World of Flame (A Poem)

The ceiling has turned to lava
I look up, gleeful, and laugh.
It puckers in spots, bulbs dangling
They drop and burn the floor in half.

I continue to laugh as I look about
The floor has given way to
a vast ocean of fire and I'm
perched atop a boulder, watching it spew.

I should be hot, burning up
But I'm pleasantly chilly, a paradox
so strange I begin to sing a tune
and find a trinket in my hand, a box.

What is this? A lighter, how strange
A utensil that creates fire;
In a world engulfed in flame
My laugh returns as I climb higher.

Birds fly overhead, so close to the lava
I wonder how they yet live.
I squint and see it's just the dense smoke
swirling as wings on the wind and don't give.

Lighter in hand, I jar it with my thumb
A flame bursts forth like a blade.
I feel the metal begin to burn
But in the face of it, I'm not afraid.

What kind of world am I in now?
A world that is real, and yet not.
The ceiling transformed, the floor gave way;
Now I'm really beginning to feel hot.

Copyright 2014 by Erin M. Truesdale

Goodreads Giveaway! Ends January 24!

As many of you know, my newest book "Lifeblood: A Poetry Collection" is set to release on January 28, 2014! Yes, in a few short weeks. Wouldn't it be fun to win a copy of it before you can buy it? Oh, wait… you can! I'm giving away two ARCs of this book, which I am tremendously proud of, on Goodreads! If you live in the United States, please enter to win a copy! Thank you again for your ongoing support, it means the world! Cheers! -Erin M. Truesdale

Goodreads Book Giveaway

Lifeblood

by Erin M. Truesdale

Giveaway ends January 24, 2014.

See the giveaway details at Goodreads.

Enter to win

The Fire

            She stood there, in shock.  The black smoke billowed and swayed into the winter sky, the below zero air producing a drift that seemed like it was moving in slow motion.  Her head tilted back, and she couldn’t help but think, as she crossed her arms and grasped her elbows tightly, that the slow motion of the black pillars slowly rising above her head was fitting.  Her own mind, and her life as of one minute ago, was now going in slow motion, as well.  She felt faint, but more than that, she felt numb.  The below zero temperatures helped with that, but it was more; it was due to the fact that her entire life, despite the arctic conditions she found herself in, had gone up in flames.

            At that moment, she could care less about the material things inside her home.  Not only her childhood memories and pictures, but her expensive things like her computer and clothes, were all gone.  No, she didn’t care about those at all.  She cared about the other people that lived there with her.  Above all else, she prayed they had all gotten out safely.  As a hectic scene unfolded around her, blurring the lines in front of her eyes, she realized, little by little, that that was not the case.  The heads of the brave fire fighters hung a little lower, and you didn’t have to be a genius to know what that meant.

            The blur deepened.  She looked up and saw only black contrasted against the arctic landscape; the smoke was black, the remains of her home were charred to black.  Her hands appeared before her eyes suddenly, shaking; they were also black.  How had she escaped?  How in the name of God had she gotten out?  And why hadn’t she rushed around to find her mother, her sister, her cat?  Why hadn’t she burned to cinders with them?  Was she that selfish?  Had instinct kicked in?  How had she done it?  She looked past her shaking fingers to the bay window, or what was left of it, on the second floor of her family’s gutted house.  That was her bedroom, and that’s where she had been earlier.  She remembered clearly being sprawled on her daybed, completely engrossed in her book, Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone.  After that… it all went black.  The next thing she remembered was standing here on the curb, across the street from her house, alone.

            People had spoken to her, but she hadn’t heard a word.  They stood before her, lips moving, embracing her quickly, smooshing her numb face into their shoulders, stroking her hair.  Complete strangers, even.  She wondered to herself blankly if this was the norm, was this how all strangers treated other strangers when it came to comforting them?  Did they think that helped?  It’s one thing to loose all your material things, but it was another story entirely to loose your entire…

            A darkness enveloped her and the world spun.  Her hands fell and all she saw were the patterns the smoke created in the bright winter sky.  She didn’t remember much after that.

Copyright 2013 by Erin M. Truesdale