Heart Cries


Heart cries

smiling under

a bright yellow moon

raining heat down my rough skin

its silence a toneless laughter

melting frozen sky to a warm pool

of colorless, translucent rainbows

at my feet.

The sky tastes bitter yet sweet,

like lingonberry jam or raspberry tart.

The laughter is silent yet LOUD, powerful.

The absence of tone and sound, deafening.

The brilliant light of the yellow moon

blinding but fading,

darkened by a particular


My toes scraping smooth shells

in the cold, shaded sand

on an endless shore

of lace-scattered dreams.

Copyright June 23 Stacie Eirich

Today’s poem was written in response to the prompt @Toads, which asked us to write a poem with unexpected descriptions. In doing so, I’ve tried to combine words, images and feelings that seem opposite. Wet with dry, rough with soft, light with dark, cold with heat, color with its absence, happy with sad, bitter with sweet and silence with noise. I wanted more time to dig deeper and explore these sensations more, but my writing moments are more like stolen bits of time this summer. So I think I will revisit this by the light of the moon tonight-which seems fitting. To me, to explore our senses and write from both emotion and experience is the heart of poetry. Thanks to Susie @Toads for the inspiration.

Author: seirich

I'm a mother, writer & dreamer living north of New Orleans, La. I love writing, music, theater, travel and my family. I've written and published four books of poetry and a children's fantasy series: The Dream Chronicles. I'm now working on a third children's novel.

9 thoughts on “Heart Cries”

  1. This is great. I really enjoyed your combination of opposite words. Life pretty much spins on combined opposites a good part of the time. Thanks so much for participating in the prompt!!

  2. Love the tartness of lingonberry jam… But even more lace-scattered dreams.. These strong metaphors seem to describe sadness so much better than joy.

  3. You achieve your ends here, Stacie — each door opens to a wholly unexpected conclusion, which itself then doors another surprise. Very much like the dream, or the dreamer wound in sheets of sleep and bumping hither and yon til dawn. There’s something refreshing in this, tasking such new draughts.

  4. The paradoxes presented here conjure some great imagery. It feels a bit like someone who is trying hard to control their pain under a veneer that everything is OK.

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