Lycanthropy

tie your own hands together

and repeat after me:

 

the little piggy did not

find its way home

 

Burned glass and broken tongues--

            we all fall down

 

into the fiery stream of

consciousness where the trout

speak Latin and mermaids

recite excerpts from the Iliad.

 

We are carried like berries

in the intestine-winding stream to the shore

chiseled from wolf-bone.

 

The moon once hung herself

here--turned white and forgot

how to speak:

so now we howl for it.

 

Reviews

[JohnnyMagrinho]

"where trout speak Latin and mermaids
recite excerpts from the Iliad."

It makes me think of the golden fish, swimming in endless circles, as to symbolise peace from all animals to the others. And the mermaids a false prophet. An illusion. A siren of misinterpretation. A metamorphosis from the real to the illusory.

The rest of the poem is nicely written and well-crafted but that line stands out to me as to have more meaning than any of the others.

Within language we express ourselves, how we express that language is how we define ourselves, and that being said, trout speaking Latin amongst the scales of Iliad inspired mermaids is rather poignant. There is more here than meets the eye.

I wonder, what do you believe? What do you see when you look at the world? Because to say the stream of consciousness is a fiery one is rather a bold, vivid unforgiving statement to make. You are awake. You are fighting the current. You are with those trout speaking Latin. You are ensnared by the wisp of a bewitching mermaid. You are lost to the current you try to swim against.

And it's fiery. Very much alive. Like a torture. And confusion in this maelstrom is rife, rife like a birth.

I like this message you have sent out.

[eglantine]

Thank you very much for taking time to write me a wonderful review. It's always very nice to hear back comments from other poets.

As for what I believe in? That's a very philosiphical question I could really dive into a nice conversation on a screened in front porch nestled on a pile of floor cusions while the sky plays vinyl. There is so much to believe in: the arch of a feather, the blend of a horizon, the beating of your own heart. When I look at the world, I see it just like any other person walking past on the street, I guess I just see within it as well, or at least I think I do, I could just be insane as well :)

[JewelsIsabella]

i thought of some magical wonderland with unicorns and such. It sounds weird but i thought of that...it was great!!

[That_Girl]

The first part is almost song-like... interesting subject. I like that you wrote about shifting and the fact that it didn't feel cliche or ridiculous. It was smooth. Nice.

[eglantine]

Thanks :)

[allie_arrowz]

this is a great poem. every line is very sharp, and your imagery is great "moon once hung itself"
but for some reason i just don't believe you.
and i'm not sure how to elaborate on that.

[Shmoke-Sifted Heftlande..]

I get this...IDK how to respond exactly, but I get it...maybe I'll just howl inwardly til my black hole heart creates a galaxy

[dukovan]

GOOD review.

[Rosalind Gale]

The first piece I have read in a long time that uses animal shape-shifting (or belief as one as animal) as a basis for creativity. This I like very much; for the very fact that you even thought to do so. This to me is the most important thing as it shows deftness of imagination, a sense that you the writer are emerged in that world, one way or another - that you are looking, feeling, and sensing more than just what is around you, but what may also be inside you - inside another 'you' in a way, the other 'you' that as yet perhaps remains dormant.
-xx-

[SandraBear<33]

its a nice poem but i diddnt exactly understand all of the words... its my fault im preety little. but other that that its good. : )

[afra]

awwww lovely ...good job