She’s Watching There (day 2334)

When the winter darkness
Comes from the deepest hearth
She’s watching there
She’s watching there
She’s in her lair
In the deep North Sea
With daggers hanging
Crows hovering
With spells brewing
She’s watching there
When your soul is calling
And begging for mercy
In ten thousand cold laments
When your hair is matted
And clothes are rumpled
And food is cold
She’s watching there
In the deep North Sea
When winter darkness
And frozen sea spray
Retreats into your heart
She’s watching there
Cold ice Queen
North Sea Queen.

North Sea Queen VI by Doreen Broers
North Sea Queen VI by Doreen Broers (ig)

Crow’s Eyes (day 1718)

I remember when a crow flew
Into my eyes of fear
Leaving behind a little ghost
Who spoke words I did not want to hear.

But as I sat and steeped my tea
I could not gain my truth,
So little by little
An angry cry
Was heard above the rumble.

A cry that was not for pure peace,
A cry not from a babe,
My cry was loud and deliberate
My beak’d been getting black.

For when the grace of tempest’s blast
Ceased all ’round my hearth,
I whipped into such fury as
A devil burning brightly at my feet
Two eyes locked on mine, forevermore.

Wrinkled Sheets (day 1322)

When twilight circles my mind like crows and shadows at the hour of feast
I wish for silence, a thousand feet deep.
A silence so lasting that breath trails off into
A frozen pane of windowless reflections,
And the moon clears it’s sleepy eyes
As it gazes over sharp backs of rocky mountains.

Stars must look different from up there, shining so bright.
I have always imagined they have different colors
As the temperature drops.

But from a thousand feet deep I can find only shadows.
I crawl upon bloody knees and fight for my own feast
Among crows and worms who, at this intimate an angle,
Scream like black night and wrinkled sheets.

I pause for a moment struggling to understand
Black lines that criss-cross my hands.
Black arcs that cap my fingernails, digging deep.
I find twilight again as thought slips from my conscience
And incoherent noise picks up again.

Hallows of my Skull (day 1200)

I carved your name into the hallows of my skull
Like a safety razor bringing back memories.
I was a Tiffany lamp casting butterflies
About the light pink empty walls of my mother’s wall.

Leaving the fly buzzing about my shifty hairs
I focused my every ounce on the skulls
Which stared back at me with unwavering attention.
It was here I lost my nerve to the valiant stork.

However, I did not float with green lantern’s cast shadow,
I dipped my soul below the line of respite
To gasp the warm air and feel the baby cacti
Rustle about closed loops of my hallowed skull.

Safety bird whistles cast dubious high pitched whispers
Towards my groaning and croaking ways,
And as I rested my wrists on the folded wooden crow
The sporadic clicking calmed my beating heart.

Push Me (day 1151)

Push me.
Push twilight hours into dark corners
That swim amongst nevermore, nevermore.
Push my symbols into vertical black lines
Twisting about blurred vision scapes.
Push elephant hoof raindrops
Deep within my exposed and crackling skin.
Push out spring bloom’s beauty
Like a healthy garden explodes.
And if the camping hustlers deny
Engulfing catalytic tremors,
Then I shall be forced with all my might
To push my crows to vigor.