Quill of Mnemosyne

@sonnetsmith.bsky.social

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Welsh writer and Poet posting verse, and other writing. #WritingCommunity Writer of #Dailyhaikews Host of #WildWalkPrompt, and part of #PoetsOfDoom https://linktr.ee/quillofmnemosyne

It's head adorned with knife tipped spears It's eyes burn with the fires of hell. One awful belch, and flame appears With terrible sulfuric smell. The Grillibuff, all thick and toned With shoulders broad, and biceps stacked Sparks terror everywhere it roams Leaves rumours of it's cruel attacks. But Grillibuff on goatish feet, Far softer than its looks suggest Seeks not the taste of human meat And always has just one request. "No, please don't run," he'll sadly bleat As people scarper in his wake Not monster, just a magic sheep Whose loneliness is hard to take.
My happy place lies in a world of cages, of bars enclosing wide open spaces to give the illusion of freedom, wishing we didn't have to take it. It dwells in hope for the future, in defiance of the insistence of destruction, a place where beauty, in its purest form, thrives uncompromised. Free from airbrushed paint and plastic, shown how it is, that we need to fight against the drastic devastation the we ourselves provide. My joy lies on the front lines Conservation hub, Drowning in diversity Safe inside the zoo.
It sneaks in through the cracks, unseen And lingers, unsuspected Exactly where your bed had been The last time that you checked it With pillows plumped, and mattress firm Its mimicry - dead ringer The keenest eye can scarce discern A lurking Duvelgänger It sits and waits, sometimes for days Then in they'll stumble, yawning. Its unsuspecting, drowsy prey Won't wake again next morning.
It opens only once a year, A portal cross dimensions, Then hoards of tiny fish appear And through they flood, in thousands. Their journey starts in distant seas Whose harsh, well salted waters Have never managed to appease These infant travellers. They soon decide they've had enough Of what the sea delivers So flick their tails and power off In search of lakes and rivers And so they come, these Eelsekai To live in fresher pastures Until a year has passed them by When then (those still uncaptured) Will journey back, to Ocean blue Return to find their wormhole And cross back, to the world they knew And new fish start the cycle.
There is nothing quite as sweet As the taste of Carribun meat Plus, that hint of added spice Takes the pallet by surprise. It's natural fieryness is due To its biggest source of food, Jalapeños long and green (They give its fluffy coat a sheen) Just one problem is, this treat Loves the taste of human meat Small and cute it might appear, Its antlers (large as any deer) Could rip your body limb from limb As it, with razor teeth digs in To your barely beating heart (And every other body part.) Though heavenly might be the taste Of Carribun, please stay your haste To hunt this little fiery beast!
I'll stare for hours, yet no hint of black Will stir, to scrawl itself across my page, Ink so dry that all the words will crack I'll watch the wind cast ripples, there and back Across the green tinged surface of the waves, I'll stare for hours, yet no hint of black My blue, and well bruised mind under attack, His soul confined to cruelest kind of cage With ink so dry that all the words will crack Silver must soon emerge around this stack Of clouds, to start a new creative age I'll stare for hours yet no hint of black Grey shall be gone, for colour to flood back And tears of joy that day shall wipe away The ink so dry that all the words will crack And it shall come, an end to what I lack, To put me back upon poetic stage. I'll stare for hours yet no hint of black Ink, so dry that all the words will crack
As Marble, granite, rock, and stoic stone, Fashioned into upright pillars be, To hold the roof on Temples grand in Rome Or Greece and honour sovereign deity; Thusly have thou, since day my life began, Such hoisted me and held me off the ground; Thy selfless love caused me to be the man I am today, and now my thanks abound. And so shall I a column for thee make, Built not in stone but parchment ink and quill, To hold you name aloft and never break Apart, or bend its knee to time's cruel will. Mum I preserve thy Love in words for all; Immune to time, your mem'ry ne'er to fall.