Poetry (63)

Hello Escritori,

At practically the last minute I’ve managed to sort out something spooky pre-Halloween. It’s a fair bit slap-dash. Even so, in for a penny…



The last, last rites

A circle of mourners

In crenellations

Of black lace

As if harbouring

Imprisoned and

Industrious spiders

In diaphanous battlements

To spin their garments.


In the dark

The grave-digger

Thickly scythes soil

Scraping at the earth

With a scrunching spade:

But mark this

He does it, backwards.


Sprinkle everything

With holy water

As you begin

Speaking of unseen

Unseemly things.


Croon an elegy

for your daughter.


Place garlic in her mouth

Bring an axe for her head

A silver stake for her heart.

One hefty stone or pebble,

Come quickly,

At the time for owls.

Say a prayer before the deed.

And howl.


Let her burn to ashes.


Only then will she be at peace

Received by a heavenly choir,

Only then will she cease to be

A ….


(© Copyright Pola Negri, 22/10/2016.)



9 thoughts on “Poetry (63)

  1. Oh, I could eat this right up! Love that image of indutrious spiders spinning her garments, the crenellations of black lace, and the ‘garlic in her mouth’ and ‘axe for her head’ stanza … You’ve ticked all the right Gothic boxes for me. I can see all of it, hear it too. Wish I’d written this. Super, creepy work, Pola.


      1. My absolute pleasure – loved reading it. Ooh, love mermaids too – not the Disney ones, though, but the slightly scary, luring men to their deaths and being vengeful type 🙂


      2. Bahahaha. No, she’s a mournful mermaid. If I ever had a pirate ship it would be The Mournful Mermaid. In fact I might call it that now. I called it that in French initially.

        Liked by 1 person

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