Moth-Woman
Luke Eidenschink
Used with Permission
luminous coven of midnight gypsy moths
her magic flavors fertile night
among lightless thickets
moonlight seeping from sybaritic palms
transmuted into diamond-dust
as it rises to the Moth King’s pale coat
merging
only
monolithic haystack audience
bear witness to
what mage commandeers or defers
which berthed witch
sorcerer or summoner
shadow trails enchantress’ past
ripened midnight transcendence
seasons her fermented moon
***
Written for Real Toads Art FLASH/ 55!, imagined By Kerry O’Connor.
Hephaestus’ Waste & Cosmic Rubble 
You have brought out the greater story behind this picture, I believe. The separate elements are remarkably detailed: the word ‘fertile’ is so key to the whole, yet I missed that exact word to describe it myself. I also love that you identify the Moth King. that brings a new element to the drama as it unfolds. then your hints of magic lead to that killer final line. An altogether amazing write. Thank you.
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I love your coven of gypsy moths, Barry! I had to read it aloud and let the delicious words roll around my tongue.
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I especially like your closing stanza….nice to see you, Barry!
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The language brings about a magical reverie, as does the imagery. I particularly loved the beginning and how it sets the tone. The enchantment works remarkably well. 🙂
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That title is a poem all by itself. And I love that song/video. 🙂
my favorites:
“moonlight seeping from sybaritic palms”
“which berthed witch
sorcerer or summoner”
“ripened midnight transcendence
seasons her fermented moon”
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Even in a short poem you manage to make the magic come live… the way you build the tension between the woman and the moth-king makes me think about a witch and her fervor.
Fermented moon is excellent
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A 55-word limit is challenging enough to heighten tension by itself! I like it though… forces me to challenge myself. Thanks, Björn.
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I love ‘moonlight seeping from sybaritic palms transmuted into diamond-dust,’ such a magical poem Barry! 😀
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Thank you Sanaa. 🙂
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curious thing about this poem, you have to read it several times, and preferably, aloud –
it’s almost a borderline mad incantation for the density of the images, the weaving of the words, layer upon layer, which means you need the sounds to wash over and into, the scents to rise in the mysteries for the magical garden and night, in order to finally understand the scope of this … poem.
(I’m going out on a limb here, but I’ll be honest, – I’ve read this several times, throughout the day, and until I started reading it out loud, I didn’t much care for it, felt suffocated almost, but once I let the words wing themselves into the air, – wow, what a difference it made, for me – so I just wanted to let you know. because I’m stupid honest in this way, some of the time. And as an aside, thanks for the wonderful comment on mine,
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Thank you for your thoughtful reply. I appreciate your honesty. To be honest, I was dissatisfied with my initial draft. It felt shallow to me; like it didn’t do proper justice to the image. I kept chipping at it until I was somewhat content with the result, but it still feels like I left a lot unsaid, you know?
Thanks again, and please continue to be “stupid honest” with me. We all want to be praised if our work touches someone, but I also want to learn and grow as a writer… and sometimes that can make for uncomfortable conversations. I use to have a brittle spirit, but now I live for those uncomfortable conversations. 🙂
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actually, I’ve been thinking about it, this poem, for days now …. and like I said, it works for me, when I read it aloud; I think, as you’ve noted, it feels like something isn’t quite “right” — it’s both heavy and light, and there isn’t anything wrong with the sharp play of light/dark – but maybe, it just needs some time? As in, to percolate, or brew or stir itself, – to breathe its own wings and pipe its own song?
I can’t be sure –
I too have written many pieces where it all just needs to rest – most writing does, of course – but that shouldn’t stop the experimenting, the word play and engagement, because sometimes, these pieces are the groundwork for what’s to come – so in the end, you’ll know, I think, how much weight and importance this poem holds – whether it’s content with how it is now, or whether it will speak again to you, re-shaping itself etc. And ultimately, I think, nothing ventured, nothing gained, – so it is what it is.
And remember, the point of inspiration evolved within itself, of itself, guided by the artist’s hand, – so maybe it’s okay when we sit and try to process and cull from it, but don’t quite meet our own expectations; sometimes, the language isn’t our own.
as for “stupid honest”? – I too don’t mind receiving honest commentary. It beats out endless streams of empty platitudes; truthful appreciation is wonderful, but it would be seriously crazy to think one can bang out completely amazing poetry, or flash or whatever in the briefest of time spans, – unless one is “writing slogans” … so please, never hesitate to share your thoughts as you best see fit; I’m thick skinned and appreciate feedback. 🙂
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There is magic, the sense of spirit and spell in this. Wow!
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Thanks. I’m glad you liked it! 🙂
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What a magic filled poem! The coven of moths works so well Barry.
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Thank you! I wrestled with the coven a bit, but I’m cool with the result. 🙂
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Thank you! I wrestled with the coven a bit, but I’m cool with the result. 🙂
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punctuation helps me a lot – (I know many don’t with poetry and I probably over do it) as I had to read it a few times and I think punctuation would have helped. But that is ME. This image is really something… definitely fertility, magic and the night… You hit all three.
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I agree with you on punctuation, but I kinda wanted this one to be a bit “tricky” since it came to me that way. Thank you for sticking with it and giving me feedback.
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Like a magic wand was cast over this poem.
“her magic flavors fertile night
among lightless thickets”
Love this mysterious poem, Barry!
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