Muffled Screams
Diane Webster

June 16, 2016


The cellar smells
like being buried alive
and awaking like an earthworm
paralyzed to wiggle to the surface
before dirt sucks all moisture away
leaving a fossilized shell
like the shelves of peaches,
apricots, green beans and tomatoes
encased in glass —
formaldehyde specimens
or pharaoh’s favorite bobbles
crowded around him in death.
Eyewitness by the light of the door
or a lone flashlight beam,
but feeble comfort inside the tomb
when the door slams shut
or the battery dies,
and only darkness remains
under the earth mound
with muffled screams inside.


Diane Webster‘s goal is to remain open to poetry ideas in everyday life or nature or an overheard phrase and to write from her perspective at the moment. Many nights she falls asleep juggling images to fit into a poem. Her work has appeared in “Philadelphia Poets,” “Illya’s Honey,” “River Poets Journal” and other literary magazines.

What motivates her to create? 
Like most writers, I have to write. Something triggers my senses, and I start playing with images in my mind. I create a kind of movie, and I describe what I see as it unfolds. The excitement is what corners I turn to discover different directions I can take my images or where my images take me. My environment motivates me to create. Quiet to allow those images to rise and to be written.