My dragon tattoo, covering an old scar.
LET ME BE YOUR TATTOO
By Marion
Let me be a tattoo
on your cold, hard heart:
an arrow to pierce the plate of steel
protecting the soft, pliable tissue;
a black rose dripping red blood
onto your colorless psyche
to awaken you;
a skull and crossbones covering your third chakra
as a warning to others: fear me;
a slimy snake, slithering up your throat
to choke back your angry words;
an Indian chief on your left bicep
to cover an ancient wound;
an angel on your right shoulder to
watch over and protect you
from yourself.
Let me be your tattoo and
I’ll let you mark me forever
with the indelible ink
of your delicious,
dangerous love.
18 comments:
Oh this...my favorite part:
"a skull and crossbones covering your third chakra
as a warning to others: fear me"
Nobody fears me. Sometimes I wish it...to have that kind of vibe. You can be my tat anyday Marion. You know right where to put it *wink*!
(ps - word verification was Katie. Never Ann. Never Marion. Katie. Really??? WTF!)
Sometimes Marion you just flipping well astonish me. This poem of yours has the "tingle factor" ... big time. I partcularly liked the little twist there with the angel protecting the tattoo'ed one from his/herself. I liked the unexpectedness of it very much ... in fact I could go through line by line and say that I like this or that about it. I just love it all I guess. You are an accomplished poet Marion because you say a lot within your economy with words. xx Jos
Annie, I'm scared to death of you. But I love you, too. xoxo
Oh, Jos, thank you so much for your kind words. You truly made my day, my week, my entire year. You rock! xoxo
wow. this is playing on the dark side of the moon with confidence:) really, really engaging stuff.
thanks for visiting my place.
very glad to be here:)
I love tattoos and I love this poem, Marion.
*sigh* I wish I had more than my one tiny tattoo, but my husband hates them and out of deference to him I refrain. Besides, my skin isn't getting any "younger" and I'm not sure where it would look good now. Instead I just live vicariously through my two girls. My son has yet to get any.
I really want a tattoo of Gandalf fighting the balrog.
Wow, Marion. Just ... wow! That may be one of THE strongest of the poems in your body of work. Magnificent!
xox
Marion, you march right at us with this one. I love it! You are fierce inside of this. Deliciously you slide from one metaphor to the next. Brilliant, Marion. I love this one intensely.
Your tattoo speaks volumes too. I become a little quieter wondering whay lies under there.
xo
erin
Lovely tattoo, I have one, too, and am contemplating another one.
This summer finds me poolside and swimming, hope you are well, dear Marion!
W * O * W ! Marion ! I LOVE every word in this poem. I love the imagery. This is the work of a professional. It brings images to mind with every word ~ written SO well!! Bravo, Marion!
♥ audrey
Pleased to meet you Dragonfly. I'm here via Kass, who has disappeared from the blogosphere of late, but I pop over to her blog from time to time to see if I can catch her again and there I found you and this lovely poem. Thanks.
This poem is so intense...it bounces right at me, if that makes any sense.It's superb...I love this line..."an angel on your right shoulder to
watch over and protect you
from yourself." Awesome!
I love your dragon...my granddaughter has a tattoo on her wrist, as well. She has her mother's name, but it looks very like yours...xx
First of all, MMMWHAH! Thank you for the recipe! Jane and I will bake them on Monday. I lost my good recipe after I moved and we have made lots of bad sugar cookies for each holiday since :).
Second I liked the dark and light of this piece very much, but then, I LOVE tattoos.
Lovely...
regards from France,
Pierre
I love this poem and the picture... I remember a crazy site fight that one of your tattoo pictures created on that old soup site we belonged to? Was it this one? I don't remember it and it is so contemporary. Posted on this a couple of days ago, but blogger was acting up on me! Hope you had a great 4th!
quid
Quid, the shit-stirring poem was the one I wrote titled, "Sadie Plumm" about 3 small children who were burned to death purposely by their $%&$# mother. She never got convicted, but I stand by my poem because I know all the dirt on that murdering shrew. Yes, Maria gave me pure dee hell about it and I pulled it from the Soup. I'll post it again soon. It makes me weep every time I read it. You have a great memory. LOL! xoxo
OMG! Now I remember! And I rolled over with laughter at the elegant phrase... "shit-stirring poem". You my friend, are one of the funniest people I've ever met. But I recall how heartfelt your emotions were about that mother (shades of Casey Anthony?); the poem said it all. And then tragically, if you'll excuse my French, she pooped all over it.
My. I don't often use that expression. Felt good, in retrospect!
quid
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