In A Quarantine State Of Mind Poem, by Melvin James, at My poetic side

in a quarantine state of mind

hiding beneath the foxfire from the bee sting

as the shadow on my windows lung

spreads slowly through the callous of my hide;

with cold wall screams

clutching tightly the echoes of my days year

I bear my soul to the white horse drips

pounding my ceilings shores

draining the carpet of my slow crawl blood;

once more as cups the darkness of the face

the thin laced mother

smothers the swelling on my chest

as the shoes of the heavy horses mane

tramples the golden vampires treasured breast

and suckles instead

the endless pointing mustard peppers stake;

through the cracks of the midnight glare

brassing the taps on my doors

starbright and weaving fingers for the silk worms kin

how I have aged with the marrow in a dead seed well

spinning with the four walls of my grave;

am at home with the florist in her red onion dress

now blessed with the fourth seasons trowel

fathering a clarinet child

farming the strings of her harp

in a quarantine state of mind

spinning with the four walls of my grave;

Coyote August 5th, 2021 15:33
This reads like a soliloquy of a modern day McBeth! Stark, brilliant imagery in every line and emotion that leaps from the page and tugs at the heart. Really loved it.
- aDarkerMindAugust 5th, 2021 16:09
  thank you Coyote.....
  very kind comment and very much appreciated;
L. B. Mek August 6th, 2021 03:50
'hiding, beneath the foxfire from the bee sting
as the shadow
on my windows lung, spreads slowly'

'I bear my soul to the white horse drips
pounding my ceilings shores
draining the carpet of my slow crawl'

'am at home with the florist
in her red onion dress
now blessed with the fourth seasons trowel
fathering a clarinet child, farming
the strings of her harp
in a quarantine state of mind'

'how I have aged
with the marrow in a dead seed well
spinning with the four walls of my grave;'

'once more as cups the darkness of the face
the thin laced mother
smothers, the swelling on my chest'

(forgive my rudeness, dear Poet
I couldn't help, rearrange your lines
to showcase and Highlight
that defiant - Luminous: hope
determined to still shine Bright
in-Spite of the bleak Night, dripping
from that Wholehearted scarlet
of your poetry's Resplendent: Art!)
'what a Talent'!
keep Questing, keep Soaring dear Poet
thank you! for sharing

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In A Quarantine State Of Mind