Tinged Tales

The Morgue File

she found she breathed best
in the dark
when blue air circled round ears,
in between toes
speaking its tales
in sibilant syllables

she favored tinged tales
that spoke openly
of lies uncovered,
kilned from the craw
of those she left behind.

on wednesdays she pulled
them open
digesting darkened truths
like books shelved too long
foxing eating them
bit by bit
in stale air.

truth held  itself in stillness
vowing no replication
she found she could breathe again.


Audrey Howitt 2016 all rights reserved

Today Susan asked us to write about openness. I find myself drawn to how we uncover lies, often alone--Poets United Mid-Week Motif


  1. the image of blue air speaking in sibilant syllables.. just too good!

  2. I was struck most by those lines as well. And I love "truth held itself in stillness...." Wonderful.

  3. This resonates deeply with me, especially when it is her own lies that she uncovers. There are so many images here that glitter in the stillness of the blue, stale air. It is one of those poems that will continue to circle round one's mind long after reading it.
    Thank you, too, Audrey, for dropping in at my blog. I was delighted by your kind comments. I have been a fan of your work for a while now. (You can now follow me by email; rather so inept around this platform, I really appreciate how you pointed things out to me).

  4. This is outstanding. One of your best.

  5. i like where the prompt took you...

  6. That craw in the back of the throat is a terror to shift..literally suffocating and all consuming.. i am glad on Wednesdays she can pull them open - and breathe..what a wonderful detail..which earths this writing to the here and now

  7. Beautiful. As always! This makes me think of meditation...what's on the mind and taking those deep breaths, despite what's happening...

  8. When that blue air speaks and circulates, I'm afraid I am elsewhere and need those like her who can uncover and recover. At first I thought "she" was dead or death, the state we have to come to before we can stop learning the truths. I'm impressed by the change in the air from stale to fully breathable to blue and dark (working backwards). Wow!

  9. I feel the relief at the end of the poem! Whew, to be able to breathe again.

  10. This is absolutely gorgeous..!!
    Beautifully penned.

    Lots of love,

  11. Absolutely loved the ending: "truth held itself in stillness/vowing no replication/until/she found she could breathe again".


  12. I enjoyed your interesting, powerful poem. A favorite part for me:

    on wednesdays she pulled
    them open
    digesting darkened truths

  13. If we can utter the truth without it catching in our throat and choking us, we are truly lucky. Otherwise we continue piling lies on top of one another, succumbing at last to the tiny doses of additive poison.

  14. Wow - this is so haunting and powerful ... an evocative articulation of that which goes to the dark mystic crevices of the human experience.


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