The Moonchild & The Cynic

The Moonchild & The Cynic by Valerie Parente

I love the juxtaposition
anything but indifferent
two ends of the spectrum
living in the same vision.

I love this mission
where I’m more than a witness
part of something bigger,
the moonchild and the cynic.

I love the way you listen
it knows no division
you might not agree
but you still think I’m brilliant.

– Valerie Parente (6-11-2022)

A Harpy’s Observation

A Harpy’s Observation by Valerie Parente

The harpy fought her darkness
but vowed in her core
she would never haunt another.

Quite often she noticed
from her bird’s eye view
something ever so cruel.

All throughout the village
so many so called lovers
continuously hurt each other.

So she asked the lunar druid,
“Why are there so many toxic pairs?”
and to that he declared.

“Damaged people damage people
when mental health defects
remain unchecked.

Yes we all have a dark side
and I shall not fault one for their darkness
unless it goes unaddressed.

So many become a pair
and they foster displacement
from their own self-hatred.

You must at least try
to find healing in yourself
before you find love in someone else.”

– Valerie Parente (6-10-2022)

The Carrier

The Carrier by Valerie Parente

You have been given the greatest honor
when your loved one is visible no longer
and now you get to carry them with you
in everything that you do.
It will be challenging some days
but you will always find the strength
because wherever there is hurt
there was love there first.
There will be confusion but it always comes back
to this everlasting fact:
that loved ones remain forever within
so you never have to be alone again.

– Valerie Parente (5-16-2022)

Poetic Justice

Poetic Justice by Valerie Parente

Is it sick to say
the pain enriches my life
or am I fooling myself
with another literary device
the irony of my disorder
the alliteration of my confines
the tendency to poetic justice
for the fear of all randomized.
Pain must have meaning
it must have meaning, otherwise
all love does not extend
past the time of my demise.
Yes it must be full of meaning
at the other end there is a light
and if it weren’t for the darkness
love could not be recognized.

– Valerie Parente (4-29-2022)

Dizzy

Dizzy by Valerie Parente

Life is about balance
but I’ve always been dizzy in love
with the tug-of-war in my head
daydreams were never enough
but reality had one dead end.
I could dream up the perfect life
but the longing was hellbent
to lead with poetic justice
so came the mechanism of defense
I wanted to feel the world so badly
that I became a germaphobe instead.

Life is all about balance
and I am more stable in my unstableness
teetering on a fine line
but all I see is depth.

– Valerie Parente (4-29-2022)

The Undead Mermaids

The Undead Mermaids by Valerie Parente

Little girl skipping pebble stones
in the bay behind her little home
mother told her not to go
but to that little lake she strolled.

She played a dangerous game
with creepy mermaids her age
they said “dip your toes in the lake”
beneath the water lily maze.

Little girl offered one tiny inch
that’s when she got sucked in
groped and bitten
by those devious sirens.

Then took place the wicked spell
the undead mermaid hell
little girl turned into one of them
luring other girls to that realm.

Prominent were their ribs
with hair that became thin
so emaciated and addicted
to rotting in their grey skin.

Once choice is all it takes
a little curiosity in your brain
to turn you into a slave
recruiting more undead mermaids.

– Valerie Parente (4-23-2022)

Crescent Moon

Crescent Moon by Valerie Parente

The way you sparkle
when you’re incomplete
has a lovely way
of teaching me
what it’s like
to be truly free
comfortable in oneself
no matter who recedes
and I think that’s why
you knew i was ready
for a stronger light
to expand the scene.

– Valerie Parente (4-1-2022)

Unread

Unread by Valerie Parente

Nothing hurts more
than being unread,
it’s like everybody sees me
without the depth.
Blame it on narcissism,
blame it on sickness,
but I’m sick of my book
being closed on your desk.
Each page is crisp,
sharp on the edge.
I told the whole story
now be my witness.
Please open me up
and read all my subtext.

– Valerie Parente (2-18-2022)

Ravenheart

Ravenheart by Valerie Parente

Illihana was born with a Ravenheart
a sanctum dark as midnight
so debilitating in its comfort
making a cozy life from her demise.
Each vein black and branching out
scaring off every knight
like spiderwebs on her skin
or cracks on a doll so pallid white.
This blackness, it infected it all
every touch, every thought in her mind
she couldn’t control its presence
so she hid during the daylight.
She made a home with her ravenheart
grooming pride instead of spite
isolated from the fear she drew near
and in men’s fear she started to thrive
emboldened by the way her beauty
was so personal and precise
something too scary during the day
and too camoflouged to touch at night.
The grit, the grime, the gore
was never worth a common man’s fight.
But Sir Dovetail was no common man
he was so resilient in all his light.
The prince spoke to her in the pitch black
getting to know her dark side
and he didn’t care to run away
even when she cried.
The love was glorious, the love was grand
the love made her start to realize
that isolation that once consoled her
no longer felt like a source of pride.
When she had to leave her prince before dawn
she wished she could leave the ravenheart behind.
She could accept the darkness for her sake
the way its wrath made her writhe
but what she could not come to accept
was the way it impaired his life.
Though never once did he express distress
never once did he resent her strife
but she knew that deep down
he missed having her in sunlight.
Illihana emerged from her cave
with dark veins in plain sight
and as the townspeople stared
so did Dovetail in delight.
When he finally saw her blackened heart
he couldn’t help but notice her beautiful eyes
so big and bold and brave
and oh he loved how they shined.

– Valerie Parente (2-11-2022)

Blue Lips

Blue Lips by Valerie Parente

Something about the cold
and how it makes my lips blue.
Something about the frostbite
in being so crude.

I vowed to be explicit
in everything that I do.
I vowed to be so cold
to every man that swoons.

Don’t touch me,
I’m made of ice
and you’ll be frozen too.
Don’t touch me,
it’s my demise
from the fear I have groomed.

Yes, there’s something about the cold
and how it makes my lips blue.
Well at least when I’m cold
I’m the color of you.

Valerie Parente (1-27-2022)