the sky is falling
I can not unhear the muse
whose whisper has become
a banshee wailing unbearably close to my ear.
She’ll not be ignored,
standing in the doorway with hands on hips,
hopscotching though the kitchen where my coffee sits.
At night she fills my head with
cymbals and untuned strings.
It is the nightmare music of my dreams.
Dawn brings no silence.
Even the summer breeze wrecks her hair
as it straps birds to trees and they cry out.
If I write this poem – she screams –
WRITE ME! WRITE ME!
Will the pieces of the sky stop falling?
10 thoughts on "the sky is falling"
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Know this sentiment all too well!
I dreamed in symphonies last night. Clearly the banshee is trying to get my attention.
wow I relate to this
when June is over
it takes a while
before the poetry vibes
go silent
That was my exact thought when I started writing this poem.
At least we’re all swelling in insanity together! … This one is nice Alissa. Love the banshee image. Feels really rich. And all too relatable. And the strapping of birds to trees. Clever.
Emily, thank you. Is the Banshee real? or just an image … One must ask. 🙂 Thank you for the comments.
So relatable! Even the summer breeze wrecks her hair
as it straps birds to trees and they cry out. – love this.
Thank you!
Great poem, Alissa – such memorable images.
Thank you!