Feeding my pets

Daylight keeps demons of mine barely at bay
Oh, how their jowls, salivating ready to gnaw
at my intestines, my liver, teasing, and play
with my prudence patiently waiting to claw

the flesh from my bones & grow from my fears
I try to pretend that at dusk everything’s fine
But later at night, I water stars with my tears
as the demons capture my dreams and twine

me in spider-silk yarn, tenderly trying
to drown me in brine I’ve given the stars
and wrapped in my bedsheets lazily dying
I know that my monsters are nothing but scars

from my past, pinpointing faults and regrets
I’ve kept every serpent, mistakes are my pets.

Today Punam hosts at dVerse and she wishes us to take a line from a friend’s poetry and use it in our own. Please ask for permission and link back to the post of your own.

I used a line from Punam”s poem Just Being which has been italicized in my sonnet above. If anyone wants to use any of my poems to link back to dVers I hereby grant you permission to do so.

February 28, 2023

13 responses to “Feeding my pets”

“mistakes are my pets” I can identify with that! What a deeply dark sonnet you have crafted in such a short time. That line meshed so well with yours. Thank you, Björn.

Björn Rudberg (brudberg) February 28, 2023 at 23:06 · · Reply →

I enjoyed using that line, and I think the meter worked well into a sonnet.

A dark sonnet, Björn, which sends a chill up my spine. I love the rhymes and the way you’ve played with words and enjambment to create a sense of demonic playfulness. I especially love the lines:
‘I try to pretend that at dusk everything’s fine
But later at night, I water stars with my tears
as the demons capture my dreams and twine
me in spider-silk yarn’,
as well as the internal rhyme of ‘twine/brine’.
Bad night by Goya is an excellent choice for illustrating this poem.

I love how you characterize the demons as “playing with [your] prudence” and definitely understand how familiar they become at some point, and perhaps most importantly understanding their origin stories. Excellent poem.

Richly dark and atmospheric, and yet, slightly playful. I can imagine Poe writing something like this, to amuse himself while waiting for the muse to come calling … or perhaps, crawling. Or perhaps Shel Silverstein too 😉 And yes, great choice of complementary image.

A dark sonnet indeed….complete with spider-silk yarn!

… And this is the one I choose to read just as I go up to bed… how friendly is that? (I do agree that you have a masterful way with the sonnet form.)

Fortunately I like spiders these days, and even demons can dole out wisdom in the dream-time (I trust). And my mistakes – which are legion – can go and sit in the their kennels tonight. Sweet dreams!