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.

Sisters Night and Death

In response to the weekend writing challenge over at Toads — here is a sestet (6 line poem) on the theme: Sisters Night and Death.

Blue Desires @lulebel.deviantart.com

Daughters of the moon, spectres of wind and shadow fly

like ghosts they float across a starless sky.

Words come like icy nightmare fingers, whispering they creep

sweet nightingale voices luring us, guiding us to sleep.

In their chambers, we dream of sisters death and night

carrying us away in the pale moonlight.

Copyright June 20 Stacie Eirich

I rather enjoyed writing this one today, although I must admit that at first it was difficult to write about the moon and night while the dawn was breaking outside. These summer days full of my children — the early hours before they wake are usually the only ones I have alone to sit & write. But I am a creature of the night and feel as if I may also be a daughter of the moon itself — so it wasn’t a stretch to imagine the sisters and hear their voices. In the margins of my journal I wrote: What have they come for? Our thoughts, dreams, wishes, our very souls? They are beautiful, haunting…pure. Thanks to Kerry at Toads for the challenge. 🙂