Tabitha Gidcomb
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A snippet of that, a tidbit of these
A writing sample variety

Humectant - a poem

Cupcakes and razor blades
Poison acid in my veins
Bittersweet and grave, the taste of reason

Damned to do, and damned for naught
Frustration festers all for aught
My mind contends to lynch itself for treason


Translation Argumentative

Write the weird and wacky ways,
All the crazy things we says,
Goofy, silly, strange-oid being,
Psycho stuffs. Write ev-er-y-thing!

Devout of faith and heretic;
The quest for truth; the lies so thick;
Purple, paradigm paradox;
How time rapes meaning from the clock.

Translation represents restive
one-sided argumentative.
The mirror black reveals all truths;
Silver murk--a dubious sleuth.

Live life dying more each day--
Spirit ascends from that parlay.
Toxic nutrients consumed
create the macabre phoenix plume.

Silent, yet so deathly loud--
Lace curtain, such a muffling shroud--
Through porous veil, my thirst is whet;
Il a chanté, mon alouette.

(c) 2018

A Macabre Dance of Love and Hate

This infernal piece of paper
With its crispy edges of doom
Its blankly staring, flattened face...
I want to crumple it into a ball and
Compress it down to its laughing core
The way this page has haunted me
No other bully could compare
The smoothness of its surface
Is like a toxic lover's caress
One who knows your heart's desire
Yet holds you in thrall with empty promises
Devoid of honor as this page is blank with words
This slate so clean, unmarred by rabid thought
Until, with ink, my raven weapon
I slice the paper with impunity
This parchment taunts me, begs my wilted sword
I curse the page as provocation lands its mark
A twisted dance--we oblige one another
The battle boils; the mind-dam bursts
Beyond the ensuing flood
I find I am the laughing one
The scent of page and ink combine
Aroma fit to seduce the mind
Victory of battle--my war rages ever on
And daily do I deal these wicked blows

Une danse macabre de l'amour et de la haine

(originally published in CSCC literary mag "Perceptions" May 2018)

Stillhouse Hollow Falls

This amphitheater au naturale
Hides echoes of the fae from long ago
Abiding in the rocks and waterfall
And tinkling through the pools that ripple slow
Great canopy begins its Autumn turn
Bold Harvest season setting up display
That firebrand-painted world will swiftly burn
Yet, there is still some time for summer play
Cascading down the face of mossy stone
The soothing waters speak of peaceful glades
Where nature has been left to thrive, alone
And time itself is all that ever fades
I know this land can hear my aching heart
I cherish it with this, my bleeding art

(originally published in CSCC literary mag "Perceptions" May 2018)

     The Water Faery

	Water splashed onto the counter as out popped a tiny winged 
creature from out the bubbles in the sink.
	“What?!” the girl at the sink exclaimed. “What is this?!”
	“Hee, hee,” the creature giggled. “I am a water faery, silly!”
	The girl, of bare woman’s age, reckoned with her own mind the 
only inquiry she could muster. “But,” she began, her brow furling in 
uncertain disbelief. “But...what are you doing in my dishwater?”
	“I shall answer your question, and then I shall fly," the faery 
tinkled, twirling atop a particularly large, soapy bubble, her essence 
dusting the dishes that poked above the water. "I were but a passerby, 
and inkled I might have a look see, hee hee.”
	The faery flitted to the faucet and performed a perfect swan dive 
into the water, with but a tiny plop to follow.
	“No, wait!” cried she as the sink began to drain. The girl searched 
about amidst the remaining bubbles, in vain. When the water was gone, 
there was no trace of the faery save for a few shining flecks of blue-green glitter.

(Originally published in CSCC literary mag "Perceptions" May 2018)