Tuesday, December 27, 2016


I've words kept in amber
saved for some later
day when I'm braver

and rice paper rubbings
of an epitaph left
on my living stone.

I've embroidered skin,
blown glass eyes; my teeth
are polished black bone.

I'm a scrapbook soul
at the mercy
of stories untold.

For The Tuesday Platform at Real Toads


brudberg said...

The memory of amber is awesome... great metaphor to pull me in.

Kerry O'Connor said...

You make the macabre motifs sound so beautiful. I love the 'epitaph left on my living stone' but each element is unique.

S said...

Gorgeous. Love the third stanza.

wkkortas said...

Tight as a snare drum, but evocative and wistful as well. That's no small feat.

thotpurge said...

Love the scrapbook soul.

kaykuala said...

A macabre story well-documented in a 'scrapbook' hopefully not frequently re-told!


J Cosmo Newbery said...

I do like the idea of a scrapbook soul.

Debi Swim said...

I'm in awe of this one,

Kim Russell said...

I love this, Mama Zen! I am a fan of amber, especially when there is something inside - words especially. I think most poets are scrapbook souls.

grapeling said...


Marian said...

Ah, the epitaph on the living stone... geez, must avoid that.
Happy New Year, Mama Zen!