a revery of orchids said, Princess Haiku

Annabelle and Eddie by Diane Dehler

Annabelle and Eddie

Annabelle Lee looks for her image in sea water.

A teardrop of blood forms on her full upper lip where she has bitten it.

She feels the sea churning around her bare feet and legs,

“What am I doing here,” she asks.

 

A biting wind howls and tears up the edges of her gauzy black nylon dress.

This dress was an opiate of yours, darling Eddie.

-Black water, black rain, white fingers running up her spine alongside the crypt.

The grave words- words engraved on the heart.

Eddie, what are we doing out here at night, she asks, bewildered by fear and wind.

No answer.

Are we awake or asleep?

Eddie, the sepulchre is cold and I have been sleeping in this black crypt forever.

Yes, I always try to prettify things but still the crypt is dark and I am cold.

My tears seep onto the floor of the vault.

The pool of water rising at my feet begins to fill the tomb with tears of ocean that rise and rise.

At high tide this is how we die.

One minute you are alive and the other you have to live in a tomb forever because a poet

has immortalized you.

And there are no second chances so enjoy it while you can.

You can’t be sorry and you can never go out into the sun again.

It is just a black night of sea; rows of breakers that churn and crash against the mind.

The hellish world where there are only tormented thoughts for company.

Where am I?

Why dead, Annabelle.

I know this by the sound of your crying, Eddie.

You promised nothing would ever separate us, except my white skin.

My death separated us even though your fingers traced a poem on the curve of my lower back writing the words; my Annabelle Lee forever.

Skin is still between us and there are days I regret this.

-Bones, fragments, residual thoughts and nerve tissue; the brain’s repose.

-The erotic breath of love between us.

.

-You lied, Eddie.

We are not one breath.

I am a ghost; a shadow cast by a lunar eclipse.

The prospects of waking up in a tomb and having nowhere to go are dismaying.

Eddie, you encountered me recently at a séance and your lips on mine were electrifying.

I remember your black curls and your hands on my breasts on our way down into the liquid center.

Enter the ocean, the dark angels tell me.

The first thing you do Annabelle...  is you just let go.

You used to feed me black poppies for my pain and now in torment, I long more for your lips.

  

I long for being loved by night.

Kiss me again that I may die.

That the eyes of my soul will close.

Enter me with sheer magnetic force that creates a poem and sets the spirit free.

Rows of breakesr churn and crash against my mind in this hellish crypt where I have only tormented thoughts for company.

Eddie, the crypt is so cold.  

Diane Dehler

First published by Cultural Weekly, June, 2014 

a solitude of white orchids said Princess Haiku

Midnight Garden

reprint from March 23, 2007



The full moon shines
with all its might,
drenching my garden
with mystic light...............

L. 11 years old

Flowers such as "Queen of the Night" bloom only in hours of darkness and belong to my sister's midnight garden. They open pale eyes under the light of the moon, when the rest of the world is sleeping. Their perfume is more intoxicating than ordinary flowers for they belong to dream and mystery. One of the night flowers; Cereus greggi blooms only for one midsummer's night each year. The flower exudes its exquisite perfume as night falls, then closes forever with the first touch of dawn. There are people who are like that too; special people who in a unique moment touch us with ephemeral beauty.

Diane Dehler, "Petal"

Petal

December 1, 2013 at 6:35pm

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Opulent lips and red blood.
Microscopic details through a bright lens of moonlight.
Peering through a ghostly obelisk your reflection.
History, desire still warm

You said that you were coming.
A night naked of black wings.
Kiss prints left up and down milky skin an interior map.
When I first called out your name, Petal…
Beginning of the world.

Diane Dehler



Diane Dehler, is an American poet known for her postmodern lyricism who has been nominated for a Pushcart Award 2014.  She received a degree from the Creative Writing Program at San Francisco State University, receiving the Outstanding Student of the Year Award. Contact her at: princesshaiku@gmail.com.

http://www.theapplicant.org/site/2013/12/01/petal/


"Petal" was published today in "The Applicant: A Kathmandu Based Online Journal."


http://www.theapplicant.org/site/2013/12/01/petal/

the heart pauses in the words of Abdellatif Laabi

I was perusing a poetry section in the San Francisco Public Library last week and happened upon, The World's Embrace," by Abdellatif Laabi. You know when you have read great poetry for the words linger even after the book is closed.

I would like
to leave my closed room now
and find Saida Menebhi
at the street corner
more alive than when she was alive
holding the hand of a little girl
who would be her mirror image
And the little girl
would give me a black orchid
saying: This if for the pet's pain

Abdellatif Laabi

Author's note: A activist, fellow prisoner. Died in 1977 during a hunger strike.

This poem gives me pause to consider the one in my life that gave me a black orchid.

a pale flower said, Princess Haiku

a pale flower infused with the most perfect passion.... Love is in the clarity of the moment. These poem fragments are my imperfect gift...

my only destination is beauty said, Princess Haiku

This cluster of orchids bedazzles the mind as well as the eyes and I captured it for eternity.

a garden that time does not know said, Princess Haiku

lost in whiteness of winter, said Princes Haiku

welcome new Era, said Princess Haiku

A To Do List for a new Era

1) shake the bells for a new era has come
2) put the tea kettle on and brew the Mayan tea
3) give solstice flowers to all who will have them
4) make merry all day for time has not ended

a consolation of art, said Princess Haiku

Today is a sad day for everyone affected by the loss of innocent lives at Newtown and I offer this art as a consolation.