november child

the curse of a sentimental heart & a skeptical mind




If you asked me
which you never do
(no surprise here)
I would show you
the truth about
the consequences
of one’s choices.

Not the happy place
of I-do-what-I-want,
but this particular field
where you reap
what you sowed,
and where you,
invariably, never show up.

© november child
photo credit: Danny Nicholson via flickr


You have cordoned off her heart,
declaring it a crime scene,
while you meticulously search
for verification
that she once loved you.

Without substantial proof
you are unable to elicit a confession,
so you assume that
either the evidence has been
severely tampered with,
or else she has committed
the perfect crime.


© november child
photo credit: Brandon Anderson via flickr



Is it?

You say it is just a game,
no harm done,
no one gets hurt.

Let me ask you though…

How severely
have twinkling temptations
blinded you?

How many times
do your thoughts linger
on what you can not have?

How often
do you long
for what is not yours?

And how far
have you wandered down
forbidden roads?

You think it is just a game,
but is it?


© november child

photo credit: 8 Kome via flickr



Slowly she walks,
her white dress rustling,
her hips softly swaying,
to the sad nocturne
of thready voices
singing her name.

Her path leads along
the winding banks
of the river Deceit,
her words all but drowned
by the deafening whoosh
of its gurgling wild torrents.

She is called elusive,
a myth born of ignorance,
fed by the strident noise
and scratching chorus
of  those ruthless servants
kneeling before Apate’s shrine.

For in her holy well,
her abode of honour,
if one cares to listen,
her voice rings sonorous,
never reduced to a buzz
by the crackles of the mundane.

In there, when annoyed,
her anger speaks loudly,
spreading the truth
with a percussive force
resembling the whistle and pop
from a lash of a whip.

So she continues undisturbed,
which is the way of a goddess,
collecting more voices
for her choir of verity,
secure in the knowledge that
truth is not off-key and has no echoes.


© november child

photo credit: Darron Birgenheimer via flickr

in response to mindlovermisery’s menagerie Wordle Special Addition Sound !August 1st, 2016′

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