This piece, which uses chained hay(na)ku inside, was written for Read Write Poem Prompt # 52: Face Your Fears and Do It With Oomph!

This poem, in essence, is “to be continued”, as I was very recently diagnosed with type II diabetes. It runs in my family. A very prominent member of my family died of complications one month short of her fiftieth birthday because she did not follow doctor’s orders, did not take her insulin, did not watch her sugar intake. When she died in October 2000, she had already had one heart attack, one or two toes amputated, and had been completely blind for five years prior to her death.

When I was diagnosed in September of this year, the first thing I thought of was how she died, and this spectre has been hanging over my head since my diagnosis. How am I facing the fear of going out like she did? Taking control of my blood sugar levels…and writing this poem, which is more or less a transcript of my mind when I began to catalog and reckon with my greatest fear to date. It’s a little different than anything I’ve tried before, so gentle reader, please bear with me as I take you along for the ride.

-Nicole

———————————————–

daylight
has faded
only night remains
a banshee’s song
in my
ears

[this is the end]

and
a man
left alone inside
a vast wilderness
without my
love

[my only friend, the end]

there
will be
no more stories
no more poems
no more
songs

[of our elaborate plans]

you
lay me
low, sugar rivers
of bloodstream madness
emptying into
tissue

[of everything that stands]

steal
my life
steal my skin
and wear it,
coins over
eyes

[no safety or surprise]

crumble
an ancient
paper doll girl
sugar burned skin
missing toes
blind

[i'll never look into your eyes again]

then
early expiration
like mislabeled milk
wicked libations poured
down the
drain

[driver, where you takin' us?]

inside
my genes
this betrayal began
softly, slowly, sharpening
diabetic carnivorous
teeth

[the killer awoke before dawn]

the killer was inside me all along

Written 11/7/08
© 2008 Nicole Nicholson EXCEPT items in italics and brackets, which are excerpted from “The End” and © 1967 The Doors. All Rights Reserved on portions of this work authored by N. Nicholson.

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This triptych poem, also my first triptych chained hay(na)ku, was written for two prompts: Read Write Poem Prompt #50: Gothic (‘Tis the Season) and Poefusion’s Tuesday Title Prompt this week (from Billy Corgan’s book “Blinking with Fists”).

Rather than the old gothic tales we have gleaned so many of our metaphors and cliches from (dark, spooky castles in the middle of nowhere, graveyards, black roses, etc.), I decided to go biblical on your collective poetic asses. This poem, of course, is based on the biblical story of Sodom and Gomorrah.

This triptych poem can be read THREE ways actually, as opposed to two like my other ones. Of course, you can read across, and then down each section. You are also encouraged to read down the columns in all three sections as a third way to read the poem.

WARNING: This poem contains references to violence, sexual assault, and murder. If you are not comfortable with these subjects, I suggest you stop reading now.

If you’d like to read on, then enjoy.

-Nicole

—————————–

Written 10/26/08,10/27/08, and 10/28/08
© 2008 Nicole Nicholson. All Rights Reserved.

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This hay(na)ku chain was written for One Single Impression Prompt 33: Gold. Enjoy.

-Nicole

—————————————————————-
the
noonday sun
distilled into solids

these
children of
Earth emerge, gleaming

at
first, they
are covered in

the
sable dust
of her placenta

then
they’re stolen
from her arms

their
aureate skin
fondled and caressed

then
beaten and
bent into shapes

until
they become
ornate mirrored slaves

to
adorn the
proud, curved necks

of
queens, both
ancient and modern

ask
these children
to speak softly

of
blood worn
on their faces

sweat
splashed across
their primal skins

photographs
of greed
reflected in millions

of
fractures on
their chunky bodies

then
you’ll know
of the sorrow

they
wear amidst
your halcyon celebrations

Written 10/13/08
© 2008 Nicole Nicholson. All Rights Reserved.

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This hay(na)ku chain was written for One Single Impression Prompt #27: Spectacle. If you don’t know about the Jallianwala Bagh massacre (known probably better as the “Amritsar Massacre” in the West), you can read about it here.

-Nicole
——————————————
scattered
bodies and
cries of anguish

men
cut down
like barren trees

Indians
firing upon
Indians by orders

a
cloud of
bullets and chaos

insanity’s
mouth opens
to swallow souls

a
spectacle of
death explodes inside

the
walls of
grand Sikh holiness

have
been violated
and then inscribed

with
the blood
of innocent dead

their
names glow
with slick wetness

they
still scream
from the wall

lest
we forget
this mad massacre

this
spectacle of
unbridled human cruelty

let
us not
forget that blood

underneath
human skin
of any color

still
is red
when unjustly spilled

lest
our minds
become a spectacle

of
heartless evil
and cold indifference

Written 8/30/08
© 2008 Nicole Nicholson. All Rights Reserved.

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-Nicole

——————————————-
the
season of
birth and possibility

within
her body
has passed on

but
she is
far from dead

only
succumbing to
the stillness of

inner
snow-covered
forests and fields

the
quiet of
sparkling solstice solitude

and
springtime’s rise
within her mind

for
the season
of new birth

has
just moved
northward within her

not
disappeared forever –
wisdom now blooms

Written 8/26/08
© 2008 Nicole Nicholson. All Rights Reserved.

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they
huddle, hoping
and tightly clinging

Daddy
soaked with
alcohol and vitriol

screams
thunder and
massive malignant lightning

does
he see
his huddled family

through
the amber
lens of untold

shots
of whiskey
guzzled in pain

this
tight huddle
will soon crumble

beyond
this drunken
Daddy thunder wall

as
Mama fades
into early death

the
sisters wrap
their hands around

each
other’s necks
and choke tightly

and
little brother
fades into distance

Written 8/6/08
© 2008 Nicole Nicholson. All Rights Reserved.


Stumble It!

-Nicole
—————————————-
my
nose could
tell today’s story

it
says that
the gentle breeze
carried the lake’s
cold clean
wetness

and
cast it
beside heavy humid
hot musk and
the air
swelled

the
scents met
and then fucked
mingling madly in
mid-air
collision

their
love child
met up with
the acrid, tangy
smoke of
barbeque

she
wrapped her
arms around him
hip to hip
they danced
gyrating

cavorting
past heavy
sweet cocoa butter
and mild, musty
wet sand
stink

they
collided with
the chilled fruity
tartness of Popsicles
and lemon
ice

and
collapsed beside
the bleeding crispness
of hot fresh
French fry
funk

my
nose didn’t
miss a thing
it told a
much better
story

written sheerly in
hot olfactory
Eros

Written 8/2/08
© 2008 Nicole Nicholson. All Rights Reserved.

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-Nicole
—————————————–
I’ve
avoided your
burning acid eyes

which
could lay
me completely bare

in
two looks
or less – despite

my
trembling trepidation
I cannot help

but
stare secretly
in class while

you
scribble away
and slyly pretend

not
to feel
upon your neck

my
eyes like
long distance fingers

I
wonder now
just how sticky

our
two bodies
would be if

one
day they
happened to meet

Written 7/23/08
© 2008 Nicole Nicholson. All Rights Reserved.

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-Nicole

admissions
of weakness
become sticky labels
attaching to skin
covering it
completely

you
soon disappear
beneath the paper
and gummy glue
then some take
up sharpies
and

write
insults upon
your labeled self
all other see
are those
epithets

which
sink beneath
the labels into
your very flesh
you become them
you could
succumb

to
them and
your name transform
into a class
of dysfunction
defining

you
simply by
your admitted weakness
this is why
people might
avoid

sharing
the very
things that could
break them in
everyone else’s
eyes

Written 7/23/08
© 2008 Nicole Nicholson. All Rights Reserved.

Stumble It!

This chain of regular and reverse hay(na)ku was written for Poefusion’s Monday Mural Prompt (the mural is above). Enjoy.

-Nicole
——————————————————-
one
night I
had a dream
I walked the
streets of
Memphis

electric
buzz twang
and sandpaper song
slithered into my
open eager
ears

and
wrapped themselves
around my heart
they pulled me
to Beale
Street

and
that’s when
I saw him
written in neon
the lingua
franca

of
honky-tonk
blues and jazz
as he sat
on the
steps

he
wove a
guitar string tapestry
which cradled the
full Memphis
moon

and
brought it
down to me
then he vanished
into the
night

I
was left
still holding that
moon in my
bare cold
hands

I
stored it
inside of my
heart-shaped box
it still glows
casting Memphis
moonlight

on
neon wishes
and musical dreams
where I gladly
sing the
blues

Written 7/13/08
© 2008 Nicole Nicholson. All Rights Reserved.

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