Mausoleum

The graveyard rings a bell of blossoms, the

White and pink lush bonnet of spring.

Dainty lace embroidery dances with the daisies;

Songbird, will you sing for me?

A gentle tweet of yellowed parchment, 

Carried away with the honeysuckle breeze,

I will remember etched words savored on my cotton tongue

This morning that smelled of freshly laundered sheets.

From my bed of soaking ink,

I look to the sky that pours flowing water streams.

These stains of violet bathe in permanent veins

That spread like wine to bagged white bread.

Withered buds retreat to their bruised homes,

Hardened by the cutting arctic chill.

The hand of the phantom rattles skeleton graves, for

Bones bloom in a final dusty plague.

This foul perfume, rancid to the nostrils, 

Has tainted the honeysuckle breeze for far too long;

Fragile little songbird, 

Why do you lie broken on the ground?

Author's Note

I wrote this straight through, so I apologize for any mistakes.
I like writing mostly because I can disguise anything I want behind words. I would appreciate feedback.

Reviews

[Neva Flores Smith - Cha..]

Why does everything feel dead when life is all around? Excellent piece Hayley

[.........]

The first thought I had when I read the title was from Cemetery Drive by MCR, haha. Okay, well, this is probably my favorite poem you've written. I like the style of this, and although it is extremely descriptive, it tells a story that is dark and gloomy and somber, acceptance somehow nestled in there, too.

I'm going to wing it here and tell you what comes to mind as I read this:

"the graveyard rings a bell of blossoms"- this made me think maybe that something is dead, you're giving it a rest; you're putting it to sleep. And sometimes that's what we must do. I also see that same idea in the lines, "bones bloom in a final dusty plague". "final"- the last time you'll give it attention, it's dying?

"I will remember etched words savored on my cotton tongue"- This makes me think that you have been taught a valuable lesson that you won't neglect to remember. Although you seem to be letting go of soething from the past, you are still keeping that little thought in your mind never to make the same mistake twice. It reminds me of that quote, "Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me." --- but "savored on my cotton tongue"- that threw me off at first, but then i started thinking about it more. Cotton could symbolize innocence, or, on the other side of the coin, maybe you're being vindicated?

"From my bed of soaking ink"-- To me, that means that you are surrounded by your own words, your own thoughts and feeling and nothing else and you "look to the sky that pours flowing water streams"- I think that symbolizes the environmental (or what you see on a daily basis) inspiration that causes you to have those feelings.

"These stains of violet bathe in permanent veins"- Whatever happened will never be lost, and you know that, but, again, I wonder, "like wine to bagged white bread"..you chose something pure, something white again, maybe you're hinting that, again, it's not your fault?

"Withered buds retreat to bruised homes"-- whatever it is that harmed you on the inside is going to back to where it belongs, it's processed, it's done, you're ready to push it back to where it came from. "Hardened by the cutting arctic chill" makes me think that maybe you are just exhausted from things, you have dealt with it for far too long. I'm also seeing that by, "This foul perfume, ( ...) has tainted the honeysuckle breeze for far too long". You seem tired and worn.

For my favorite part though, I loved the reoccurrence of the songbird. In the first stanza, you are asking it to "sing for you". Maybe you're asking for the pain to be heard, the words to be spoken. it's almost as if you're asking yourself, or possibly someone very close to you, to speak to you. I see it as looking far into something and saying, "if you were to sing to me right now, what would you say? what do you feel the deepest, the most?" (kinda like in Walk The Line,

*clip*

"Or... would you sing somethin' different. Somethin' real. Somethin' *you* felt. Cause I'm telling you right now, that's the kind of song people want to hear. That's the kind of song that truly saves people. It ain't got nothin to do with believin' in God, Mr. Cash. It has to do with believin' in yourself. "



...and the way you bring it back in, "Fragile little songbird,/ why do you lie broken on the ground?" The songbird is strong in symbolism, and I feel like the first time the songbird is mentioned and the second time are well-connected, as if they could have gone together like a puzzle.

[Robin]

this has an innocence that echoes off the hard reality hiding in your words .

[LA Lorena]

This is so sad, so melancholy...you always use the most beautiful phrasing and language, and it never fails to evoke emotion. Beautifully crafted work.

[Seshat Nidaba]

You always haunt us with your words, you could write about the most mundane thing in the world and I believe it would still have that dramatic quality. Dusky and ancient and waiting to be felt.

1. Withered buds retreat to their bruised homes - you capture something of the death-squeezed essence of life everytime.