one of the suspects was a woman.


Photo: Labeled for reuse

Photo: Labeled for reuse

one of the suspects was a woman

if hell smells like sulpher, then
hate tastes of darkest nights.
terror creeps along like snail slime,
the touch of fear—a jelly fish sting.
pissez lâ-dessus, il m’a dit.

i sit transfixed watching death unfold
blood red tears seep into
sweetest pools of starlight.

does fear smell like gray smoke?
glass shards shatter hope,
slice through gentle hearts.

warmth streams down my legs
while bodies still like prone
in blue-green puddles

and there–an orphaned 6-month old.

Please join me at dVerse Meeting the Bar where I am hosting a prompt on synesthesia.  The doors to the Poetry Pub open at 3:00 PM EST. I’d planned on writing a nature-based poem but at the moment, this is more reflective on reality–sadly–a bit surreal like the news.

I will visit you as soon as possible, but I have been having a lot of Internet issues, so I ask for your patience.

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23 thoughts on “one of the suspects was a woman.

  1. anniejanae says:

    Also with the gender already so marginalized manipulatively by some deceived enough to think they have a right to somehow unjust behavior toward somewhat softer vessels, or anyone. Sometimes, just can only smh in sadness at the plight anyone would find their self in, along with lamented prayers at the moment, it is all else I can offer with heartfelt condolences that go out to innocent victims of vicious crime everywhere; may the innocent blood shed cry out loudly for halting, and bringing about all retribution due!

    Like

  2. anniejanae says:

    I’ve not aspired to much creative writing, I would be inspired to though with quite the admirable way that disdain is expressed over egregious deeds both cowardly, and dastardly done to stunned nations full of many sympathetic all the way to the point of pathological altruism after showing tolerance to some who succumb most ignorantly to cultist indoctrination thus become unwilling to engage obligingly in reciprocation by any means. This synesthesia themed diverse poetry fits well for recent, and/or all tragedies plaguing nations everywhere; for any one else pondering just the right sort of terminology when there really is no way to wrap one’s head around what is seen as perilously heartless times, in context of this piece the sensation may well serve more than anything what will do dead on with no pun intended, exactly in summing up so much, so very well.

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  3. 5h2o says:

    This is just beautiful, Victoria. On of the things I struggle with is how to use poetry for our complex and ugly realities. It is so easy to be strident. but then you lose the poem. You have found the way on this. Well done —

    Liked by 1 person

  4. Bryan Ens says:

    You really capture the emotion of terror with your colours. Your synesthesia prompt works for so many topics.

    Like

  5. Misky says:

    Gosh, this is so striking and powerful that I feel I’ve been slapped.

    Like

  6. Kathy Reed says:

    Great example of your prompt; I can feel the fear, see the eyes and sense the aloneness of death, be it an individual or a mass of people. Life is so precious and thank you for the enticing prompt, Victoria.

    Like

  7. Shawna says:

    I love this image: “terror creeps along like snail slime”

    Like

  8. lynn__ says:

    Disturbing description effectively captures sensations of fear…and thanks for another interesting prompt that stretches us, Victoria!

    Like

  9. Caught my feelings from the first line. Thank you for a really good prompt!

    Like

  10. That first stanza is so creepy and really sets the tone for the whole poem! Really excellent. My favorite line is “hate tastes of darkest nights”. It made me shudder when I read it.

    Like

  11. Kate Mia says:

    Smiles..
    i can’t say
    there are any
    colors in hell
    or devils..
    my friend..
    but death
    as life
    is death
    without
    colors
    of Life..
    killing numb
    killing numb
    killing
    colors
    of Life…
    i for one..
    refuse to fade.. again..
    no matter who does what…

    Like

  12. if hell smells like sulpher, then
    hate tastes of darkest nights.
    terror creeps along like snail slime…. this is brilliant – sandpaper to the fragile skin.

    Like

  13. Sanaa Rizvi says:

    Such powerful use of images… its so very palpable.

    Lots of love,
    Sanaa

    Like

  14. K. A. Bryce says:

    Victoria, I thought this a powerful poem and the imagery was excellent.
    Smiles…>KB

    Like

  15. Bodhirose says:

    Headlines become poems so easily it seems. I was stunned to learn that the shooters were a man and woman who had a young baby. A wonderful illustration of synesthesia for your prompt, Victoria.

    Like

  16. That opening stanza really grabbed me. Each verse in it is strong and dire.

    Like

  17. Mary says:

    You have really taken the tragic news of the day and worked synesthesia into it with your artistic touch; and in this poem I definitely can taste the hate in darkest nights & do smell the fear. So sickening, so senseless…and yes, an orphaned 6-month old who someday will learn what the parents did.

    Like

  18. This is also a very strong conceit, where synesthesia is building up the metaphor of ostracism in wars today- brilliant

    Like

  19. kanzensakura says:

    does fear smell like grey smoke? wow, wow, and another wow. This whole poem pours out the daily tragedy and saddest of all, those left behind. Amazing piece of work here. Your muse truly grabbed you and held on tight.

    Like

  20. Grace says:

    I am just sad to read about this madness and senseless killing of people ~ This part stood out for me:
    terror creeps along like snail slime,
    the touch of fear—a jelly fish sting.

    Great prompt Victoria ~

    Like

  21. A very fitting contribution for today. What a dreadful tragedy!

    Liked by 1 person

  22. A dark tale, bristling with atmosphere/ I couldn’t have written this to save my life. Chapeau!

    Like

  23. Glenn Buttkus says:

    Topical, emotional, scary & bristling with sweet synesthesia; terrific illustration of your prompt. I let ‘er rip with mine too.

    Like

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