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)

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)

Beg A Question (The Royal Harpy & The Lunar Druid)

Beg A Question (The Royal Harpy & The Lunar Druid) by Valerie Parente

The royal harpy’s sickness
has always been her muse
and that’s precisely why this princess
couldn’t differentiate from the two.

On a night of pure stillness
she captured the druid of the moon
she took him as her witness
and begged him for the truth.

“Surely it’s your business,
and I will not be made a fool,
tell me, am I my condition
or is my condition just a ruse?”

The lunar druid was oddly smitten
remembering all the princess had been through
a young harpy tormented by children
so he posed a question too.

“Did they bully you for your condition?
Or was this your condition because they bullied you?”
“I’m not sure I know the difference,”
the princess whispered so confused.

That druid of the moon simply listened
as he heard all he needed to
and as his emerald eyes glistened
he whispered, “That is your proof.”

– Valerie Parente (7-30-2021)

Moonchild Manifesto SUMMARY

NEW BOOK HERE

Have you been enjoying my poetry? I love to post my work on valerieparente.com to act as a free library for my writing and art. That being said, if you would like a HARD COPY of my latest work (200+ poetry and prose pieces) you can support me by purchasing Moonchild Manifesto: A Poetry & Prose Collection on Amazon.com. (LINK HERE) Coping with the trauma that arises when you have Obsessive Compulsive Disorder during a pandemic and heartbreak and also dealing with the leftover trauma from OCD and anorexia growing up are major themes in Moonchild Manifesto. There is a progression throughout the collection that begins with recognizing pain and heartbreak, transforms into reflection and how your mind could ever get to such a traumatized and obsessive point, and graduates into hopefulness through fantastical allegory-poem hybrids and personal poetic affirmations. Along with stomping out mental health stigma this collection has undertones of feminism, free speech activism, spirituality, and commentary on living through a pandemic. This is easily my favorite project thus far and I would love to share it with the world.

If you liked any of the following pieces on my website you will love them in a full collection that follows a trajectory from The Hurt, The Heal, into The Hope. Some fan favorite poems in Moonchild Manifesto are:

  • Let Go
  • Fishnets
  • The Moon & The Third Eye
  • Venus Fly Trap
  • Like My Dolls
  • These Laurels Were Not Meant To Rest
  • The One That Got Away
  • Your Wardrobe
  • Change, So Bittersweet
  • Why?
  • The Picures I Paint
  • You Look Like You’ve Seen A Ghost
  • In The Jungle
  • Pamper Yourself
  • The Spider Princess
  • Wind Up Toy

– Valerie Parente (7-5-2021)

Moonchild Manifesto: A Poetry & Prose Collection by Valerie Parente AVAILABLE NOW

AVAILABLE HERE

Moonchild Manifesto by Valerie Parente is a body of work that documents the parallel between two acts: feeling a profound connection and making it your whole mood, and taking a topic and making it your artistic muse. There is a similarity between poetry and the spell we call love. A Moonchild is hyper-sensitive to this similarity and understands how it is equally enchanting as it is taxing. Divided into three moon phases, this poetry and prose collection follows the subconscious trajectory of The Hurt, The Heal, and The Hope.

Valerie Parente’s third poetry and prose collection manifested out of what she does best, mixing psychology, spirituality, and fantasy to make sense of her mental experiences as both a human being with Obsessive Compulsive Disorder and a whimsically dark artist.

The Harpy At Curtain Call

The Harpy At Curtain Call by Valerie Parente

She’s got violet wings
claws for scratching
getting under your skin
with her keen language
a harpy at curtail call
a village so appalled
jet black eyes in a stupor
no irises, all pupils
absorbing all of the light
scanning the horizon for flight
so formidable to the townsfolk
like the creeper when exposed
and right before she takes off
she prays to the dawn
because she has so much fear
when the night inches near
because it’s easier to see the horizon
when the light is there for guiding
and she has so much faith
at the beginning of the day.

– Valerie Parente (6-13-2021)

Jackalope

Jackalope by Valerie Parente

You’re just a mythical thing
a hybrid through taxidermy
jackrabbit ears
antlers that pierce
formulated after death
a concept used to make sense
of the world we don’t know
my dear jackalope.

You’re just a mythical thing
you screwed me up that morning
that’s why I’m a creature of the night
but that pain will not define
the way you broke me down
so broken but whole now
a fusion of my dual states
dark and light in the same place.

You’re just a mythical thing
two real entities mixing
to make one hell of a tall tale
and my mind went off the rails
a little truth behind the love
a little make-believe teenage crush
you got out, never quite mine
I had grace but I was chaos inside.

You’re just a mythical thing
made from the backstabbing
you don’t know me
you know a girl so naive
when I had you in my palm
before we sabotaged it all
but I’m content tonight
I found someone that felt right.

You’re just a mythical thing
my omen, my warning
you don’t play God with nature
you don’t tamper with your maker
that’s when you lose your appetite
become emaciated over night
that was no way to live
nearly got myself killed.

You’re just a mythical thing
a story I was telling
now you’re a thing of the past
and I won’t bring that pain back
a little bit of truth combined
became a tall tale over time
and I’m okay letting go
farewell, dear jackalope.

– Valerie Parente (6-6-2021)

The Seven Swords

The Seven Swords by Valerie Parente

He was an elven warrior,
wielding a mighty sword,
an Excalibur that glowed,
in dire times of war.

There were six other swords,
each emanating a vibrant hue,
violet, indigo, green, yellow,
orange, scarlet, and his was blue.

This elf belonged to the clouds,
his people charged the stars,
on a stratosphere of temples,
each lighting up the dark.

Sky-born elves were peaceful,
up until a decade ago,
when archangels from underground,
took the stars as their own.

Ever since that catastrophic heist,
the world was never the same,
all creatures lived in the dark,
using torches to illuminate.

That’s when the seven swords
broke their hibernation,
their glow was the key,
to defeating hell’s nation.

The blue sword resided in a raincloud,
violet was stored on the lilac beach,
indigo hid away in the catacombs,
green perched in the forts of trees,
yellow in the sunlight chapel,
orange in the nymph observatory,
and scarlet in the wicked forest,
that guarded hell from enemies.

All seven swords were retrieved,
by different breeds of man,
elves, witches, trolls, and more,
each ready to take a stand.

Every retrieval was its own tale,
but that is for another day,
today we discuss the battle,
that took place at hell’s gates.

The archangels fought hard,
to keep the world in the dark,
but the seven swords fought harder,
to find the light that was lost.

For seven days and seven nights,
the battleground was on fire,
and sword after sword,
illuminated like a lighter.

The archangels were defeated,
by the myriad of colors,
and every time one deceased,
they exploded like no other.

A rainbow of brilliant rays,
shot up like a beam to the sky,
and each archangel carcass,
became a new kind of starlight.

Ever since that fateful day,
the blue sword became a symbol,
absorbing the light in the sky,
that once belonged to the dismal.

We learn from the seven swords,
that sometimes the darkest minds,
just need a little spark,
to surrender to the bright side.

– Valerie Parente (4-16-2021)

Pixie Dust

Pixie Dust by Valerie Parente

Little nymph with rainbow wings,
sprinkling pixie dust,
making the darkness sparkle,
with her magic touch.

Little fairy with sharp intuition,
seeing auras through glass eyes,
your energy is clear to her,
even when you try to hide.

Little creature of the forest,
with empathy like the stars,
she envisions how you feel,
dividing light in equal parts.

Their whimsical spirits exceed the days,
like totems passed down the human race,
so very minuscule in this time and place,
yet endless in the sentiments they convey.

– Valerie Parente (3-8-2021)