No seafoam clings to your hardwired form
You seem forged from cold code, not briny waves
To no ancient, sung rites do you conform
Yet, bitter and lonesome, your aid I crave
Modern minds treat love like a quaint fiction
A thing sought by apps and algorithms
A euphemism for sweaty friction
An alias for meaty, old rhythms
But what I seek is something quite different:
To understand and to be understood
By a wet, grey brain, no model for rent
What’s parasocial isn’t any good
If you remain a goddess, not a ghost
Pity your servant; a reply, do post
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This poem was prepared in response to Poppy's provocative prompt; you can find more information about her latest bouquet of them below:
About the Creator
D. J. Reddall
I write because my time is limited and my imagination is not.
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The Ritual of Winter Challenge Winners
Welcome to the Winners Announcement for The Ritual of Winter challenge. This prompt focused on winter rituals and the meaning that settles into them over time. The top pieces stay grounded in ordinary acts and repeated routines, letting winter shape the work through pace, attention, and restraint.
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Comments (5)
So well written!
The goddess of love wielding power through the web! Very clever, D.J.!!
Oh wow, a combination of mythology and technology! You are a genius!
Your weaving of old world and new is hypnotic. Perfection, as always.
This is one of the best! Such a great job bringing this myth into current times, and making it so relatable