i was a bird

tried to launch from a balcony

but you saw the calamitous skies

rendered opaque in my eyes

and grabbed my gnarly wings

feathers fell: funereal offerings


when I was a python

i had a serpentine aspiration

to contort and twist into suffocation

but you distracted me with quail eggs,

juggled by a roguish marmoset

cajoled by such tomfoolery, I forget


then I was a leopard

i slipped away into the night

camouflaged in shadows

to a covert carnage site

later, to discover in defiant disarray

pierced through by arrow of curare

at last …. my own lifeless prey

80 thoughts on “Sacrifice”

      1. And you mine! Such a connection of unconditional warmth is a beautiful thing and has my soul humming …. much love to you tonight and every night 🌸💟

        Liked by 1 person

  1. Nothing snappy from Ivor, the birds have flown north for winter, the snakes are hibernating from the cold, and the leopards have turned into sleepy wombats. I loved all the hidden layers throughout your poem, and I enjoyed the twists and turns you placed in my mind.

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    1. Thanks for your lovely words, kind Ivor! Ah I can smell the winter of my youth as the wombat shuffles unseen! Hope you bundle up and get some inspiring fresh air today! 🙂

      Liked by 1 person

  2. Ah, would you look at this! Your poems are packed with metaphors, imagery, symbolism, and literary devices that have not even been discovered yet, from the very offset!
    A dark, twisted, unexpected (yet not entirely surprising) treat from one with such an enlightened soul, lovely mind and beautiful words – that cannot have evolved without suffering, without seeing darkness. You are a master storyteller Diana, and here you do it with such feral finesse! ❤

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    1. Oh how you manage to catapult my mood into sweet contentment, dear Isha!
      Allow yourself to be welcomed into my auditorium of appreciation…. as I ask you to take the stage and then applaud until my palms perspire from the pummeling provoked! Your words are the progeny of the kindest of souls and I am so very humbled to be the object of your preternatural praise!
      Praisonomics on fire 101 ❤

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      1. Your flawless writing transports the reader, Diana, and in this world of harsh and brutal reality, writers like you who provide a respite and escape into beauty, are a blessing ❤
        On a side note – you are to be felicitated by the Dean of the University of Praisonomics for the highest score and alliterative perfection. 😁

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      2. Haha I’m chuckling and sweltering in humble moments here. My late night words may be few but know that I’m mightily entertained and touched by you …my stupendously delightful friend 💟💐💐💐

        Liked by 1 person

  3. So much here – reminds me of a conversation a friend and have about how, in relationship, a woman’s essence is eclipsed. Not sure that I don’t think it happens both ways – instincts giving over to compliance. Now I ramble. You have struck something.

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    1. And I hope your guitar was slung over your shoulder as you walked by for indeed I would ask you to sing some and bring a smile to my face Prashant 🙂


      1. Oh my …. if you are serious that would be, let me try to find a word for it….
        A.M.A.Z.I.N.G!!!!!!! 👏🏻👏🏻😀


    1. There you are, sweet lady, all tucked away in an unexpected corner of my blog … ambushing me with your warmth and encouragement. And insight!
      We are the sum of beauty and weakness … striving to stay to the positive end of the spectrum; sometimes grasping at the shreds as they pass though our hands. Sweet, abundant warm wishes to you x

      Liked by 1 person

  4. Tales of variety and perspectives that are revealing…this poetry transcends and beckons one to ponder, what if!!! you have already answered…well written in your grabbing attention way…loved it


  5. The ending is fiercer and more triumphant but the essence of the poem reminded me of a beautiful poem by John Clare called I am. His ending is more quixotic but I think you’ll enjoy this –

    I am—yet what I am none cares or knows;
    My friends forsake me like a memory lost:
    I am the self-consumer of my woes—
    They rise and vanish in oblivious host,
    Like shadows in love’s frenzied stifled throes
    And yet I am, and live—like vapours tossed

    Into the nothingness of scorn and noise,
    Into the living sea of waking dreams,
    Where there is neither sense of life or joys,
    But the vast shipwreck of my life’s esteems;
    Even the dearest that I loved the best
    Are strange—nay, rather, stranger than the rest.

    I long for scenes where man hath never trod
    A place where woman never smiled or wept
    There to abide with my Creator, God,
    And sleep as I in childhood sweetly slept,
    Untroubling and untroubled where I lie
    The grass below—above the vaulted sky.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. And what an honour for you to send this to me, so that in my quiet evening hour I can ponder at the sense and beauty of composition and power of the words. How inspired I am…..thank you kind soul, thank you 🙂

      Liked by 1 person

      1. You’re very welcome Diana. I suggest listening to i giorni by Ludovico Einuadi when you re-read this. It’ll give the experience more depth. It’my favorite poem.


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