a literary & arts magazine
In the lead up to the announcement of Issue II, we will be releasing three prompts this week. These prompts hint slightly at the overarching theme of Issue II.
Post your response in the comments below so we can reblog our favourites next week.
Happy writing!
In The Styx
I took a dip in the river.
They told me it would make me
invulnerable,
invincible.
But they lied.
In fact I was accident prone.
Scrape after scrape,
fall after fall,
that was my experience
of living my life.
But I always survived
until now
when I’m standing
waiting for the ferryman
to take me across the river,
the same river,
perhaps,
or maybe not
I forget.
Perhaps he’s already been
and taken me to Lethe
by mistake.
I forget.
My memory doesn’t flow
as swiftly as it used to.
Perhaps it clogged
when he let me sink
into the mud of the marshland
on another wrong turning.
But I’ll stand and wait
a little longer.
This time
I know
I must cross
and give up my soul
to eternity.
Lynn White
I met my lover dipping his toes in the water
Of the damned.
I gazed upon him half-dressed from
My shining shore.
The river screamed above my heart
The words he spoke were drowned out.
We made bridges in each other’s eyes
We walked upon them in our dreams though
Daybreak tore them down.
My tongue begins to fork
With longing and
I do not know it but he
Is turning his horns into wings.
Crossing the River Styx
The thoughts the ancient Greek souls
were impelled to think while being
ferried, packed out, side by side Charon,
heeding to his infernal recital of Narcissus
being cursed in the Hades of ever reflective
on his reflections in the sloughy waters of
Styx was kindred to my thoughts, the other
night as l lay awaiting sleep.
He stated, Narcissus was nothing but a phantom
of what he was and everyone there was spotted
by their smiles and by their teeth for this is what
remain. This was akin to my night musings on
my fellow workers smiles and their teeth, but in
no way peculiar of me, I who forever recalled
people by their smiles and by their teeth and
even ranked them accordingly.
I imagine the ancient souls had a hell of time
while being transported to a hell of place, retrieving
the smiles, recalling the teeth of the ones who
got crossed in case of telling them apart
in the marshy waters of Styx.
love from LA, Kristiana xo
https://wordslessspoken781842219.blog/2021/03/15/cooing-sounds-of-city-pigeons/
Dementia
Take the coin
From my tongue.
Pluck the arrow from
My eye.
I am a nymph no longer.
My star-crossed days are done.
And where these streams converge
I will not wade,
Nor lay me down.
I’ve no fee for the ferryman,
Tea for the tillerman,
Song for the nameless.
I will not cross the River Styx.
They’ve taken the toll
And leave me no choice.
Lethe’s pale blue wave
Will wash away
Hearth and home,
Reflection and notion,
Sense and wit,
Volition and voice.
Free Verse Revolution: 
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