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Pen to Print

6 hours ago

Every Tuesday we will be sharing a poem from one of our wonderful Pen to Print and Write On! contributors. We hope you enjoy!**Maiden, Mother, Crone by Madeleine F WhiteMaiden, Mother, CroneMaiden, Mother, CroneMoon waxing and waning, I’m never alone.The faster I go, the faster it follows –I turn to face my tomorrows.I am. Pain tells me I am.Knowledge of how my body fits where it shouldn’t,already some bits floatingin the bath where flesh flashes; A gurgling laugh. Thumb in mouth. Plugged.I am. Child’s plumped flesh, pleasant, present.Thumb in mouth. Plugged.Silver-fished jumping to winged-hope imaginingsmoving beyond the drowning. Floating silence caught in a radiator’s hum. Gurgled murmurings cut through water-logged memories.Desire thrums. Another place. Stuffing of face…Sick-making, all-eating sweet. Flesh waxing, spirit waning till thumb unplugged the Maiden rises and despite surfeit of flesh, as a fleet-footed deer she evades the spears of unmaking. The world turns.Surprise! Maiden, Mother, CroneMaiden, Mother, CroneMoon waxing and waning, I’m never alone.The faster I go, the faster it follows –I turn to face my tomorrows. I am. Pain tells me I am.She-wolf now I rest a while, but not long.Plastering my red-painted lupine smile across moon-soaked streetsI hope the disguise will allow me to pad past silently.But memories shriek, until I roar.Claim my place as Mother, not meat.My cubs will eat. I demand the earth swallows the shadows that follow.I will not lie on my back for a tickle.I am become Bitch, but not for long.Canine breath exhaling, breathes life into the serpent I’d curled round my soul to keep their world whole.A Mother’s fangs break the skin.Upwards and in. Winding, binding, reminding, finding – I am.Consuming, colluding, creating – I can.Breathing fire where there was noneI’m released from the safe-dark Pain ceases. I come. Maiden, Mother, CroneMaiden, Mother, CroneMoon waxing and waning, I’m never alone.The faster I go, the faster it follows –I turn to face my tomorrows. I am. Anger has consumed.An inferno of flame banishes pain.‘Be still my daughter.’ No longer lamb to the slaughter.Mutton now. But mutton is tough.It must be boiled enough to render it digestible.I remain indigestiblepreferring flame to water. The same words, the same promisesSerpent-encased-self dragoning into a world unmade and remade.Breaking the consistency of constancy withthe power of stillness, entropy’s womb. My womb has shrivelled as I have grown –Blood’s call dripping from incisors bleached by time,beckoning me from charnel houses and ossuaries.Path strewn by bones from those like me. Flesh fails, spirit quails and yet I walk.Beware. These grey hairs you see are snakes. They will turn you to stone.I am Crone. Maiden, Mother, CroneMaiden, Mother, CroneMoon waxing and waning, I am called home.(c) Madeleine F White ...

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Write Start! Write, Publish & Make Money From Your Book with Silvano Griffith-FrancisSaturday 17 October, 10am-5pmGot a book idea but don’t know what to do next? Learn how to write, publish and make money from your book in this practical masterclass.Find out more and book tickets: www.eventbrite.co.uk/e/write-start-write-publish-make-money-from-your-book-east-london-tickets-20... ...

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