0 I'm scared of the masks

I'm scared of...
the masks with soulless painted eyes..
the masks with oddly puckered lips...
did you every notice the eyes following you?
would empty eye sockets not be freakier?
who would want to kiss someone with soulless eyes?

I adore...
the masks worn at masquerade balls that outline the eyes...
the masks that cover the face leaving just your eyes visible...
do you ever find yourself entranced by the eyes behind the mask?
is it easier to see into the soul that way?
might it be wiser to prefer the mask that leaves the lips free to devour?

I'm drawn to...
the masks made of porcelain with elaborate designs like butterflies...
the masks that adorn my walls as individual works of art...
is it creepy to wake to their vacant stare?
is multiple masks in every room a collection or an obsession?
why am i so entranced by these delicate eyeless creatures?

I'm scared of the masks...
I hide behind being as fragile as porcelain...
the masks I hide behind being useless should anyone look into my eyes.

0 had i only known

had i known
my last goodbye would be greeted by cold hard stone...
when it could have been met with a smile and kiss that spoke louder than words...

had i known
my last embrace would be an empty fleeting memory...
no longer possessing the warmth and comfort that holds the power to heal me...

had i known
my last words would dissolve into irrelevant meaningless nothing...
when they could have encased within them the power and strength of my love...

had i known
that is was my last chance...

would it have made things easier to bear...

would i have said and done things differently...
would the tears not flood, threating to drown me, but puddle instead...
would the memory of my last hug hold fresher and warm me when i need it the most...

had i only known

---

'to know or not to know, that is the questions'...how does your last chance at something change with the knowledge that it is your last chance?  this post was inspired in part by Poetic Asides' Wednesday Prompt...and in part by the tears that still threaten to drown me...

0 signs

...continuation of science...
   which is a
...continuation of books...

---

He stepped forward.  His approach seemed to go completely unnoticed as she took a book from the shelves, turned it over and began reading.  There was little doubt that he had entered her space and was within her peripheral range.  She kept her trained on the back of the cover.  He watched as she turned the book over in her hands and read the quotes on the front.  After what seemed like an eternity, she placed the book back on the shelf and shifted to the next bookshelf.  He stared openly at her and saw her shift slightly to push the limits of her vision so he was no longer present.  This was a sign.  He should turn and walk away.  He had found that most people looked up or glanced at someone who approached the same space as them.  She on the contrary seemed to make a point of disregarding his presence.  Walk away.  He told himself.  But something about her intrigued him.  Just as he felt like giving into his rational self, she picked up a book that he had read.  This would be the perfect opening to get her attention and force her to escape the bubble she seemed to have placed around herself.  He stepped closer.  "Amnesia Moon.  It a pretty good book."

---

7 i shall continue

I evade their gaze
for fear they will see through me
for fear I'm an open book they shall choose to close

I form a wedge
between myself and the world that surrounds
between myself and those wishing to get in

I will not buckle
under the pressure of their inquisitive stares
under the pressure of their penetrating words

I shall continue
head down to evade their eyes
arms spread wide reinforcing the wedge between
mind strong so as not to buckle to their desires
        or those that taunt my own heart

---

inspiration for this poem comes from Three Word Wednesday [3WW=>buckle, evade, wedge].

0 My love's scared of monkeys

My love's scared...
of monkeys wearing top hats...
of monkeys carrying pocketbooks...
why would a monkey wear a top hat?
have you ever seen a money with a pocketbook?
does this mean I can't take her to the zoo?

My love's scared...
of snow surrounding her feet...
of snow sticking to the cuffs of her pants...
what if her feet are in boots?
should I suggest she only were skirts when it snows?
does this mean I'll have to carry her to the car?

My love's scared...
of elevators that creak as they rise...
of elevators filled with people...
why'd she rent a place on the seventh floor?
did she test out the elevator before hand?
does this mean we can't be in an elevator together?

My love's scared of monkeys...
wearing top hats and carrying pocketbooks...
of monkeys shooting her dead.

---

i'm exploring my creative side in a whole new way. it started with a Poetic Asides' 2011 Poetic Form Challenge and a poem i wrote awhile back. i toyed with the form again to see if it had merit...now i'm playing with the form for a bit of variation...next is setting down the rule in a logical, followable, non-confusing way...we'll see where it all leads... 

0 sketches

...continuation of drawings...

He stood staring into the window.  His eyes sought the object of his obsession.  Obsession was the only word he could use to describe the emotions that tormented him.  He had purposely avoided the cafe for the past two weeks.  Somehow he had figured that if he didn't see her, she would slowly but surely disappear from him mind. It had not worked.  Her image was engraved upon his brain.  Every time he picked up a pencil or pen he found himself sketching her from memory.  Charcoals seemed to me his favorite medium as of late.  For the life of him, he could not understand how someone could weasel their way so easily into his heart.  He looked at her, sitting surrounded as always by stacks of papers.  He wanted to deny that his heart was involved, but the tightening in his chest told him his heart was completely taken by her.  The first time he saw her, she had stolen his breath.  Even the way she seemed so oblivious to the world around her brought a smile to his lips.  He wanted so badly to shake her out of her trance and open her eyes to the world around her.  Instead, he sat there silently and sketched.  Somehow he just couldn't seem to capture her just right.  Several times he had tried to catch her attention, but he had failed miserably save that one day.  He had asked to borrow a chair.  And finally, she pulled her gaze away from her work and looked at him.  If he hadn't noticed the tug at his heart strings before, that moment he found himself completely rapt.  But all she did was nod.  She didn't say a word.  He probably would have stopped coming at that point, however, he felt drawn.  He spent another two weeks just sitting there hoping that maybe what he had seen her eyes in that moment was a twinkle of what he felt.  After watching her for those weeks continue to work as though that connection had not occurred was more than he could handle.  The only way he thought he might be able to let go of her was to walk away and clear his mind of her image.  But she had continued to haunt him.  Each day for the past two weeks her image plagued him.  Where before he might only see her image floating before him once or twice, he was now constantly picturing her.  He gazed at her through the window, watched her work, and wondered if she had even noticed he was gone.  The ache in his heart at the thought that he might never know hurt more than he cared to admit.  He looked down at his feet and contemplated what he should do.  Move on, was what is brain was telling him.  One more look, was what his heart was asking for.  He looked up once more.  He didn't need to memorize the moment or the way she looked because he lived and breathed it every second of everyday.  With a sigh he began to turn his gaze away from the window.  Out of the corner of his eye he saw her look up.  He turned back to find her looking directly at him.  The left corner of her mouth lifted into a half smile.  Her eyes seemed to soften.  She leaned down, never once breaking eye contact and withdrew a piece of paper from her bag.  He watched her eyebrows raise in a questioning manner as she turned the paper toward him.  There staring back at him was the last sketch he had made of her before his hiatus from the cafe.  It had been a decent sketch, but compared to her it had been pitiful.  So, like most of his cafe sketches of her it had ended up in the trash.  How she had come to possess it was beyond him.  But he had every intention of finding out.

5 I fear for my heart

I fear that...
my heart cannot withstand the pain...
my heart is too weak to survive...
will you hold it close to your own?
is that too much to hope for?
should I prepare for the hurt?

I fear that ...
my heart is too fragile...
my heart does not think rationally...
will you handle it with care?
am I expecting too much?
should I wrap it with bubble wrap?

I fear that...
my heart gives more than it has...
my heart break into a million pieces...
will return its affection as strongly?
can I believe in you?
should I walk away know before it's too late?

I fear that my heart...
will never recover from you...
that my heart will forever be lost to you.

---

i'm not really sure what it is i fear here.  is it loosing love or finding love?  inspiration for this post came from Poetic Asides' Wednesday Prompt.

3 Battle for Dominance

the silence of the room is deafening
his ears feel like they might explode
unwilling to back down
he holds his ground

the penetrating stare bores into him
his chest feels like it might implode
he stands firm
unwilling to budge

the tension in the room begins to melt
his body finally begins to relax
unwilling to give in
he made his point

the victory tugs at his emotions
his heart feels like it might smile
he has met his objective
unwilling to deviate

the mind opens to possibilities
his internal smile feels like it could light the world
unwilling to bend
he can now educate

---

inspired by Three Word Wednesday [3WW=>educate, object(ive), silence].

1 befuddled

i really like that word...befuddled...anyway...

i don't know how i managed to get myself sucked back into writing sevenlings.  my first attempts left me so uncertain...did they really fit the rules?  i blame the whole 'power of three'.  that is was i have affectionately deemed the rule for the to two tercets...

"the first three lines should contain an element of three. It could be three connected or contrasting statements, a list of three details or names, or something else along these lines. The three things can take up all three lines or be contained anywhere within the stanza."  (Poetic Asides, 2009)

i can live with the whole list of three details or names, that is pretty straight forward, but 'three connected or contrasting statements...or something along these lines'.  really?  i mean why would someone write three lines that weren't connected.  as for the whole contrasting statement part...if two or more things are contrasting, then there has to be a connection between them right?  and what about the 'or something along those lines'?  At least the list of details or names is an obvious thing that can be pick out of the tercets, but then, there is the whole part where they can appear anywhere in the stanza.  if they can be anywhere and not a list of things but statements, how are you suppose to identify the three things?  it seems to me the whole rule thing is about the seven lines in two tercets and a single line that has a mysterious, offbeat, and/or disturbing feel.

in short the whole 'power of three' feels to ambiguous, but maybe i'm missing something.  so befuddled with it all, that i refused to name my first two attempts appropriately.  the first definitely fit the whole offbeat feel.  i suppose if i had to classify the 'power of three' it would be as connected statements.  my second attempt was...i'm not really sure...you could check it out for yourself and decide.  as for the 'power of three' well, the first tercet was connected with body parts (her back, her eyes, and trembling lips).  the second tercet was connected by feelings (fear, calm, and love).

anyway, i decided to give it one final go.  my last for awhile...

---

Sevenling (Your laugh sounds like)

Your laugh sounds like nails
scratching on a chalkboard, tires
screeching, and jackhammers on a busy street.

I grew up on country music and reading
Stephen King.  Have you ever heard of
Carrie, Misery, or how about Firestarter?

You have way more to worry about than your car being keyed.

---

0 Sevenling (I remember)

I remember the smell of fresh popped popcorn,
frogs flipping onto lily pads but mostly into water,
and the evil looking clowns drinking from water guns.

I wish to forget the sound of the organ grinder,
the sound of coins clinking against metal, and
the feel of being shot.  But not the lesson learned.

Never trust a monkey wearing a top hat carrying a pocketbook.

---

yet again i toy with the sevenling and the elusive 'power of three'.  i truly thought i had left this form behind.  i realize i own this form much thanks; it is the form that got me started in the exploration of different forms.  but still have my reservations about the rules.  anyway here is my attempt at a more 'mysterious, offbeat, disturbing effort.  inspiration for toying with this form again came from Poetic Asides' challenge.  inspiration for the content came from a time long ago when i was a teen creating my first profile.  it asked for a quote and while i'd guessed they were looking for something well-known, i came up with my own.  it follows me to this day and can be found at the footer of this blog.

0 drawings

She spread the crumpled coffee stained paper out on the table in front of her.  Tears began to swim in her eyes.  Everyday for the past six weeks she had sat here and barely noticed him.  She was too absorbed in her work to even look up from the papers that were always scattered about the table.  When he first approached her to ask to borrow her sugar, she had mindlessly grabbed the container off the table and handed it to him without once looking up.  That had been the first week she had missed him.  The following week he had come over and picked up a piece of paper that she hadn't even realized she had dropped.  She barely took her eyes off her work, her gaze only reaching high enough to see his outstretched hand.  It wasn't until the third week that she had actually looked at him.  He had bumped into her on her way in.  She had barely been able to keep her grasp of the papers and binders she carried.  His voice caught her as he apologized.  She stood puzzled staring at his profile and then retreating form as he made his way out of the door.  The whole walk to the table she racked her mind trying to figure out why his voice had sounded so familiar.  It wasn't until the next week that she found out.  He came over to her table and asked to borrow the empty chair.  The voice registered once again and her brain finally kicked into gear.  For the first time she looked up and saw him, truly saw him.  Her voice caught in her throat, her heart fluttered in her chest, and her mind for the first time in months went completely blank forgetting the work that lay constantly spread in front of her.  She had smiled and nodded, unable to find her voice.  For the next two weeks she found herself unable to do work.  Everyday she did her best to come in, spread out her papers and notes, and pretend like she was engrossed in her work.  He plagued her mind.  She casually watched him out of the corner of her eye and became a perpetual klutz in the hopes that he might once again pick up something she dropped.  Nothing seemed to work.  He simply sat there scribbling or doodling or drawing or something on the paper in front of him.  As inconspicuously as possible she watched him.  Everyday his hand would fly across the paper, he'd drink his coffee, and then crumple the paper up, throw it away and leave.  After two weeks of watching, curiosity finally got the best of her.  She waited a good ten minutes before she got up to throw something away and casually took out his crumpled piece of paper.  She walked back to the table with the paper tucked in the palm of her hand resting against her leg so no one might notice.  Then she pretended to work again for a couple of minutes, her irrational thinking that she shouldn't open it up right away in case anyone noticed and was watching her.  She stared at the drawing.  Her hand reached out gingerly to trace the lines of the face that stared back at her.  She bit her bottom lip to keep the tears and the emotions that were suddenly bombarding her at bay.  So engrossed was she, she didn't notice the cafe employee standing next her.  "I think this one is his best by far."  She looked up at the employee.  "He draws everyday he's here.  The rest of the staff and I have been collecting them.  We have them hanging in the break room if you want to see."  She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out.  She nodded and stood.  He led her back behind the counter through the kitchen into a small room.  There covering the surface of the walls were dozens of drawings.  She gazed from one to the next.  It didn't take long for her to realize they were in chronological order.  Holding the drawing she had skimmed from the trash next to the first, she marveled at how much the face had changed.  The emotions depicted in the first verses the last were so spot on and complete polar opposites.  With the crumpled drawing in hand, she went around the room holding it next to each image.  It didn't take long to spot the change.  She knew exactly what day that picture had been drawn and was entranced by how well the emotions were captured.  She stepped back from the walls and moved toward the door where she could take it all in as a whole.  The employee, gathering that she was done, spoke, "I admit I always thought it a shame that you never noticed."  She just shook her head as almost four dozen pairs of her own eyes stared back at her.

0 Sevenling (I came across)

I came across a receipt in the hamper,
change rattling about in the washing machine,
and a twenty dollar bill in the lint trap.

I turned myself around searching
for my lost marbles, my misplaced lip balm,
and my elusive car keys.  "Where else can I look?"

Aside from the keys in the fridge, I really should check my pockets.

---

keys in the fridge?  i had thought to leave them in the door, but that was too obvious...the fridge is a trick my dad uses when he needs to remember to take something from the fridge to work with him...i know for a fact they're sitting in there right now next to the lamb.

so this is my third attempt at constructing a sevenling.  this is the first attempt that feels somewhat successful.  the whole "power of three" has be a bit befuddled (i really wanted to use that word...it's on my list with gobbledygook and bamboozled as fun words to say...anyway as i was saying...a bit befuddled), but that is a rambling for another day.  this particular post was inspired by Poetic Asides' Wednesday Prompt, as well as it's challenge.  

4 BETS

BETS
wagers
high stake risks

dabbling with bookies
a debt I need now pay
with money or utter pain

"gambling can lead to lean pockets"

---

i decided to dabble a bit more with poetic form.  this turned out to be a very lean clarity pyramid.  after much back and forth with the initial triplet, i uttered a sigh of relief as i counted out the last eight syllables.  this post was inspired by Three Word Wednesday [3WW=dabble, lean, utter].

0 love, hope and lonely

"at last / my love has come along / my lonely days are over / and life is like a song"

i don't sing, yet somehow these words continue to plague me;  luckily there is no one around as i belt them out.  maybe it's the desire that seems to be torturing me as of late.  i want my 'at last'.

i want to experience love...genuine reciprocated love.  it need to last; it could be fleeting; i just want to know that it's possible...that it exists.

i still carry hope within my heart.  i've lied to myself about being resigned to the inevitable; i'm not.  not yet, at least.  hope seems to be relentless; like a bad cold that won't go away.  odd that i'd wish it to go away.  but hope leaves you wide open to disappointment, loss, and pain.  i really don't need anymore of those things in my life.  i wish there was a cure, a little pill you could take to make it go away.  but what would life be like without hope.

i'm not ready to give up.  i'm not ready to resign myself to the possibility of nothing.  would it be easier to give it up if i knew the alternative was possible...if i were to experience the alternative no matter how brief?  if you know something is possible...if you achieve something...if you feel the accomplishment of something...do you need to repeat it?  i suppose i know the answer to that.  i suppose the answer will not be to my liking.

"at last / my love has come along / my lonely days are over / and life is like a song"

i get stuck on the word lonely.  i'm not sure if i find it or if it finds me that i'll be able to let it in.  lonely is a dear friend.  it is what i know.  it is who i am.  i'm not sure i can break up with lonely.

"but once you've learned to be lonely / and lonely is the only thing you've know / it begins to feel like home / it becomes your comfort zone"

0 science

...continuation of books...

---

He stood there and watched her for a moment.  He couldn't really say what it was about her, but something seemed different about the way she made her way through the shelves of books.  She seemed so engrossed, as though she were outside of the world she stood in.  A part of him wanted to walk away so as not to disturb the peaceful trance the books appeared to have on her.  Walking away would be the smart thing to do.  She was not his usual target.  Under normal circumstances his words would be cruel, but here even more so.  He could hide behind the guise of science.  It would be easy enough to blame his actions on science.  His experiment, however, was very specific.  And she did not fit the profile.  With any good experiment there needed to be some type of control group.  The need to limit the variables was crucial in turning conjecture into well-founded fact.  He glanced over his shoulder at his friend only to be greeted with an encouraging nod.  Turning back to his quarry and shook his head at himself for what he was about to do.

---

0 Insanity

Insanity
walks with me like a faithful friend.
Insanity
speaks in tongues of profanity
pouring (from my lips) without end.
I walk on with hope to transcend
insanity.

---

today's poetic exertion is called a rondelet...and yes, once again i find myself toying with a poetic form that involves repetition...

update (06/14/2013):  upon review of this poem and the poetic form, i have realized an error in the fifth line; it originally had five syllables instead of the intended eight.  to correct this, i have added an additional three syllables; they can be found within the parentheses, which will remain as an entity of the poems construction (i.e. i like the look of the parentheses).

2 Creatures of the Night

Streets
at nightfall
bring forth the crazies,
prowling for tasty morsels;
souls,
judged worthy of their sweet kiss,
run fruitlessly; hope
for safety
dashed

---

attempt #2 at a Butterfly Oddquain.  additional inspirations for this post came from Three Word Wednesday [3WW=>judge, nightfall, safety], as well as Poetic Asides' Wednesday Poetry Prompt.  part of me thought to entitle it vampires, but i felt 'creatures of the night' worked a bit more.  i'm not really good at the whole punctuation thing.  probably should have just left it without, but i am rather fond of commas.  as for the semicolons, well their half comma so...

0 the note

The knock startled her out of her daze.  She sat up in the chair and looked at the screen in front of her.  The video had stopped.  When, she couldn't say.   Apparently she had zoned out.  It seemed like she had been doing that a lot these past couple of days.  The culprit starred back at her on the monitor.  She felt a small tug in her chest, just as the knock sounded again.  "Come in," she called.

The door opened slowly.  Mark shuffled back and forth in the doorway.  While he was an unusually hyper person, the movement reminded Jaycie more of someone who was nervous.  He stood there quietly in the open doorway; his gaze on the floor in front of his feet.  "Is something wrong, Mark?"

"Umm,"  he said as he lifted his head from the floor to meet her eyes.  "I'm not sure."

Jaycie couldn't help but smile.  It seemed strange how often she had found herself smiling lately.  Her eyes darted back to the screen for a split second before refocusing on the antsy intern standing at her door.  "Well, why don't you tell me what's on your mind and we can figure it out together."

"I know you said things were finished.  And I figured that meant that things hadn't gone well again and that you  wouldn't be continuing the sessions anymore.  I got the impression that you were going to move on the next person, but he was really insistent.  He said you two had agreed to give it one more go.  He was very insistent."  The spewed from his lips at such a rate that it took Jaycie some time to process his words.  She felt the tug at her chest again and bit her bottom lip in response.  It was crazy how much a single person could have such an effect on her.  It had been so long since someone had managed to get under her skin like this.

When Jaycie didn't respond right away, he took a breath and continued.  "I can call him and cancel if you want."  His eyes again became glued to the floor.  "I knew I should of checked with you first," he mumbled under his breath.

Jaycie had to say his name twice to get his attention again.  "It's okay.  Don't worry about it.  I'll give it one more go."  Mark seemed to still at her words.  "When is the next appointment?"

"Monday at 10."  His gaze shifted from the monitor to her.  "Are you sure you don't want me to cancel?  I don't want to mess up your research."

A small laugh escaped her lips as she shook her head.  "No, it is all good.  The more input I get the better.  I would hate to have wasted two sessions, if I can salvage them."

"Okay."  Mark nodded and started to back out of the room before stopping.  "Oh, I almost forgot.  He asked me to give this to you."  He held out a small piece of paper toward her.

After she took the paper, Mark turned and walked out of the room.  Jaycie sat there starring at the note in her hand.  She couldn't seem to place the feeling that was gnawing at her.  Finally, she shook off the unidentifiable feeling and opened the note.

Don't blame Mark.  I was very persuasive.  Anyway, I wish I could explain this need for me to get to know you more before we share such an intimate connection.  But I promise, ready or not, Monday is the day.  I was hoping, though, I might have at least one more opportunity to just talk.  Maybe you could give me that and an opportunity to apologize for being such a pain.  Coffee at Maurice's Cafe?  Tomorrow 5 o'clock?  I'll be there.  Hopefully, I'll see you.


After reading the note through a third time for good measure.  She folded it up and put it in her pocket before turning back to the monitor and continuing her transcription.

0 forever

me, love you?
why wonder? 
you fear I don't,
but yes, many times yes, dear;
deep burns love my darling
strong and bright
growing
~forever~
growing
bright and strong
darling my love burns deep.
dear yes, times many yes.
but don't I fear,
you wonder why,
you love me.

---

yet again, i have found myself toying with a palindrome.  one would think i'd learned my lesson, but apparently not.  i'd have to say that thus far this might be my favorite.  of course that is not saying much when i considered my other attempts 'so - so'.  (darling & fragile)

0 LEARN

LEARN
research
discover

internet searches
disect the web address
or find crazy made up facts

"don't believe everything you read"

---

exploration of yet a new form of poetry:  Clarity Pyramid.  i wanted to use url instead of web address, but i wasn't sure how to count syllables on an abbreviation. 

0 magic and fairy tales

"Happy endings happen all the time."

do they really?  i know i'd like to believe they do.  of course i'd also like to believe in magic and fairy tales.  the ideas of possibilities, fate, destiny, and magic help me breath when the world seems to be crashing down on me. hope.  i'm amazed i still possess such a thing, but there is still a part of me that hopes--a part of me that believes anything is possible.  how long i'll be able to maintain that is anyones guess.

i feel so selfish at times.  is it wrong to want my own happy ending?  is it wrong to wish for a miracle?  is it wrong to want to believe in magic?  i'm not looking for a fairy tale.  i'm well aware it will take far more than a knight in shining armor to break through the wall of thorn bushes i've surrounded myself with, to defeat the fire breathing dragon that protects be from myself, and to wake me from this sleep that continually beckons to me and takes over my very being.

"Happy endings happen all the time."  wanting my own...wishing for my own...won't make it happen.  i need to believe.  and i'm not so sure i have it in me.

0 Kiss

Tears
cascade down
leaving wavy paths;
glistening trails of sadness
kiss
at the corners of a frown
longing for the taste
of someone's
lips

---

my latest trek into new poetic form has taken me into a variation of a Oddquain--this poem would be classified as a Butterfly Oddquain.

2 Right Before My Eyes

She sat at her desk.  Her chair turned to the side as she gazed mindlessly out the window.  The music playing in the background seemed to seep into her soul.  Grace, her secretary, had been kind enough to leave her alone today by diverting calls and handling the emergencies with ease.  Another sigh escaped her lips as she watched the rain fall from the heavens.  It felt has though her brain had ceased to exist, forget about working since yesterday.  She felt so a drift.  The music broke through the veil of depression that coated her.  Reba's unmistakable voice assaulted her across the room, "...this whole house needs a love revival, a love revival, up in here...."

A soft scornful laugh escaped her lips.  "It a little late for that," she mumbled to herself.  She leaned back in the chair and rested her head.  Her gaze focused on a small little crack in the paint on the ceiling.  Silently she cursed herself for being so stupid.  If she had paid the slightest attention....  If she had just opened her eyes and looked....  It wouldn't have taken any extra effort on her part to see the signs.  Now it all seemed so plain.  She had been so blind.  Her eyes closed as she began to think of all of the small subtle signs that had she been paying any type of attention to she would have seen and maybe been able to change the demise of her marriage.

---

After seeing this weeks words for Three Word Wednesday [3WW=>demise, effort, revival], the first thing that came to mind was Reba McEntire's song Love Revival.  The second thing that came to mind was an old poem (see below) that spoke to the demise of a relationship.  Given those two separate, yet strangely related thoughts, it took little effort to bring this contribution to life.

---

--Subtle Signs
An empty pillow lay beside my head
the covers flat and still
my heart longing
for the time when they were filled
Sudden?
No.
So content was I with someone by my side
Subtle changes lay overlooked and ignored
the brushing of my hair from my face
the peck on my forehead as I lay fast asleep
the reaching for my hand under the restaurant table
the glance and smile from across a crowded room
the giving of a flower from out of the blue
the outstretching hand as my door opened
Gestures which stopped
as he faded away
Sudden?
No.
The signs were clear as day
I just did not wish to see
his love leaving me

---

0 Quinzaine: Caring

#1
Caring is overrated.
Why should I bother?
Do you care?

#2
I no longer wish to care.
Will it hurt less if
I don't care?

---

i suppose the theme for today's quinzaines are a tad depressing. i really need to start working on raising my happy meter.

0 Peacefully

She sleeps so peacefully, yet not at all
the world seems to stop, slip away, and fall
disappearing right in front of my eyes
threatening to tare away my disguise
     Why does everything suddenly seem small?

Time ticks and fear begins to creep and crawl
building within me, it constructs a wall
holding back the tears that are on the rise
threatening to pour like dark cloudy skies
     She sleeps so peacefully...

She lays there so still, covered in her shawl.
How do I reverse this?  How do I stall?
How do I let go of my fear? my guise?
I'm just not ready to say my goodbyes.
It's too soon for her to answer this call.
     She sleeps so peacefully...

---

thought i'd explore a new form...rondeau.  took a bit of an effort to get through this.  all was not as easy a word for rhyming.  as for eyes, i ended up switching to it after writing the first stanza with hole as the second rhyme.  the toughest part though was the wall that once kept the tears at bay has begun to crack and crumble.

0 quicksand

i sink a little bit more every day.  i do my best not to struggle for fear the movement will cause me to sink faster in the abyss.  i can feel the pull dragging me down deeper and deeper into its welcoming arms.  arms that seem to hold the potential for peace and calm.  but that's just a mirage.  it's sweet beckoning call is like a siren tune carrying away sailors to their death is a trap.  i'm stuck waiting to be rescued.  i'm just not sure in which direction i should look for help.  so every day i'll continue to sink a bit further and try my best not to struggle too much, but maybe that's the problem.  Maybe struggling is the solution.

0 Quinzaine: Future

#1
The future is in your hands.
Will you rise up to
the challange?

#2
I fear what the future holds.
Is it all I wish?
Should I hope?

---

in the search for inspiration, i came across this new form of poetry:  quinzaine.

0 haiku

#1
barren winter trees
mirror the image below
or do roots now bloom

#2
the first snowfall looms
barren limbs dusted in white
a picturesque site

---

i'm not sure what it is about trees free of their leaves that i find so incredibly beautiful.  maybe it's the fact that they are now completely bare; their perfections and flaws no longer hidden beneath a mass off blooms or foliage.  i feel like somehow that statement reveals a lot about myself and i'm not so sure it's a good thing.

0 encounter #52...session 2...continued...

Him:  How does it work?
Her:  It's a bit complicated.  I don't exactly see what the future has in store for people.

[She paused and looked down at her gloveless entwined fingers.]

Her:  What I see is the moments and events that the person and I share.  In some cases, depending on personalities and compatibility that may be quite a lot.  But more often than not the relationship is superficial.  More acquaintance than friend.  So while I can see a potential future if my path and theirs continued to cross, I don't see everything.  I'm not sure that makes sense, but I'm not sure how else to explain it.
Him:  So is it possible for you to see and feel nothing.  If you have nothing in common with the other person and you would never be friends, might you not see anything at all.

[She sighed and shook her head.]

Her:  If only it were that simple.  I always feel and see something.  Sometimes it is quicker than others.  But I the experience is very out of body and overwhelming.  It is just easier to avoid touch.  Besides those I most would want to get close to are the ones who will provide the most fodder for my gift.

[She stood up and walked toward the middle of the room away from him.]

Him:  That must be hard.

[He stared at her until she turned around.  She met his gaze and shrugged in reply.  He looked off to the side as though he were thinking. He turned back as the thought took hold.]

Him:  You had a boyfriend.
Her:  I believe we covered that.
Him:  What about sex?

[She stared at him for a moment.  She jaw obviously tensed as she grated her teeth together.  She took a visible breath and looked at the clock on the wall.  She pulled her gloves from her pocket and begins to put them on.]

Her:  It's late.  I think it is time we call this quits.

[He watched her for a minute, opening his mouth as though to argue.  He stopped, shut his mouth, shook his head and stood.]

Him:  Okay, I'll see you...

[She shook her head and interrupted him.]

Her:  I think it would be best to call things quits completely.  It has already been two sessions and I really can't continue to waste time.
Him:  Look I promise next time...
Her:  This is best.  Have a good evening.

[She turned abruptly and walked out of the room.]

0 release

i've imagined the knife piercing my chest more times than i can say

not is some unfulfilled wish to leave this world behind 

though i'd be lying if i didn't say the wish has crossed my mind

the thought is more symbolic of what i so long for

release

somehow i picture that knife and the chasm it forms as a release

it allows all of the pain that constantly plagues me to escape

like steam from a sewer grate or a geyser erupting its pent up rage

and for a small tiny moment just that simple image i conjure has the desired effect

the pressure lightens within me—if ever so brief—and i feel that which i crave

release

0 Letting Go

I desperately want to hide
hide away somewhere secure and safe
safe from the torture of being unable to do something
something they should be doing but lack action

I don't want to me near the craziness
craziness that is perpetuated over and over
over time you'd think it would balance
balance so the craziness didn't cause such detriment

I know I'm taking the cowards way out
out of the bureaucracy that ties my hands
hands that long to get dirty and yet are useless
useless and unable to make a big wave

So I rather hide away from it all and ignore
ignore what I cannot change and yet needs to
to bury myself back in the trenches
trenches where I can make small waves of change

---

thought i'd try something new...loop poetry.  it worked well enough for expressing my current state of frustration and hopelessness.

1 Broken Promise

She stood abruptly, tucked her clutch under her arm, turned away from the table and walked off.  He watched her retreating form, marveling at the way her hips swayed even as stormed off.  She hadn't slapped him.  That had to be a good sign.  But she hadn't said anything either.  Not one single word escaped her lips as he bared his heart to her.  She had sat surprising still and silent.  Though he could see her jaw was clenched and her breathing had slowed.  Both where signs that she was doing her best to hold back the tears.

His gazed turned back to her half eaten plate.  Was it wrong to have hoped she would have been delighted by his news?  Was he fooling himself?  There was no doubt he was taking a chance in telling her.  He was, after all, breaking his promise to her.  She had been so clear about her feelings and expectations up front.  And given such an amazing proposition, how could he not have agreed.  He was a man after all.  He should have been happy with what he had, with what she was willing to give.  But no, he wanted more.  Was that really a crime?

He definitely was not going to give up this easily.  Somewhere deep down inside her he knew she too felt as he did.  Somehow he had to show her it was okay to accept those feelings.  He needed to show her it was okay to accept his feelings.  It didn't matter how many times she walked away from him, how many times she slammed the door in his face, nor how many times she deleted his emails and hung up on him.  Whether she wanted to hear it or not, he was going to tell her over and over again how much he loved her.

As he shook his head at his stupidity, sigh escaped him.  He should never have agreed to the type of relationship she wanted.  And he definitely should not have promised not to fall in love with her.

---

Inspiration for this post came from Three Word Wednesday [3WW=>clutch, delight(ed), happy].  I feel like its missing something...like something is off or lacking...I don't know, maybe it's just my current mood...

0 Reinventing Myself

“Life isn’t about finding yourself. Life is about creating yourself.” ~ George Bernard Shaw


every day i have searched
endlessly and with quiet resolve
i have searched
within 
without
and all about
i have searched
and nothing
i have found nothing
every day i have pondered
tirelessly and with quiet resolve
i have pondered
inwardly
outwardly
and all around
i have pondered
and nothing
i have uncovered nothing
every day
for nothing
i have searched and pondered
when i should have been reinventing and creating

0 Music To My Ears

Such a sweet sound
it tickles my ear like a laugh
drawing me in, it opens my heart
how she purses her lips
lets the air begin to flow
and whistles a tune of happiness

Small little burst of happiness
found in the sound
that erupts in a steady flow
of giggles that turn into a breathless laugh
she looks at me and covers her lips
and I feel the swell of my heart

Tiny little hand curve into a heart
in her effort to share her happiness
she takes her hand to her lips
blows me a kiss without a sound
as I catch it to me, she tries to hold back the laugh
while I work to control the emotions that wish to flow

Her laughing fit causes the tears to flow
the beating of her tiny heart
speeds up with every laugh
leaving her breathless with happiness
and I cherish the sound
that continues to pour from her lips

A soft spoken song escapes her lips
as she dances, her hips flow 
such a sweet sound
she begins to belt out the words straight from her heart
her eyes closed in a her world of happiness 
and I feel the need to laugh

Just a simple laugh 
a smirk of the lips
all in the name of happiness
she has no fear to hold back the flow
she lets all the feeling in her heart
with such a whimsical and enchanting sound

I get caught in the sound of your laugh
it tugs at my heart and pulls at the corners of my lips
tears threaten to flow as you pull me into your happiness

---

so i decided to try something a little different...something a bit more happy.  for inspiration, i challenged myself with another new poetic form, sestina.  it was a bit tricky to figure out the pattern of the words, but when i went back to check that i had the words in the right order, i figured out how the pattern actually worked.  believe it or not, the order from one stanza to the next is not arbitrary.  

0 haunting my thoughts...

"happiness is mood not a destination"

i can't speak for others, but i suppose i do look at happiness as a destination.  somewhere i need to get to.  something i need to reach for, look for, strive for.  if i get this...if i do this...if i don't do this...if things go as planned...than happiness will follow.  and i don't think that is necessarily a bad thing.  i guess the problem comes when happiness fades and disappears.  when reaching 'happy', it is as though you finally made it.  that all your worries and fears can subside.  but it's a mood.  and like all moods it comes and goes.  if there are enough 'happy' things in our lives than the shift from unhappiness to happiness will not take long.  if by default you are a happy person, everything you are surrounded by makes you happy and you have a fullfilled life, than the mood switch won't last and you will find yourself in happiness.

my problem is my general mood state is not 'happy'.  for me happiness is fleating.  even surrounded by things that would make a normal person generally 'happy', i am stuck in the world of unhappiness.  so i look forward to those moments...that pitstop along the road of life that provides me with a genuine feeling of happiness.  like most pitstops they are short and distance between is greater than you'd like. 

"happiness is a mood not a destination."  hmm...

0 a whisper and a touch

He came up behind her and whispered words in her ear that made her blush.  His hand brushed against the bare skin just below her dress and she felt her blush spread and the warmth of the evening invaded her.  His other hand slid slowly across her stomach; his gentle embrace gave her permission to let herself melt back into him.

0 or maybe...

i apologize in advance for the inane ramblings that are about to ensue.  i also apologize for getting lost.  i seem to have lost myself somewhere and am trying to find my way back.  not an easy task, but i'm working on it.  anyway...


i think i steal other people's dreams.  maybe not steal, so much as borrow, invade, trespass or something of the sort.  i know i have a relatively over active imagination that i quite often ignore, but there is no way that my subconscious is able to concoct such outlandish dreams or such realistic ones.  and it seems odd to me that i rarely play myself.  i am always someone else, or i watch from the outside like a movie...i even jump from character to character.  every once in a while i think about the fact (or at least i remember hearing it as such) that  frankenstein came from dream.  and i wonder if maybe that is the real purpose behind them.  to inspire something more.  of course i'd have to remember them for that to happen right.  at least more than the bits and pieces that linger.  and i'm so not a morning person, so there is no way i'm waking and writing down the thoughts before they fly out of my head.  anyway that is besides the point.  i wonder if it is possible to invade someone else's dreams.  i have always believed that there is the possibility that if we were able to tap into certain parts of our brain we would be...i don't know that psychic is exactly the word i'm looking for, but in that realm of things.  when we sleep, we open our subconscious to those things we perceive as impossible.  similar to the idea of young children being more in tune to fairies and ghosts because they lack the logic and realistic world we adults force upon ourselves.  they still believe in the impossible.  well, i think it's possible that those boundaries we put up open up when we sleep.  maybe i do dream the future and thus why i have deja vu moments or maybe i do invade other people's dreams or maybe i see fairies and ghosts when i sleep or maybe my creative side that i have chained up and left to shrivel and die of starvation is making a stand and invading my dream to inspire me.

or maybe...

0 brain wars

i'm a numbers person.  not the show numb3ers, though i must admit it was an enjoyable show to watch.  but that is besides the point.  i'm a numbers person.  i am logical, practical, detailed oriented, and ruled by facts.  in short, my left brain rules.  it has since probably about eighth grade.  its need to push its way to the forefront was probably a self-defense mechanism.  my irrational and erratic thoughts needed some semblance of peace, order and structure.  my left brain was the cure.  still is.  my right brain doesn't quite like that.  it is starving to get out and explore.  i try my best to give it its due, but is not easy to do.  it struggles and in turn it acts up inappropriately or not at all.

i like seeing possibilities.  i like following a hunch.  i like seeing the big picture.  i like believing in more than what i see.  i wish i could let my right brain come out and play more often.  i wish i could open myself up to its potential and not be scared of what might come.  i wish...

1 fragile

thoughts moving rampantly

cause coursing tremors

pushing boundaries

forming unseen cracks

feeling I'm 

~fragile~

I'm feeling

cracks unseen forming

boundaries pushing

tremors coursing cause

rampantly moving thoughts

---

For the life of me I cannot say why I felt compelled to try my hand at another palindrome poem.  Wrapping my brain around the wrapping words that must form some sense of cohesiveness is not easy or fun.  I suppose I like the challenge.  And even though I'm have yet to find my rhythm for creating this type of poetry, there is satisfaction in the accomplishment (even when it only turns out so-so).

Inspiration for this poem came from Three Word Wednesday [3WW=>fragile, rampant(ly), tremor(s)].  Fragile was used as the mirror...wasn't really working until I changed "I am" (which would reflect as "am I") to "I'm" (which reflects as "I'm")...

0 fortune cookie #3

"You will be happy in receipt of good news."

Seriously!  What kind of stupid saying is that?  Logically speaking, the news can only be good if it makes you happy.  And what about 'no news is good news'?  Does that mean that aside from receiving bad news you should always be happy?  

Who wouldn't be happy with good news?  But then again, one person's views on what makes news good may not be the same as someone else's.  So in that case good news would not lead to happiness.  But then technically, it is not good news, at least not to the person who sees it as bad news.

I think I'm beginning to talk in circles.  How about we change it to a more interesting fortune.  "You will be sad in receipt of good news."  Now think about some good news that could yield sadness...that I can do...but I'd rather not....

Good news doesn't guarantee happiness, but what other kind of new would bring about such a feeling?

0 sleep calls to me

sleep calls to me
whispering sweet nothings in my ear
constantly i hear it crooning
it pulls at me
it nudges me
it sings to me
sleep calls to me
whispering promises of tranquility in my ear
constantly i hear it tune
it pulls at my eyelids
it nudges my head
it sings to my heart
sleep calls to me
too often
still i find myself yielding to its powers

0 bella luna

tonight has the most beautiful full moon.  i was outside during the moon's brightest point.  it was gorgious...howl worthy.  and yes, we did indeed howl.  i can only imagine how bright it would be if not surround by the parking lot lights.  it's times like this i wonder what it would be like to live far out in the country were the only thing that shines at night are the stars and the moon.

0 Unspoken

I am not worth it
I don't deserve it
that is what I heard
that is not what he said
but that is what I heard
the words still resound in my ears
they chip away at my already weak core
I'm not worth it
I don't deserve it
that is what I believe
that is not what he said
but that is what I heard
the words he spoke were not about me
they exude love for someone dear
their truth I agree with and understand
and yet my ill mind has turned them around
twisted them and pointed them at me
I'm not worth it
I don't deserve it
that is what I heard
that is not what he said
but I hear his words directed at someone else
and I can't help but wonder
why he's never said them to me
am I not worthy of them
do I not deserve the same
I hear what is not spoken
I hear what is buried deep down within
I hear the fear that consumes me
the fear that wonders if his words
not spoken for me
are a testament to the fact
that he
like me
believes
I am not worth it
I do not deserve it

0 books...

She stood staring at the shelves line with books.  Her eyes scanned the titles, took in the look of the spin or the cover if the book was turn out and felt her tension begin to dissipate.  Here inside this giant room, surounded by books, she found a peace that eluded her elsewhere.  She itched reach out and touch the books, run her hand over them, and feel the last of her anxiety vanish.  Books had an unusual affect on her.  She couldn't explain what exactly it was, but she accepted it without question even though being here with people milling around everywhere only helped to feed into her angst.  It was an odd battle these two entities envoked within her.  The need to run and escape the world was intense, but the pull of the books and the calming feeling they brought to her was a need she had to obey.

4 With Every Word... In Every Action...

I fear ridicule
like an arachnophobe fears the eight legged spider
deep in the vast space of my mind
I feel them staring at me
I see them waiting for me to mess up
I hear them laughing at me
deep inside the recesses of my soul
the idea of being mocked
criticized
looked upon as though I have three heads
feasts on me
with every word I speak
in every action I take

Every day I fight
like an underdog battles for dominance
deep in my mind I have my own cheer squad
they whisper to me every time I open my mouth
"Hiss, Boo, Bah"
their cheer sounds in my head with every move I make
"Hiss, Boo, Bah"
deep in my soul their chant echoes
the paranoia of being teased
taunted
followed by eyes I image are watching me
eats away at me
with every word I speak

in every action I take

I hope to be released
like an innocent prisoner absolved of his crime
deep within I rage against my mind to no avail
my eyes focus on the bottle
one pill might provide me relief
all pills guarantee the relief I seek
deep down in my soul I battle for control
the fear of letting go of control
admitting defeat
laying down my arms to something outside myself
tears at me

with every word I speak

in every action I take

I fear ridicule
it feasts on me
eats away at me
tears at me
Every day I fight
with every word I speak

in every action I take

I hope to be released

from the ideas that fester

the paranoia that consumes

the fear that binds

one pill

all pills

"Hiss, Boo, Bah"

the bottle holds no absolution for me

deep within me lies the answer

---

Inspiration for this post came in part from Three Word Wednesday [3WW=>absolve(d), hiss, ridicule] and in part from my recent exploration of phobias.  

0 with just a smile...

She smiles at him, waits for him to meet her eye, watches his lips curl into a sexy little smile of his own, and then lowers her gaze in a shy eyelash fluttering way.  As she watches him through her lashes, she knows he's hooked.

4 just a lingering hint

just a tiny little taste
a hint of what might be
lingers on my lips
just a brief intoxicating whiff
a hint of what could be
lingers in my mind
just a small tender touch
a hint of what might be
lingers on my cheek
just the thought of your sweet simple kiss
brings a hint of a sparkle to my eyes and sheen to my lips
signs that belie the lingering feelings of lust

---

This weeks post was inspired by Three Word Wednesday [3WW=>hint, lust, sheen]. At first, I thought to try my hand once again at a Palindrome Poem, but one semi-successful attempt does not an expert make, especially when the post must include three specific word. So after getting about five lines including only one of the words (two if you count the turn around word, but seeing as how I had yet to find the link between the lines I don't really count it), I conceded defeat.  I'm not giving up on my desire to master this interesting poetic form, just waiting for the right flow of words to hit.

0 darling

love
please
fade not, do brightly burn
forever embrace me, hold tightly
~darling~
tightly hold me, embrace forever
burn brightly, do not fade
please
love

---

i took a shot at writing a palindrome...not really sure it works...not really sure i like it...

0 Phobias...

i decided it was time to look up the specific name of my unusual phobia...

telephonophobia -- this is not the fear of the telephone, but rather the fear of making and/or answering the phone...

while looking at the gigantic list of phobias, i came across a couple of others that i have...

Anthropophobia (fear of people or society:  mild, but growing stronger every day); Claustrophobia (fear of confined spaces:  mild, but heightened when other people are in the small space with me); Decidophobia (fear of making decisions:  mild only when other people are effected by my decision);  Doxophobia (fear of expressing opinions or receiving praise:  mild on expressing; strong on receiving); Glossophobia (fear of speaking in public or of trying to speak:  strong when i am not familiar with the people; strong with larger crowds regardless of familiarity; mild with small groups; mild to none existent with children and teens); Iatrophobia (fear of doctors:  strong, but mainly because i am a hypochondriac who would rather not discover if those ailments are real); Monopathophobia (fear of definite sickness; mild, as long as i don't think about dispelling my hypochondria); Social Phobia (fear of being evaluated negatively in social situations:  impairing and growing stronger everyday)

those were the ones on the list that really stood out to me.  there were definitely some interesting ones.  can you believe there is actually a fear of phobias (phobophobia)...

it wasn't necessarily a complete list...so i can only ponder what others i might have...

0 i wish i could just disappear...

i can feel it...i'm on a downward spiral...spinning faster and faster with every turn...i have no grasp...nothing to hold on to...my breath is being pulled out of me through this whirlwind...

---

my thoughts have traveled lately to the idea of disappearing...just up and leaving...going off somewhere where i can breathe, wrap my mind around things, and recreate myself...

i think about disappearing and not being found...

how do i leave no trace...how do i assure the things that need to be taken care of here are...how do i just vanish...

i think about disappearing and i wonder could i really do it...

how can i just let go of who i am...how can i walk away from those i love...how do i just leave them with questions...

i think about disappearing and the idea feels so good...

but how can i be sure that i'm not running from who i am, but rather discovering who i truly am...how do i make sure who i am doesn't follow me, doesn't latch on to me with its sharp claws and keep me from blossoming...

i think about disappearing and i know i'm not strong enough...not strong enough to change who i am...not strong enough to explore the possibility of who i could be...not strong enough to let go of the self that has become a type of security blanket...

i think about disappearing...

0 haiku

a storm is brewing
i can feel it in my bones
one to match our pain

0 Perpetual Fixation

to obsess is to breathe
natural and without thought
the mind festers on words spoke
or not spoken
the heart clenches at actions took
or not taken
like an asthma attack
hitting suddenly
wreaking havoc on the body
obsession takes hold
wringing me dry
leaving me exhausted
to obsess is to breathe
a natural and debilitating disease

6 ataxia curse

Watching Jake walk is like watching a drunken sailor.  The walls seem to magically move toward him, nudging him back into line as his devolving gait takes him off course.  And though I do my best to hide it, my heart sinks with the knowledge that as his disease ripens it will continue to eat away at his nervous system until walking is not an issue he will need to contend with. 

---

This post was inspired by Three Word Wednesday [3WW=>gait, nudge(-e+ing), ripen(s)].  These three words brought back a memory that left quite an impression...I suppose that's why I locked it up in my memory center.

0 Methods to Soothe Raging Emotions

gritted teeth
hold tears at bay
a flimsy dam of sticks
bombarded by raging emotions
longing to pour freely

rioting music
course throughout
a volatile tidal wave
melding with raging emotions
longing to find rhythm

breath moves
slowly in, slowly out
a soft gentle breeze
releases the raging emotions
longing to sufficate

0 Rushing Love

she whispers softly
her heart tightened in her chest
words she felt just flowed
finally the time had come
raging like a waterfall

0 voiceless...part I

"Is something wrong?" 

I could see the uncertainty in her eyes.  She was scared to say what was on her mind.  After a small sigh, she lifted her hands and moved her fingers swiftly like the faster she got it out the less it would hurt.  "My uncle doesn't like me."  It took a moment for me to internalized what she had said. 

My fingers instantly began to move without thought.  "What would make you say that?" 

The little girl reached up, grasped my sleeved and pulled me closer.  Unexpectedly she leaned in and put her lips next to my ear.  "Sometimes after he tucks me in and thinks I'm asleep, he stands in the doorway and cries."  The momentary excitement over the fact that she had finally spoken after over six months of self-imposed silence was dampened by her words.

My heart sank as she pulled away and I looked into her glassy blue eyes.  I shook my head and signed, "Sweetie, your uncle loves you very much.  He just misses your daddy and mommy a lot."

4 Slumbering Nature

a sweet demure child
pushed prodded and offended
finally erupts
a volitale volcano
no longer a dorment soul

---

after toying with several other forms of Japanese poetry (haiku, senryu, and sedoka), i thought i might expand my exploration...thus this attempt at a tanka. inspiration for this creation came from Three Word Wednesday. [3WW=>demure, offend(ed), volatile]

0 Whispering Calm

the music whispers in my ears
a soothing calm that settles me
my body stills and my mind clears
the music whispers in my ears
it plays a tune to match my fears
a wondrous sound that set me free
the music whispers in my ears
a soothing calm that settles me

---

Apparently I like the poetic forms that include repetition--first villanelle and then pantoum. This is my first exploration of a triolet.

4 The Search

Sweat poured from every pore in her body.  The heat of the sun and the miles of walking were wreaking havoc on her body.  She was exhausted.  Every muscle in her body ached, but she continued on following the tiny little creature in front of her.

"Not far now."  She stopped and took a sip from her water bottle.  It was warm, but still it provided relief.  "Just over the next hill."  With renewed focus, she twisted the cap back into place and almost ran up the hill.  Her heart sank as her eyes scanned the terrain.  She looked at the wolf she had been following with dismay.  "Over there."  As her gaze shifted in the direction, she barely noticed the wolf bob its head and disappear back in the direction they had come from.

She moved slowly toward the area that was crowed with hawks.  Her breath caught in her lungs as her brain made sense of sight that stood before her.  She sank down to her knees.  Her mind traveled back to the first time she had met him.  She had been intimidated by his robust form, put off by his easy charm.  She would have dismissed him right away, but the way his eyes feasted on her had sparked something inside her that she didn't know existed.  There had been no doubt in her mind that she would love him until her dying breath.

As her eyes glassed over at the memory, the voices cut into her train of thought.  "Quite tasty really."

"Yes, nicely marbleize meat.  Very tender.  An exquisite robust flavor, I must say."

She felt the bile rise in her throat.  A hand rose to her mouth, while the other tried fruitlessly to cover her ears.  When her brain finally kicked in, she grabbed the charm that hung around her neck, tore it off and throw it away.  The air was filed with the sound of squawking birds.  After a moment, the ability to breathe seemed to return.  She bit at her bottom lip as she breathed slowly through her nose--a mistake she realized as the smell penetrated her facilities.  One of the hawks raised its head and looked at her.  With a small hop and flap of its wings it rose and landed on top of the pendant the crazy woman had given her to help her locate her husband.  The hawk tilted its head as though it were studying her.  "You're welcome to join us, if you're hungry."  Again she found her hand covering her mouth.  She shook her head.  The hawk shifted its head and wings in a odd looking shrug before it returned to its circle of friends.  She turned her head away as it once again began to feast on the dead carcass.

---

As I explored yet another Three Word Wednesday, I thought I would break away from the use of poetry, suppress my negative feelings and insecurities of conquering prose, and maybe allow some of my untapped creativity to surface.  Along with being inspired with three interesting words [3WW=>charm, feast, robust], this post found additional fodder in a rerun of Reba were Barbara Jean uses the phrase, "feast on the dead carcass of our financial ruin."  (Side note:  I did not get around to creating anything for last weeks Three Word Wednesday [3WW=>break, negative, surface], so I thought I'd make up for it twice over--once here and by posting a short story today.)

0 Mask

She moved her fingers caressingly over the once smooth surface.  Her fingertips picked up on every tiny fracture, each rough crevice, and all of the minute cracks that now marred the once beautiful porcelain mask.  The exquisite fine Italian artwork graced her wall--her totem.  So many times she had gazed upon it, the symbolism poignant only to her.  She lifted the mask from the wall, weighed it in her hand and then let go.  A small smile graced her lips as she watched it break into a million little pieces.  She wasn't happy, far from it.  The smile was a sad rueful one.  The tiny little bits of porcelain represented how she felt inside.  Her own mask, the one she used to hide behind for years, had slowly but surely been eaten away by the the negative feelings and troublesome anxiety that plagued her.  There had been a time were she could control the torment she felt inside.  But the past few years had proved to much.  They had finally broken free, shattering her self-imposed mask into tiny little shards.  She knelt down beside her know destroyed totem and carefully brushed her fingers over the pieces.  As her thoughts wondered, she wondered if maybe it was time that she embrace the negative self that lay inside her.  Maybe that was the only way she could break free and allow her true self to surface.

---

This post was inspired by Three Word Wednesday [3WW=>break, negative, surface].  It's a week late, but for some reason I had trouble finding the right fit for all three words.  Better late than never, I think.