This entry is part 2 of 22 in the series Poems based on Tarot

Photo credit: Pixabay

So how do I go about choosing what to write about for the week, and why did I decide to use the Tarot format?

I’ll start with the latter. As most writers can attest, it is very difficult to write anything if you are just given total freedom. Without a starting point, or some sort of framework, you can really get lost, and don’t actually begin anything. Having Tarot, with definitive themes, and purpose, gives me just enough direction, that within a short time I am actually putting something to paper.

So how do I choose the card of the week? This is done in one of two ways. By actually shuffling a deck and choosing a card, and then researching its meaning. Or by using an App that picks a card for me. If I understand the card, and nothing is clicking after a few hours then I will choose a new one and see if it resonates more. This could mean that I will have a lot of difficult poems to do at the end of the project, as I will have to deal with all the cards that didn’t inspire me. But it could also be that in that time and place it doesn’t make much sense, but at another time it might.

So the choosing is random, with some selection if it doesn’t work right away. I also go through the internet and find many iterations of the card in question, and pick the graphic which I also like the best. This is why all of the cards will be from mostly different decks.

Everything is also handwritten on paper; since for poetry I feel the pace of inspiration is intermittent and variable. I can type these blog paragraphs on a computer no problem, but for poems it has to be tactile and comfortable, and in a variety of settings.

For my second post we have the Five of Cups, which deals with extreme loss (such as this crypto bear market) and sometimes with its resolution. The emotions behind this poem are deeply personal, but I’ve tried to universalize those feelings to apply to anyone.


The Five of Cups – December 3, 2018


Photo credit: azurylipfe

I have fallen on a shard
And had breakfast with death
In the rain and the dust
All I have come to trust
Is fading.
I have stood there staring
Where sickness and trumpets are blaring
In the sudden vileness of loss
And calculated the cost
With no remainder.
I dream of distractions
Look at you with my pretend hope smile
Cry at the tiniest whiff of joy
Yell at any provocation
And breathe in the vacuum of space.
They say time is a healer
But it’s more of a stealer
For now.

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