The child and you and me


As we stood by a sea


Half a world away.


Both of you now baptized differently by my tears.


 


And for and from you,


I am left with things neither given


Nor felt in years,


 Linked by all the fears


To form over a decade of a life


Lived like a stranger


In my own shrinking skin.


 


I have stood


Since the dawn


At this ocean’s edge


Waiting, waiting.


And now at noon


The rain begins.


Fierce pelting blows


Washing me clean


Of all I know


Or dare to dream.


 


For living continues


Within my own skin


 





	


	
	






	
	

		
Lingering
	


	

		









 


 


The silk of waking


To dreams yet dreamed


Linger in the sky


Adrift in gray clouds


Carrying visions of possibilities


That yet may be