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.
Saturday, September 11, 2010
Wednesday, September 8, 2010
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.)
"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.
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.
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