“Oh,” the girl said, shaking her head. “Don’t be so simple. People adore monsters. They fill their songs and stories with them. They define themselves in relation to them. You know what a monster is, young shade? Power. Power and choice. Monsters make choices. Monsters shape the world. Monsters force us to become stronger, smarter, better. They sift the weak from the strong and provide a forge for the steeling of souls. Even as we curse monsters, we admire them. Seek to become them, in some ways.” Her eyes became distant. “There are far, far worse things to be than a monster.” ~ Jim Butcher, Ghost Story

Apologies, but I do not have a blog post for you today.

Instead, I have poetry.

Lately, I have been interested in exploring the idea that some of us have inside of us a monstrous part, a piece that isn't easy to look at or talk about, a piece that is there to do what needs to be done even if what needs to be done is ugly or inhuman. This part of the self could be seen as a more damaged version of the anti-hero. My husband calls it the Necessary Monster.

 

And in thinking about monsters lately, and necessity, and my love of the sea, I have been writing poetry that incorporates these ideas along with some common mythological themes. It's been an interesting journey already, and I have just begun.

So, you will probably see some poetry here, along with my other posts. I've included a poem today.

 

On Leaving Her Lover

by Amoret BriarRose

You once wondered how I stay afloat,
never questioning my iron feet, my riptide throat.
(I told you I’d swim us back to shore,
and I told you the depths were kind,
but I sing a siren wish-song, so of course, my love, I lied)
Here’s my little secret: in my ribcage lives an anchor
and it’s sinking toward survival, it’s been sinking all the while.
(I told you I’d swim us back to shore,
and I told you the depths were kind,
but I sing a siren wish-song, so of course, my love, I lied)
Girls like me don’t float, babe, and when waves foam black and high
the fathoms fit a bitter squeeze, a bruising lullaby.
(I told you I’d swim us back to shore,
and I told you the depths were kind,
but I sing a siren wish-song, so of course, my love, I lied)

 

If you are interested in reading more of my monster poems, the growing collection is at my website hereUnless otherwise noted, poetry by Amoret BriarRose is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License.