Blog post – New Features?

Hello people!

I’ve been wondering if I should ask this, so I’m going to throw it out to you guys.

Is there anything else you would like to see on this blog? Of course, this blog’s mainstay is still (and always will be) poetry and prose, but my interests in other things seem to demand their place in the spotlight as well. Articles from other sites, or my own on the things that I’ve been reading lately, the odd astrology post, a random haiku from a poet, quotes (of which I’ve been doing lately) – I also take photos. And I’ve been playing too much Neko Atsume, which I’m a little ashamed to admit – but catching up with my pile of books. Heh!

So…any suggestions?

お名前は? (What Is Your Name)

Cicadas hang –
beady-eyed, resplendent
sunlight slides off
polished metal and
branches snap
voices among trees
rustling – “oh”,
a deep blue, fondling
lost regressions

whirring machinery
kicks into life
from somewhere in
the cracked silence
tree roots creep,
adept at drugged

bicycle spokes and
brittle spiral smoke
of the sunflecked
pressed into
drifting motes,
intentions no more
than to dance and curl up
in outstretched palms

upended against
cushioned against
that fall, one by one
and scatter
on the bruised sidewalk
as she falls headfirst
into the void

(spring/summer is here – whichever comes first and ends later)

(I also realized that this fits the Poetry Riot prompt for December, so this is also an appropriation of that. I think you can now see that I’m really bad at keeping up with schedules.)

© Zelda Reville



Moodboard – When The Darkness Invites

I would call back at least for literature this world of shadows we are losing. In the mansion called literature I would have the eaves deep and the walls dark, I would push back into the shadows the rings that come forward too clearly, I would strip away the useless decoration. I do not ask that this be done everywhere, but perhaps we may be allowed at least one mansion where we can turn off the electric lights and see what it is like without them.

– Junichiro Tanizaki, In Praise Of Shadows

Ichi, Ni, San, Shi

Now you see me…erm, now you can still see me?

I passed by
three white mantises today,
who performed their
stunted dances
with awkward gaiety.

The second son,
shorter than the rest,
caught my eye
with a bow-legged curtsy
and corseted waistline.

I know it when I see it.

That impersonal
which masks
an impertinent
struggle for balance –

but, really!
It was through
no fault of his

that she was made
the Titillator
in this manner –

© Zelda Reville


How dare you say that to a girl like me!


I’ll bet a penny
you didn’t see me,
but I was waiting for you
under the thick berry bushes.


Stop thrusting that
black thingamajig in my face!
Don’t you know I’m
ultra sensitive?


Well, that was fast.
What! Now you’re saying I’m rude?
My dear boy…I’m always open
24 hours, 7 days a week!

© Zelda Reville


“Do you know why he committed suicide?” He asked, chewing on gum like any bored young man would do.

I thought for a moment, and frowned. “Wasn’t it because of his depression?”

He remained silent for a few minutes, and then shook his head.

“Why then?” I heard myself asking, my curiosity piqued by his delayed response. “Isn’t that what some people do; when they sink too deep into the depths, and everything hems in from all sides until they have nowhere to walk on but the roads of Death?”

Tom spat his gum out onto the sidewalk. “He killed himself, that poor bastard, because he couldn’t bear to live day after day, drowning in the dregs of his colourless life.”

“He despised – no, he was terrified of – the thought; of living past his youth, into the curse of old age, and degenerating slowly – crumbling and folding into frailty and sickness, till he passed on.”

He lit a cigarette which I hadn’t noticed before, and continued. “He figured that if he took his life when he was still able and young, he wouldn’t have that happening to him. Did you know how much he hated that? He kept telling me: Tom , help me, I can’t take this shit life anymore. I tried to shake him out, I really did. But that fucking idiot was completely out of his mind – he just sat there day by day mumbling to himself, and then he took his own life yesterday. Hanged himself by the oak tree, just near the dorm. Fucking hell, he could have chosen a better place.”

He took a long drag on his cigarette, breathing out sickly nicotine fumes, and shrugged helplessly, looking forlorn. “He was going into his engineering undergraduate studies too! Top of the class, he was. Well, not anymore – he’s in the ground now, not knowing we’re having this conversation, and not knowing that he’s become a fucking prick.” Tom laughed, its hollowness ringing in my ears. “His life wasn’t colourless. His family’s rich. Nice bird hangin’ on his arm too. Sky high grades. Great life waiting for him after university. I don’t get it. Why do all these silly, philosphical fuckwits kill themselves, and why do the girls throw themselves onto them idiots?”

Tom stubbed out the cigarette, and the ashes flew onto his bare, heavily- veined arm. “Even the cig’s trying to piss me off today! Damn it, the whole lot of you are trying to drive me insane!” He swore, flinging the burnt cigarette onto the grass. I watched him walk off, and sighed.

Tom needed time alone, and now was not the time.

(I found this while clearing out my inbox…totally forgot this was still lying around! I was supposed to flesh this out but I wasn’t able to. Oh well.)

© Zelda Reville