Spit(e) and ashes — words.
A pull of liquid fire flows
as worms inside my veins
I’m a cuddling want,
a wishful night, a silky corpse.
I’m the black prose
you scribbled down in haste
the clotted blood,
the screams, the dreams.
I’m an old man singing,
slightly out of tune,
of breadcrumbs dropped,
the brittle trail you lost.
Hunter on Horseback, Redcovering the Trail by Gustave Courbet
I’m linking up with 60 words to toads where Mama Zen also gives us a wordlist of ultraconserved words.. I have used a few.
—
June 26, 2015
Björn Rudbergs writings 
TIght little piece bjorn.
There are some pathes it is better we not take, and there are those we lose, for whatever reason. Hopefully they don’t haunt us like that song, of the prose that sneaks up on us in the dark.
I am nuts over this poem. Really incredible work. Love this:
“a silky corpse.
I’m the black prose
you scribbled down in haste”
I love this.
I am slow but I am now following. I like your style.
Thanks for visiting.
In every way stunning
Wonderful imagery, and an intriguing story outlined.
You are truly the master, Bjorn–stunning imagery.
Fab! This challenge has me scratching my head but you’ve conquered it for sure.
Some excellent metaphors in this poem. My favorite stanza is the last one…and I wonder where the breadcrumbs lead.
A cascade of haunting metaphors expressing the dark depths of human regret and thus, an iconic literary theme: the trail lost (the road not taken, the shattered dream, the life not lived, and so on and so on.) Very, very cool!
I think the speaker might be a lost poem, talking to the writer who couldn’t quite hold onto the words.
Very eerie, the picture you picked goes very well with the character I imagined reciting this in a slightly raspy voice.
The use of “I am” in this poem has me riveted…really intense. Great poem, Bjorn.
These paths are going where I don’t want to be. Right away I was liking your poem, “worms inside my veins” got me going.
That line reminded me of a book called “Drood” by Dan Simmons which is his take on Charles Dicken’s unfinished book of the same title. Drood would control his subject by injection of worms under his control. The worms would then make it into his victim’s brain.
..
“of breadcrumbs dropped,
the brittle trail you lost.” All your lines are great and I love these two.
Dark, gritty piece. I like it!
Your dark palette has produced a singularly beautiful portrait.
that 2nd verse is especially well turned, Bjorn ~
Just ‘wow’ … so much here and loving that last stanza
It appears your style is evolving and I find it impressive.
One of my all time favorites of yours, Bjorn–really stellar. I especially liked..’…I’m a cuddling want,
a wishful night, a silky corpse’
That is my kind of man. ;_) Very neat detail from Courbet you chose, also–I love the brooding brownness of his work.
Wow. That was just beautiful. Loved it.
the pathos in this piece is strong though the poem is a short one
much love…
dark fairytale of a poem. strong. beautiful. dangerous. love it.