by Lena Vanelslander
Entangle me in your passion
Take my blood and sign your masterpiece
From the alpha till the omega
Paint the waters deep
Let your finger be the brush
And my body the curtain
Slide along the curves
Of desires (un)certain
Till I surrender
conquer!
surrender ...
and shiver for love's innuendo.
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Lena Vanelslander, who is one of my favorite poets and who follows this blog under the name "Demeter," swam many waters. History, Comparative Culture Analysis, Languages, Mythology, Literature, Poetry, too many to sum up. After a life of tribulations the turning point came in her mid twenties: she started to write, actively, poetry in English. Her melancholic and darkminded nature colour her poems to an individual signature in both time and space.
She's been published in the Stray Branch, Savage Manners, the Delinquent and The Sylvan Echo. Her first chapbook ‘Ma Chanson de Rien du Tout’ has been released in August this year. Her first book of poetry, Quills of Fire (written with Marilyn Campiz) will appear in November 2009. When not writing fascinating and beautiful poems, she also profiles writers as a contributing editor for Gloom Cupboard () and editor for Outsider Writers .
I asked Lena to submit her favorite of her poems, and tell us about it. Here's what she had to say about "Painted red."
Free verse, as always, represents freedom in expression to me and ‘Painted Red’ is an excellent example … To make the body an artwork and paint it with the blood of the writer spoke to my unconscious imagination. I hope you enjoy the growth and train of thoughts in the poems as much as I did.
Here, too, are the poems that inspired Painted red:
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Untitled
by Lena Vanelslander.
There used to be a place like this
Where all was fine, where all was peace.
I'm bleeding
Make me an artwork of it
I'm cold
Shed your skin to keep me warm
I'm desolate
Touch my body,
Along the hills and valleys
And make it flourish with your breath and skin.
Make it an oasis in the deserted corridors
A secret place where you and I can meet ...
A place like this ...
Where all is fine, where all is at peace.
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Artwork
by Elizabeth Kate Switaj
I tried to make a painting with your blood
but all the platelets fled
in horror
of my whalebone & horsehair
I tried
to leave them their escape
trajectory
& etch
words & hills & valleys
into that shallow splash
It turned into an ocean
and raged, erased
my words & lines
& then my mind
& then my fingers’ memories of how to hold a pen
Want to read more of Lena's work? Click here to get started.
Thanks to Ms. Switaj, as well, for letting Lena send me her poem and put it here, too. Read more of her poems at Daughter of The Ring Of Fire.
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And now to confirm what the post title says, this is the last Sunday's Poem ever, but that's only because Sunday's poem is going to be moving to Friday, so after today it'll be Friday's Poem, so if you're a poet who wants to submit one, send it to me at thetroublewithroy[at]yahoo.com. Put "Friday's Poem" in the subject line, so I don't accidentally delete it. I don't have time to read all my emails, you know -- I'm too busy helping a variety of members of the Nigerian royal family move their money to this country.
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Starting next sunday: Nonsportsmanlike Conduct! makes its return... of sorts.
2 comments:
Thank you B. :)!
I thought your poems were a great way to end the Sunday's poem. I'll keep following your new stuff on your site, though! And keep reading for Friday's Sunday's Poem.
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