Author: poetryfest

Halloween is near
The Ghosts and Ghouls watching
everything I do.

It cowers in the corner,
newly born.
I turn my spite-soaked back,
riddled with resentment
and pull the thin veil
to sink beneath its cover.
I will not watch it crawl,
but it breathes,
a shadow
at the edge of my own
threatening to merge.
It waits, as I do
for nothing
while I ignore its cries
and mine.
And I turn to stone
silently refusing
the darkness at my feet.
~
It screams
a piercing shrill
that grips my core.
It pokes and presses
every bruise,
clawing at my skin
with high-pitched scratches.
Enraged, I seize it.
A thunderous wrath
echoes within,
bubbling in the chambers
of my worn-out heart.
Relentless waves
crash with intent
to swallow
as a storm unleashes
its fury.
~
Fear consumes,
as the burning truth
nears the brink.
Boiling rage
simmers
to a helpless
desperation.
I plead for reprieve,
a momentary pause
in overwhelming pain.
Offering promises,
a compromise…
myself.
I wait
tossing pennies
into an overflowing well,
and watch
as my wishes spill.
~
Rain cascades
from hollow black eyes,
as its touch
pierces my chest.
And at last
the dam
breaks…
flooding the space
with the pent-up poison
that’s been swelling within.
I trade my veil
for a heavy blanket
of fog
as hope is smothered.
Color dulls to gray,
and I surrender
to the haze.
~
It holds me
in its evolving arms,
and strokes my dampened hair,
whispering comfort
as if to apologize
for its very existence.
It is mine,
born of a final breath
to dwell in my shadow,
and thrive inside a void.
I tend to it
as it tends to me,
embracing what remains,
just a fragment
of that final breath
to hold in my lungs.
And I succumb
as it rises
from the isolated corner
to walk beside me,
fully grown.

Maybe next time, I should get a dragon.
An immortal being
that shoots fire
and spreads its wings across the sky.

I could sit on its back,
guiding it over skyscrapers
and watching people
take in the shining emerald scales of my pet.

But there would be something missing.
The memory of a life spent on the ground;
a hole inside me that will not close.

The dragon may smile and soar through the air;
it may take me to wondrous cities in the clouds.
But when playing fetch, the stick would ignite,
and its scales would never be as soft as fur.

That memory of a life on the ground would linger,
of fetching balls for hours on end,
of excited jumping and face-licking when I reached home,
of cuddling against each other as the TV plays in the background,
of you howling, trying to speak after I told you I loved you,
of sitting down and petting a gorgeous, happy, fluffy beast.
The memory of you.

Dragons live forever
and dragons don’t get cancer,
but given the choice between you and a dragon,
I’d still pick you.

Maybe instead of a dragon,
I wish I had you back,
only maybe with wings,
and definitely without cancer.

Even though you’re not a dragon,
and you didn’t live forever,
that’s how long I will love you.

I was asleep for years,
Before I met him,
Put under a spell,
Like sleeping beauty I had fell,
Dreaming of a prince to enchant me with his spell,

I lived in terror of my dreams,
A fear of a witch upon me loomed,
As tales are told of witches roam,
Casting spells to own the souls,
Stealing voices to self preserve!
But there he was, to my surprise,
My prince dressed up in shining armor, gallantly appeared
Galloping to me on a tamed wild white mustang, reaching out his hand
To lift me up atop the horse, without a second thought,
I reached up to him convinced his love would bring me back to life,
Thus, off to we went to his castle that he made.

Alas, I didn’t awake but dreamt of him throughout the day.
He gave me medicine to take,
Telling me it would be of help,
As time went on, he kept me cribbed
Within the castle walls that he had built.

As to further on his sted of stealing me,
Charming brought me to specialists’, to see
Telling them of my paralysis and sleep,
The doctors of the mind did give,
Pills of various, shapes, and sizes, hues array,
I took the capsules with gleeful hope
That my heart would melt into a whole.
Instead the drugs turned me trape,
Sending me into a daily haze of muted sleep,
I never felt.

The fear of witches roamed deep within me, still
Suffocating me in my nightly sleep,
As time stood still, within this castle he had built.

Within my unsightly sleep,
I couldn’t see the witch, that hunted me,
Was me!
Hunting me with warnings from dusk to day,
That the prince was cunning,
He was nothing,
But a wolf hidden inside sheep’s clothing,
Cheating his way, to be.

I clung on still, unwilling to see.
The truth behind the cunning wolf,
The prince there still, always, smirking back at me
Alas, no happy ending upon my sight,
As my mind remained torn between the dreams of day,
And of a secret life I could not grasp, hidden inside this nightmare’s realm.

Although eventually the spell did break
Once charming had fulfilled his lust and drank me dry,
His seven year itch, began to itch,
Love for another the prince had found,
That’s when he discarded me, like dregs found inside of yesterday’s trash.

At last! I did awake by seeing the truth of me and him,
The darkness he had cast upon our souls
A tumor bred, poisoning the drinking water of our well.

I wonder still, why I refused to heed,
The warnings I had felt, from deep within,
The truth, behind the witch that I had met,
Were always me, and me alone,
No prince could ever rescue me.
Why did I than, refuse to see,
The truth, the power of me,
Casting myself into a slumber made of ice,
Within this fairytale dream’s demise.

Copyright Diana Kouprina all rights reserved 2024

I envy you.
You who has lost someone so late in life
Your hair is greying and your body is slowing
The agony is all the same
Time is our desperate lover
Always wanting more
Clawing at our deepest parts
Never giving up
When it’s gone we’re left with longing
An hourglass sitting on my desk
Never out of sight
Always there
A reminder of meaningless time
Empty
My hair is still technicolor
My body hasn’t given up yet
I am in perfect condition
But still I am broken
The years keep passing
The pain never lessens
10 years for you
50 years for me
I envy you.
You’ll find them in the blink of an eye
And I’ll be here waiting
Counting every second
Watching life go by
One day I won’t envy you
One day I’ll be whole
Time will leave me alone.

I do not want to die,
but I’m scared I won’t be able to live through this
pain. The thought of my last breath
and the sinking into what’s next
terrifies me because I have so much to live for
and yet
I’m tempted.
Will my body
force
my hand?

In my twenty-six years, death’s threat has never felt
so heavy
as this. This pain won’t
kill me
unless I allow it,
and I’m scared
of myself. I’m an wolf
with its paw
stuck in a trap—the hunter’s footsteps
approaching,
heavy
with his gun.
I want to chew my own hand off
just so I can fucking do something.
Causing more pain
because it’s already driving
me crazy doesn’t
make sense, but that left
me
a while ago.
I want to quit my job and run
back home.
Destroy my life
in five small minutes
like this small cut
has destroyed
my body.

“I am free as the whistling wind,
As free as the trees that sway,
Into a field of gardens fluorishing,
In a lushful of songs of the wilderness play…
Where I walk forth elated days,
From the vision of a sweet summer flower,
To skies so very blue merry ways…
For I stay succumbed…
Into forever bountiful…
Ever beautiful…
…freedom from here to few and far between place.”

Can you sacrifice
A red heifer to save to
The holy grail on time?

they say i am a feeble lass
i am weak to man,
i am like glass –
i would break,
compared to man,
who is concrete.

let me say, though,
i disagree, vehemently!

because i am not weak.
i am not a feeble lass.
i am not weak.

misogyny is pernicious –
it gives a false narrative,
that i intend to pop like a balloon –

because i am not weak.
i am not a feeble lass.
i am not weak.

my hand has as much dominance as a man’s,
my feet can stand just as straight as a man’s,
my lips can utter the same words as a man’s,
my intellect is as vigorous as a man’s –
because i am not weak.
i am not a feeble lass.
i am not weak.

i said, that girl is dead. he strangled her, and then he left her body in the woods. well, i seriously hope not, said my coworker, and she did sound hopeful but i scoffed. trust me. they’ll find her in a few months, or maybe next spring when the ice melts. the part that i didn’t say out loud- she’s been missing three weeks;

her face is unrecognizable; her knuckles are only useful to crows and coyotes as dice in games of cho-han. they will scatter their game pieces in frustration when vice-bored vultures swoop down toward the mess of her clothes to finish her off. later some unlucky man will be tasked with finding and polishing them, until all

the tiniest pieces of her can be studied like rare agates. until he can tell those of us waiting, for an ending that we know will be tragic, just how terrified she was when she died. or until he can tell you, in any case. i knew well before the coroner did that he strangled her and left her body in grand teton.