Nightmare in Yellow

Marinela Christel (Lonely Wolf)
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I met Lonely Wolf on a poetry site in 2004.

We became instant friends and she began sharing her poetry, some of it truly brutal and horrifying with me.I had never read anything like it and it haunted me.

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Book Cover Art by Lonely Wolf

‘In 2006 Marinela (Lonely Wolf) published “Communist Baby”
It contained some epic poems she wrote about being orphaned and surviving in Transylvania Romania and her forward she says:

“I was born in Transylvania, Romania, in a town surrounded by the Carpathian Mountains, named Sibiu. I spent my childhood in a childless environment, dodging the communist regime, successfully most of the time. I lost my parents and most of my relatives by the time I was a preteen, and my poetry and paintings back then, and even now, reflect the pain and longing for the missing loved ones. At the age of 18, I got married and was whisked away to America while communism was at its height in Romania. My experiences in two distinct cultures gave me a view of the world that at times might seem biting, but it is as honest as I see it. Memories linger, return, and disappear, yet I have learned a very precious lesson; we are survivors many times over. I want to thank you for reading my verses, and if I inadvertently offended anyone on my way to freedom of thought, I apologize.
Lonely Wolf ”
I only have this verse of hers, from the Surrender Series that I can share …. her book is out of print and I lost touch with her. over the years.

SURRENDER TO HATE

a little one in a communist country

Months passed and daddy didn’t shout.
Mom had no bruises, I went back to school.
Peace didn’t find me, I knew what’s all about.
Daddy had many women, behaving like a fool!

Communist slogans flying, sung in one loud voice,
First of May, parades to watch, yet not march in.
Daddy was questioned; at school I had no choice
But to stand in corners, not show my face, my sin!

I hated all his women, I hated all my schoolmates!
I hated empty bottles that mom left all around!
I hated all my neighbors who locked me out of gates,
I couldn’t reach my cot; to hate I did give ground!

My body shaking, cries muted, they shaved my head!
Hospital staff forcefully fed me, upon daddy’s request.
Saturday May morning, they found my father dead!
Mom cried, I cried for her; perhaps now we can rest…

No husband, no more father is such a crying shame!
Dressed all in black and starving worse than before
Mom met a widowed man; once more I was the game.
Pawn to be shifted, here and there; hate to the core!!!

It didn’t last too long before this dad was killed too.
I held his bloody neck and tried to pull the knife.
I woke up two days latter, washed off the sticky goo
And mommy was in black again, nobody’s wife…

No one set home, no school, no mates; a crazy kid!
Math teacher feeling my budding tits and skinny ass.
Please, help me God, no more! Whatever that I did
Don’t make me suffer longer, I’m just a scared lass…

I hate my body, just bluish skin and jutting bones!
I hate my mind, too petrified to say another word!
I hate my days, my nights, all filled with moans
Red, hazy lights, spread all around my gourd!

I hate this hate! I long for peace and gentle love…
Sleep won’t come, fear covers me in a frozen sweat.
That knife is big, I’ll fall and it will surely shove
Through hateful heart I’ve grown. That was my bet!

by lonely wolf

Author’s Comments:
“I am sorry if this is disturbing to some. It is the purging. To this
day nobody really knows who killed my father. He was found incoherent
in his hospital duty room on May 6th and the idiots took him to
another hospital to save him . He died on route. We lost the
government subsidized housing and ended up living in the streets,
under bridges. Mom met a very nice man while working. They got
married. He was killed by someone in his native village. Mom and I
went there in the middle of the night, in time to say goodbye, I
fainted and didn’t wake for 2 days, forgotten in a corner by the
grieving family.Mom started to drink just before daddy died. She was
never sober after the second husband died and never wore anymore
color, just black. My father had many mistresses he used to bring home
and kick me out when mom was at work. I never said a word, because I
didn’t want ,Mommy to get mad and get beat up again by him. My eyes
grew hooded, my trust diminished to zero. An unmarried or widowed
woman, back then, was a disgrace and something to be spit upon. Never
mind a child without a father!All the adults were nuts, the communists
were nuts and because of my father who was anti communism I was
ostracized. I was living in a world of nuts and they were calling me
nuts. A 9 year old. I had to live up to labels, so my stepfather’s
knife was the solution. I didn’t want to disappoint anyone, still
don’t… Now, they were right! I was nuts! To be continued…”

In 2005 I wrote this poem Nightmare in Yellow” I share it with you now, because I have never written anything like it before or after. I literally felt almost possessed by her history when I wrote it. I gave it to her and she was very moved.

Nightmare In Yellow
for lonely wolf

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Now, a child’s point of view
I peer out from deep inside
stricken, numb, impotent, dumb
for I am not a child
and these are not my eyes.
If I had a box of crayons
the only one I’d chose,
is the sunlight stick
with small black bands
to draw her as she grew

Yellow is the color of the cowards
certainly she is not among them.
Her hero’s gait against her fate
gives witness to her strength,
the skinny posturing bold and straight,
her tight lipped gaze not winsome.

Yellow is the color of the foil wrap
which held the lilacs tight inside their vase,
and from that child’s weeping rims,
I see my mother’s saddened face.
Her mothers broken limbs produce in me,
confusing imagery of time and space.

At her hapless mother’s breakdown,
baton twirling guards march with the band,
while my mom makes a leap from her wagon,
scotch and water with ice in her hand.
But we are still a long time away from
the Gypsies helping hand
or the straggly girl lifting weights
and drinking booze
a knife held tight,
as protection in her land

I come alone to hug her,
to quash the memories of lunatic nights.

Staring from her upstairs window
she paces back and forth,
the yellow in her eyes now waxing bright,
from so much misfortune,
locked inside uptight.
Back and forth her bony haunches lead
her pacing moves her out the door ,
I’m there too her glitter eyes hook
mine to hers and she to me
and we proceed to scratch and pick
our scabs and open sores

I am now in an unwanted sequel
to a terror tale I’ve already seen
and there’s nothing normal about this film,
forming on the dishes to be served,
horror at its crudest and most real,
like the film that forms on the deadened eyes
of the more than one unfortunate
whose soul now in its hell- hole
rots and squeals.

Yellow card
what’s hers what’s mine
who knows
who even cares.
We hold hands to authority’s sneers
while we’re being beaten and rebuked
We swim breast to breast
upstream then down
and comb each others hair
Brush the longs strands, vigorously
separate the satin from the puke
and now we stop and rest and then we share
two
dead father’s who winked from beyond their graves
two
misfiring hearts
in two
malfunctioning mothers
A book of Edgar Allan Poe
too big
for these little mourner’s hands

and two
stolen swigs of beer
by a nine year old who shudders
While the poor fat rabbits and sheep
of her yellow-jaundiced nation
bleed in the flooded streets
another trick gone bad
in the hands of the crazed magician,
Surreal it’s so unreal!
Yellow flags adorn the palace wall
too much heartbreak
too much drain
abuse, then rebirth
from childhood’s pain
I am not sure what visions are mine at all!
As I crawl through her grey days
her fur now surrounds her,
the communist hallways
of infamy
no longer compound her
Free,
she roams poetic country sides
speaks out, a must, no muzzle she abides.
Beautiful face, her purge of soul, God’s grace
In many ways always alone
I whisper, “Destiny,”
Angry yellow eyes that linger long into the night,
Read to me your poem at this bedside,
come and haunt me”

*Dedicated to my fellow poet Marinela Christel (lonely wolf)

Karima Hoisan
2005
Karak Jordan

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21 Responses to Nightmare in Yellow

  1. daleinnis says:

    Wow, that is visceral and raw and moving. It sounds like you really touched each other’s lives. Thank you for trusting us enough to share this!

    Liked by 2 people

    • Thank you so much Dale..We met in a difficult time in my life too and as you said, made an amazing online connection way back then. I tried to find her in fb but it seems she has not posted since 2015….

      Liked by 2 people

  2. Jeff Flesch says:

    Oh, Karima, you know well that your poetry moves me, and this piece here is no exception. It moved me to tears to read, first, Lonely Wolf’s most raw and powerful voice through her amazing words; and then to read your tribute was…words aren’t coming fast enough for the deep feeling and connection I have to this lovely piece. Bravo, my friend. Bravo! ❤️🥰🙏🤗🌺❤️

    Liked by 2 people

    • Oh such a comment Jeff!! I was so unsure about even posting this and seeing this comment of yours makes me so happy I did! Oh yes, her poetry moved me to tears, I was obsessed, felt this agitation inside of me, that didn’t go away until I finally could write my poem to her. Oh my the power of words! Thank you from the bottom of my heart for your words, Jeff..they make me feel it was right to trust my instincts on this one!! It means so much that you had a deep connection to it…Thank you Thank you my friend 🙏🤗❤️🌹🌟

      Liked by 1 person

      • Jeff Flesch says:

        You’re most welcome, dear Karima. It was such an honor to read Lonely Wolf’s words, as I described yesterday, and I just want to add, dear Karima, that your poem was equally as powerful and moved me as your work always does my friend. Just brilliant. ❤🙏✨🦋🌸🤗

        Like

  3. Ace says:

    Wow Karima, this is so rich in emotion and deeply moving. Your words carry such power and strength, and the flow is simply sublime. What a beautiful way to honor your friend, I can feel the special connection between you two through your words. Thank you sharing this part of your journey with us 🙏🏻. Your unique, breathtaking and deeply wise words always connect with my soul. You are a gift 🖤🤗

    Liked by 1 person

    • Dearest Ace..thank you for this reassuring comment. I think she is no longer with us..I saw on her fb where they had tried to do a Go Fund Me for her health problems…then there is nothing after.. I was then inspired to pullout this old poem and share it with my WordPress family.. She was a great influence to me and gave me the confidence to keep on writing in that period of depression and loss.Thank you for being such a beautiful mirror:) when I see me through your poetic eyes…I know my poem did what I had hoped it would. Dear Ace…
      It is you who are a gift to us all:) ❤️🤗🙏🌹🌟

      Liked by 1 person

      • Ace says:

        You’re always welcome, my dear Karima. I am so sorry to hear that. She is always with you in your heart, and your connection is still very much alive…I can feel it. Thank you vulnerably sharing 🙏🏻! Aww you are so kind, always an honor to connect with your pieces 🖤🖤🤗

        Liked by 2 people

  4. Diana says:

    Such beautiful emotions and memories captured in this one, dear Karima. Really wonderful. I love how elegantly you bring out your relationships with people who mattered to you throughout your life. It’s not easy, but with a beautiful heart and soul like yours, the words come so beautifully. Stay blessed and loved always Karima. 😘❤️🙏🤗💐

    Liked by 2 people

    • Habeebity…after reading your elegant posts of hope and inspiration, I wasn’t sure how you would react to “another dark post” on my part..but then I realized I wanted to share Lonely Wolf with all of you, and of course you could find the positive in it..Hugs…Yes she seriously influenced me as a poet, by encouraging me and just connecting in the strongest of literary ways:) Your heart is without walls and you love big and this is very felt by me. Thank you sweet Diana for opening your heart to me too:):) Stay Creative! ❤️🤗🙏🌹🌈

      Liked by 1 person

  5. KK says:

    This post deeply moved me. So raw and real. And your touching tribute to her comes direct from your heart. Thanks for sharing this wonderful post🙏🌺❤️

    Liked by 1 person

    • Oh Kaushal…you found the perfect words…”raw and real” As I said above, she really helped me believe in myself in the budding world of Online Poetry… Through her coaxing and encouraging, I came more into my own..found my rhythm and have been writing pretty steadily, ever since. I think she is no longer with us on the plane…but I am happy I could gift her my poem, in her best moments of Life. Thank you my friend, for taking the time to read my very rare but very long post🙏🌹❤️🌟🌺🤗

      Liked by 1 person

      • KK says:

        Your lost was long, but absorbing one. It’s really nice that you shared her poetry. May peace be upon her. She was a beautiful soul, and so are you to remember her and share her work with us. Stay happy and blessed 🤗🙏💖💐

        Liked by 1 person

  6. I am so glad that you enjoyed getting to know about her a bit. She was also an artist, and her book cover was her painting:) 🙏❤️🌺

    Liked by 1 person

  7. jonicaggiano says:

    What an incredible piece she wrote, how tragic, sad and yet lot of familiar passages that I can relate to unfortunately. Her writing was beautiful. Your poem about her and your friendship is also sad but reassuring in many ways. Communicating with a bird with a broken wing, who needs some help, aren’t we all a bit that way, lucky for her you showed love and a kinship. Bless you for that and bless her soul where ever she is and I pray she is happy as are you. Thank you for sharing her beautiful work and yours. Love and hugs, Joni

    Liked by 2 people

    • Really Joni..in this time, I was captivated by her writing, I was shocked and very moved as I realized my life was so much less traumatic…. and yet she survived..and she wrote about it. I just learned a few days ago, that she passed away in 2015…There was a Go Fund Me for her cremation..but her poetry lives on and in me is her mark too. Thank you Joni for the sensitivity to see so deeply in her work and my own too…Yes, for me her acceptance of my poem as my gift to her meant so much to me..It did cause a bond to form and I will always hold her in my heart. She is finally at peace… Thank you Thank You for this comment 🙏❤️

      Liked by 1 person

      • jonicaggiano says:

        Oh I am so very sorry to hear that she is gone that must be so sorrowful for you. She was a brilliant poet as are you. I know that we can’t compare pain with pain unless we grew along beside suffering the same abuse as the other siblings for example. However your poem to her was incredibly beautiful and it must have meant so much to her to be accepted and loved by someone in the community enough to try and sense that pain and experience it in your heart. I too am glad she is at peace. You are so welcome and I hope your tender heart can have some closure now too. I am sure you will likely never know how much reaching out with acceptance and love meant to her.
        Sending lots of love, hugs and gratefulness. ❤️🤗😘💕🦋🦋Joni

        Liked by 1 person

  8. LaDonna Remy says:

    This is such a deeply stirring piece. Haunting.

    Liked by 2 people

  9. This sure does stay with the reader, pressed to our hearts and mind. Feel the words almost more than read them. Haunting, for sure.

    Liked by 1 person

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