My newest adventure is underway. It has lead me to take up residency in a new blog,
Like the Feathers of an Arrow (affectionately known as LFA).

...don't open...don't throw away... is not disappearing completely (not yet),
but postings here will be limited.

Wednesday, December 28, 2011

1 CRUSH

CRUSH
destroy
demolish

the resolution,
intent on transforming
small town life, squashed its spirit

"tear down the pure essence of hope."



the last Wednesday of the month meets the last Wednesday of the year...i wonder what the new year will bring...  this here clarity pyramid is for Three Word Wednesday [3WW=>demolish, resolution, transform(ing)].  

Thursday, December 22, 2011

5 Winter Wardrobe

The festive garb she wore was not a declaration of her belief system. Strangely the wardrobe fit her personality whether or not it spoke of her own faith.  Her jovial demeanor and her contagious smile, though not intended to spreading holiday cheer, were simply embedded in who she was regardless of the season or her surroundings.  And while she could bring a smile to any heart, her reality brought out tears and compassion in truck loads.  For just one glimpse at the rumpled holiday sweater, the tattered skirts, and her overall disheveled appearance and smiling hearts bleed knowing she wears the gaudy atrocious-looking sweater just to keep warm.



what a crazy day yesterday turned into...but i suppose 'tis the season...anyway, i finally managed to get around to Three Word Wednesday [3WW=belief, festive, rumple(d)].  it took me awhile trying to veer away from using believe instead of belief, but i managed it in the end.

Tuesday, December 20, 2011

5 Irrational Illusions -- A Response




Irrational Illusions – A Response

social engagement
to put forth such an effort
at such an expense
to the mind, heart, body, soul…
seems a fool’s errand
like a child playing with fire
comfort and warmth call
teasing with their open arms
just to sear straight through
why delve into this sector
of social terror
for just a glimpse of self-worth
of affirmation
reflected in other’s eyes
or within their words
truthfully it makes no sense
compounding real life
with more social arenas
honestly who needs
the world at their fingertips
one more avenue
to fall into a tailspin
where loss of control
tears at every ounce of hope
maybe it is time
to still the paranoia
in at least one world
before irrational thoughts
and harsh delusions
skirt the edge of sanity
maybe it is time
to not push the envelope
in an online world
where social angst finds a home
maybe it’s time to
unshrink this crazy life of
social endeavors



this will probably never going happen again...it's not even 3 o'clock on Tuesday and i'm ready for this week's OpenLinkNight over at dVerse~Poets Pub.  i suppose i figured that this being a busy time of year...this week in particular...i should get a jump start on things if i wished to not miss.   

anyway...the above poem is a response to last week's OpenLinkNight.  i had said in the ramblings part of my post that it didn't quite take on the end i had envisioned.  it really just set up the scene (or the problem).  so today i decided to revisit the thoughts that played in my head at the time.  somehow with Irrational Illusions i managed to keep 'i', 'you', 'me', etc out off the poem...not really an easy task for me lately.  when it came to writing this response i was torn with whether to stick with the lack of personalization or to reclaim it.  as you can tell i again left out 'i', 'you', 'me', etc., though they popped into my head on more than one occasion.  was it a good call?  i don't know.  might it have been a stronger piece with the personalization?  maybe.  will i leave it as is?  knowing me probably.  is this really goodbye?  that's an excellent question...

Wednesday, December 14, 2011

6 Plotting and Planning

The proximity of the voices rendered him immobile. They weren’t supposed to be there. He had planned things out so carefully, spent hours watching the house and days trailing their every move. He had even gone so far as to insinuate himself into their life to eliminate surprise just like this one. They spoke now in harsh whispers as though they thought the walls had ears—if only they really knew. The shuffling of their feet moving closer to his hiding spot caused the hairs on his arms and neck to stand on end. He did his best to quiet his breathing fearing the slightest intake of breath might give him away. He had been so focused on staying unnoticed he almost missed the tenor of the conversation. While he had come here to rob and pilfer, their words were a gem he could live off of for years. A smile pierced his lips as he pulled out his phone and began recording the discussion. Dollar signs flashed before his eyes as they spoke of retribution in the form of murder. When they finally left, he stepped out of his hiding spot and looked around contemplating leaving while the coast was clear. With a shrug he thought to himself, why not, and began to forage for valuables.



i decided once again to steer away from poetry for this week's Three Word Wednesday [3WW=>immobile, proximity, retribution].  i must admit, while i do it infrequently, i enjoy flexing my non-poetic muscles.

Tuesday, December 13, 2011

6 Irrational Illusions




Irrational Illusions

social endeavors
breed paranoid delusions
in whispers and taunts
unheard words that brush the neck
tickles which incite
involuntary cringing
where shoulders rise up
a manner of protection
from something not there
surroundings push in
like walls closing all around
stealing breath from lungs
while tears push to the surface
where clenched teeth push back
striving to maintain control
a steel composure
to protect from eyes not there
now the fight expands
to new social arenas
where fingertips touch the world
in fresh mediums:
chats, blogs, tweets, podcasts, emails…
an unending list
ripe for paranoid fancy
steeped in social angst
no longer felt in whispers
nor in “watching” eyes
but rather in the silence
a painful echo
driving irrational thoughts
emails of boycotts
meant to explain still voices
tweets unretweeted
reinforce perceived lacking
as the world shrinks in
the pressure expands tenfold
crushing from the inside out



i wasn't sure when i started this that it would end where i had intended it to start...i thought it would simply follow a parallel line of thought and i'd have to come back to the original thought in another piece. but it found its way back...strange really how things find there way. although technically i did not make way into the intended conclusion...just to the beginning...which i'm sure makes no sense to anyone but me since only i know the original intent.


anyway...this is my offerings for this weeks OpenLinkNight over at the dVerse~Poets Pub, an extraordinary place were an eclectic group of individuals come together to share and celebrate poetry.

Monday, December 12, 2011

0 i should be stronger than superman by now...

She sat at the desk staring off into space. It was happening again. Something in her life had gone awry and it ate at her. She knew she had to talk to the person who’d set this roadblock. She had to make peace with it, if not fix it.

Unfortunately, there were things in life, which she could not deal with emotionally well. She clenched her teeth and widened her eyes to keep the tears at bay. The feeling that swelled inside her chest pushed and pulled at her muscles.

It’s not fair, she thought, normal people don’t feel like this. They don’t get so worked up. They don’t dread the idea of confrontation. It’s just not fair that she has to deal with this turmoil, this anxiety that surfaces whenever things seem to go uncontrollably wrong, to no fault of her own.

Air forced its way out of her mouth trying to expel the tension in her chest and shoulders. She rubbed her brow with her right hand and bit her lip contemplating the implications of how the future would be if she let it lie. What she foresaw was unhappiness and it hurt.

The will to move forward, to continue with daily activities, vanished. This war going on inside her was debilitating. The collision of the unwelcome future and the desire to mend it battled for control of her emotions.

Expelling another fit of air, she pushed all thoughts from her mind. There was no place for this war right now, maybe not ever. It was time to move forward. She needed to except that in life there were things beyond one’s control, times when one must learn to deal with being unhappy. A small mocking smile pierced her lips as her mind absorbed the idea, what doesn’t kill you, only makes you stronger.

Wednesday, December 7, 2011

3 intoxicating ride

She was tired of sitting back and watching, tired of being told what to do and when to speak, and tired of not being allowed to stretch her muscles, both physically and mentally. It seemed harsh and cruel that she was forced to suppress her natural instincts--all because she was born into this passive role. She itched to be free. The idea of controlling her own destiny was intoxicating, but still she understood the demands her title held. So try as she might, she could not bring herself to openly defy the expectations laid at her feet. Truthfully, there was only one pleasure she ever indulged in. When she felt her world begin to suffocate her, she steal herself away to the stables. Under cover of a night, draped in a cloak, she slips in amongst the horses until she found her mare. The first brush of her hand across the beautiful coat always brought a smile to her lips. There was an unspoken bond between the two. With one swift movement she’d find herself astride the majestic creature and they’d ride out towards the open fields. Then once the ground opened up in front of them, they would break into a full run. At that moment, when her hood flew off and the wind caught her hair so it billowed behind her like a flag, she felt free.



i find myself with this week's Three Word Wednesday [3WW=>flag, might, passive] once again exploring prose--short and brief, but still pushing myself outside of the poetic thoughts i seem to get sucked into.

Tuesday, December 6, 2011

2 Escape Despair




Escape Despair

whisps escape her tightly spun updo
frantically whispering to you;
begging to unfurl like a loose stitch.
how can you resist as fingers itch
longing to unravel more than hair?

thoughts escape from deep within, as you
frantically push aside this new
feeling ravishing you from inside;
for there is no way you can abide
marring this friendship beyond repair.

still, should you deny a gift so precious and rare
just to save yourself from possible despair?



i had this idea in my head awhile back with the first stanza though not quite as it currently stands. it lingered with me...and so i've revisited it. i'm not sure if i like the way it turned out, but i'll let it stand for now.


anyway...this is my weekly offering for OpenLinkNight over at the dVerse~Poets Pub. if you haven't already been there to check out the talent individuals who walk through the pubs doors you may want to take a minute and see what they bring to the mic.

note:  please forgive my recording.  i tried it several times, but it didn't really feel right...

Monday, December 5, 2011

0 dreams and wishes

last night as i lay in bed i found myself once again pondering the idea of happiness.  [i just typed 'happy' into the search area for my posts and found 28 results.]  anyway, i wrote a post awhile back where i tried to wrapped my mind around "happiness is a mood not a destination."  i'm not sure if i had heard that or saw it or if it too had been part of some late night ponderings that inevitably found its way here.  regardless it skirted my thoughts last night...

there is something about this season that feels like a time of dreams and wishes...a time were anything is possible.  [truth be told, i think i just watch too many Lifetime and Hallmark movies.]  so last night my brain got to thinking about being happy.  [i'll abbreviate the discussion i had in my head...mainly 'cause it can be quite hard to follow may train of thought as i jump from idea to idea, which i'm sure those of who actually read my ramblings probably already know.]  in short happiness is a state of being that fluxuates from happy to sad...i mean can you really have one without the other.  it was about at that moment, with the fluxuation concept, that i realized what my real problem is.  it's not being happy so much as being balanced...i don't fluxuate. 

so what do i wish for...dream of...
more importantly how do i obtain it...how long do i wait for it to find me...when will stop dreaming and wishing and start being...

as far as i'm concerned, that way too many questions. 

Wednesday, November 30, 2011

8 CRAZE

CRAZE
frenzy
free-for-all

jettisoned cargo
flushes them out in droves
to behave like wild creatures

"mob mentality at it's best."



it's been awhile since i last wrote a clarity pyramid...but seeing as how this is the last Wednesday of the month and i have finally found my way back to 3WW, how could i not write one?  took me a bit to bring it all together, but i do seem to find that is often the case with this form.

this past weekend, there was a marathon of Firefly on tv.  while i have never really watched the single season 'space cowboy' series, my brother roped me into a couple of episodes.  somehow this weeks Three Word Wednesday [3WW=>behave, jettison(ed), mob] was inspired by one of the episodes.

i concede...once again I hoped to try for two in one day...but it seems it wasn't in me. so here is my meager offerings for this week's OpenLinkNight. tonight I go voiceless leaving this little scribbling scrawled on a coaster over at the dVerse~Poets Pub.

Monday, November 28, 2011

0 writing prose...

i've been trying to find my way back into writing prose. my last attempt was almost a month ago. prior to that, i hadn't written anything prose-like since May. i really just don't seem to have the stamina for writing prose. worst part is, i end up leaving stories open: The Test, Serendipitous, in the stacks, and With Just a Touch. most i have barely made a dent in...simply ideas that i have started to put down. the problem is the longer the piece turns out to be the less likely i will be to complete it. i know this, but maybe that is part of the problem. that and the fact that once it's over, it's over. of all the stories i've started, With Just a Touch definitely holds a special place. i know exactly how it is going to end and i am so close to that ending. i just for some reason can't bring myself back to it.

part of me feels too much time has passed and my voice may no longer be the same (unlikely but it doesn't stop me from thinking it). part of me is hung up on just thinking about how the story will end...the longer i take to write it down, the longer it has to breathe life into me...allowing me to replay the final scenes over and over...and yes, i could do that after writing it, but it is not the same...once written i'm committed to it. i don't know.

i'm not incapable of writing longer pieces. i've proved that in the past. i just don't really have the motivation or temperance for doing so. (or maybe that is just an excuse i like to use for being lazy.) who knows...

so the big question is where does that leave me now?

Wednesday, November 23, 2011

6 Last Breath




Last Breath

you cracked open my chest,
sunk your fingers deep within
encasing my still beating heart.
can you feel the rhythm
in sync with your own?
it beats for you,
because of you.

don’t let yourself waver now
tugging at my heartstrings;
do what it is you came to do.

this is no time to hesitate,
not if you ever felt a tinge
within yourself
of the vibrant life
now beating in your hand.

make it quick
so it doesn’t sting too much.
like ripping off a band aid,
like plunging into ice cold water,
put me out of my misery.

my heart has been yours
since the moment we met;
so go ahead,
tear it out of me
hold it up in the palm of your hand
watch it take its last breath.

free me from feeling it break
into a million tiny little pieces.
go ahead do what it is
you came to do.



i must concede. i could not find my way to fill the blank pages staring back at me...so i dug up something (not previously posted here) for this week's OpenLinkNight over at dVerse~Poets Pub. i should have known better than to think (considering my current writing stamina) that i could write two new poems in one day.

6 Fight From Within

strong impervious armor surrounded his beating heart
long ago encase to keep misery from seeping in
shallow hollows in the metal riddle the once smooth surface
their true origins uncertain upon causal inspection
yet a closer look reveals these not to be defensive marks
rather an imprint of love longing to escape



i think one of the things i like most about Three Word Wednesday [3WW=>hollow(s), misery, shallow] is that when exploring how these words might come together, i have to look outside of myself.  while writing has always been a way for me to expel the emotions that riddle me, it also upon occasions provides me with an escape.  lately i find my writings to be quite internal and so i thorough enjoy the reprieve 3WW provides.

Tuesday, November 22, 2011

6 teardrop (part 2)

Carnation Tear
(image by rmp, that's me)
[poster artwork "Teardrop" by Paul Hogg]

back in March, i posted one of my short ramblings around a poster i have had for about 20 years.  this poster has always facinated me.  before writing the post, i tried to do a little research to see if (a) i could find this poster somewhere still for sale or (b) find more by Paul Hogg.  my attempts were fruitless. 

since my original post, i have found the number of people searching Paul Hogg and this poster to be quite interesting.  the post has quickly made its way into my top five posts.  one of the more recent comments on the post mentioned that this poster may have been part of a set.  this of course renewed my interest in once again taking up the search.  and while it only took me a couple of hours after reading the comment to find the answer, it has taken me slightly longer to share that answer here.

while i cannot say how many posters were in this collection, i did manage to find another on ebay (in a long expired auction).  is she the exact same woman?  i cannot say.  but she is unmistakably belongs along side 'Teardrop'.

"Careless Whispers" by Paul Hogg

Up Close
"Careless Whispers" by Paul Hogg


Wednesday, November 16, 2011

6 Hidden Truth




Hidden Truth

His actions vindicated with two words
bring little solace to his worn down soul;
For deep within he knows the scary truth
they'll come from out of the woodwork in herds.

Where solace should embrace his worn down soul,
this verdict lays an old case at his feet;
a young boy's death now takes a greater toll.

As impetus for kidnapping our youth,
this two word verdict is a defeat
which drives home within him the scary truth;

they'll come from out of the woodwork in herds.
A young boy's life now worth a greater toll,
with impetus for kidnapping our youth;
His actions vindicated with two words.



it has been quite some time since i found myself participating in a Three Word Wednesday [3WW=>impetus, solace, vindication(-ion+ed)]. i'm sure i could probably deduce why it has taken me so long (since returning from my self-imposed exile) to return, but i'll save us all such a crazy rambling. as for why this week i cannot say, especially when you consider the words. i'm not really sure i did justice to the 'impetus'...or any of the 3WW words.


upon first reading them, they made me think of an episode recently on "Harry's Law" that i saw. i don't know if the poem makes sense outside of having seen the episode, but...


i am double dipping today by offering this up for OpenLinkNight over at dVerse~Poets Pub.

Wednesday, November 9, 2011

5 Bleeding Black




Bleeding Black

Words course through me
running the gambit through every vital organ;
intent on pulling the toxins from my body,
I bleed black.

Words collide within me
collecting the tainted emotions threatening me;
intent on healing my tattered mind,
I bleed black.

Words seep out of me
expelling the poison imbued in my very being;
intent on releasing my soul to breathe,
I bleed black.

This letting of words is my treatment…my salvation;
but with every bloodletting I am left to wonder.

What will become of me
when I squeeze
the last bit of ink
out of my veins?

(Will peace finally breathe life back into me
or will peace find me with the release of my last breath?)

I bleed black.




i've been sitting on "What will become of me / when I squeeze / the last bit of ink / out of my veins" for awhile now. Natasha Head's words for this weeks OpenLinkNight over at the dVerse~Poets Pub made me think back to this tweet that has sat waiting to find its voice. it was in the second stanza that i truly saw its light in the tag line of this blog, "this letting of words is my treatment...my salvation. it pulls all the toxins from my mind, body, and soul."

Saturday, November 5, 2011

0 personal stenographer

if only there were a little chip in my head that could take my internal ramblings (especially those that seem to plague me while driving) and write them down.  so many thoughts run though my head about things i'd like to write and say, but they rarely seem to linger with me long enough to write or by the time i the chance does come along my motivation to do anything other than mindless things (listen to music, watch tv, star off into space).  there is also that fact that by the time i do get the chance to sit down and write my parnoid/self-depricating self has had time to whisper discouraging thoughts of how what i wish to say is pointless and no one really would care to read my insane ramblings. 

i suppose it really doesn't matter.  the chip in the head probably would end up being more trouble than it is worth. 

Friday, November 4, 2011

5 Adrift in Regret

The world melts away
whenever my eyes meet yours;
I am swept along
lost in a sea of regret.
floating endlessly.
Once words whispered drew desire,
like wind in my sails,
guiding me into your arms.
Every touch took me
along turbulent waters
where passion found course
wreaking havoc on my heart;
emotions ran wild,
steering me to another--
fear anchoring me.
on that day the winds silenced
and I found myself adrift.



i can't quite decide if this choka was ready to end here. FormForAll this week over at dVerse~Poets Pub had an article on Man’yoshu Japanese Poetry. having explored one of the two forms presented already (the tanka), i thought i might give the choka (or long poem) a go. i'm not sure i like the idea that it has no specific line restriction. it reminds me a bit of a ballad, though without the rhyming...they feel like they are meant to tell a story...but maybe that's just me.


anyway...i think for now i'll let it stand as is.

Wednesday, November 2, 2011

6 Beneath the Veil




Beneath the Veil

your piercing gaze
disturbs my equilibrium
I teeter between who I wish you to see
and who I am beneath the surface

Normally what lies beneath is easy to conceal
so weighed down by fears
ladened with numbing anxiety
she rarely sees the light of day
yet you
with your piercing gaze
dive straight into my core
pushing down appearances
ripping aside the veil of smoke and mirrors
exposing her to the light

your piercing gaze
draws me to the surface
untethering me from my fears and anxieties
allowing me to see me through your eyes



my small offerings at the dVerse~Poets Pub for this week's OpenLinkNight

side note:  i'm not sure what it is about today's recording, but i listen to myself and can't help but laugh at me...

Monday, October 31, 2011

0 coincidences

I'm not sure how it works exactly.  I've tried puzzling it through a time or two, but have yet to draw any definitive answers.  At first I thought nothing of it.  Why would I?  It wasn't until I came across the article in the paper that the first tickle of oddity crept up.  There were so many details that matched.  Still one main piece was incorrect.  The photo in the paper looked nothing as I had dreamed.  After a couple more coincidental news episodes, I finally started to realize that there was way more to my dreams than I could have imagined.  So, I have decided to starting documenting my dreams and where necessary the real life happenings that coincide with it.  Maybe it's all in my head.  Maybe these coincidences are just that, coincidences.  Maybe I need to watch less television and stop reading the newspaper.  Maybe...I'm simply crazy.  What ever the case may be, I intend to figure out what exactly is going on.

Melissa closed the journal and sighed.  Her eyes looked from the beautifully bound red leather journal to the newspaper lying beside her right arm.  Nothing about the person in the picture looked familiar except for the smile.  Three nights ago she remembered looking into a mirror and delicately painting those exact lips luscious pink.  It was not unusual for her to dream as though she were someone else.  She could hardly remember a time where she was herself in a dream.  Her fingers traced over the lips jogging the feeling of excitement and anticipation she had felt in the dream.  She shook her head firmly and pushed herself back and up out of the chair.  "I'm not going there," she said to herself.  "Not again."

Wednesday, October 26, 2011

8 From the Ashes





From the Ashes

surrounding walls protect like a double-edged sword
protection melds into suffocation,tarnishing every breath
desire swells sparking thoughts of freedom's flight
longing kindles within like a smoldering fire
but to put a match to this nest
to light this hearth on fire, burning down this cage
who's to say what will rise from the ashes
the mystical wings of the phoenix
the untapped beauty of Cinder-Soot
age old tales written of(f) by many
slanted, twisted and warped to suit one's fancy
who's to say what lies beneath
is true, unblemished, worthy of seeing the light
surrounding walls protect like a double-edged sword



i feel like there is an underlying theme in my poetry as of late...i suppose it probably speaks to my current state of mind...or lack there of.


i can't seem to break away from myself.  it would probably help if i forced myself to write more, but i am appear to be in a bit of a funk; so i really should be happy with the one poem (two if i'm lucky) a week thing i have going on.  after all it is better than nothing.


i'm thinking maybe i need to stop recording my voice for these OpenLinkNights.  one because i really dislike the sound of my voice...it is so not me.  i realize that most people to sound different when they hear their recorded voice, but i've actually had other people comment on how it doesn't sound like me.  two because i seem to have issues doing the recording at home and too often that is where (because i am a last-minute type of gal) i find myself putting on the finishing touches.


anyway...this is my weekly offering for the dVerse~Poets Pub.  if you haven't already been there to check out the talent individuals who walk through the pubs doors you may want to take a minute and see what they bring to the mic.

Tuesday, October 18, 2011

9 Fun House Mirrors




Fun House Mirrors

no one sees me
tin-foiled windows reflect
expected visions
while I cower deep within
terrified I might catch a glimpse
of my true self
distorted
by my makeshift mirrors



originally this was intended as a tanka tweet...the first two lines (ending with protect instead of reflect) popped into my head the other night, but i could not seem to pull my thoughts together. upon revisiting my words and their intentions, it grew well beyond what i had anticipated...far beyond 140 characters and the five-lined 31-syllable tanka.


so tonight...amazingly enough on Tuesday...i present my humble offerings for OpenLinkNight over at dVerse~Poets Pub.

Wednesday, October 12, 2011

8 These Walls

my original goal was to get this up yesterday, but i had issues at home with the audio program i use...but quite honestly i'll be happy if i don't end up as the closing act at OpenLinkNight for the third week in a row.  (i wonder what it must feel like to be first...or in the top ten for that matter.) 


anyway...yesterday, in my attempt to make it through the dVerse~Poets Pub doors on Tuesday instead of Wednesday, i found myself revisiting six lines that had been sitting patiently waiting to burst (into song).  i'm not really sure if the lines that ended up coming to life fit the sound of the first six nor if it (in its entirety) fully says what--in the back of my mind--i wished.  still i have decided to throw it out there...let it sink in a bit...and if need be alter later should the need arise. 


on a side note:  while i am slowly becoming more accepting of my recorded spoken voice, i'm still not particularly fond (and that's putting it lightly) of my recorded singing voice...so do beware...






These Walls

I been lost for long long time
caught between myself and the daily grind
I been waiting on something to take me away
instead of looking in mirror at my own face
now the time has come for me to take control
and finally feel a love I've never known

I'm gonna break these walls I built around me
sing my praise 'til I believe in me
I'm gonna dance beneath the moonlight naked
tear at this disguise so I can see the real me

I can feel her deep inside of me
this woman fighting to break free
I can hear her pleas and rattling chains
all I need do is call her name
the time has come for me to let go
release myself from all I have known

I'm gonna break these walls I built around me
sing my praise 'til I believe in me
I'm gonna dance beneath the moonlight naked
tear at this disguise so I can see the real me

Wednesday, October 5, 2011

5 ... don't open ... don't throw away ...




... don't open ... don't throw away ...

Don’t open this and get sucked in.
I’ve built a crazy world here in,
where I can let my fears fly free,
walk beside the pain binding me,
and rain my tear-filled thoughts down into an abyss.
Here is no place to go. I beg don’t open this.

I loose myself so easily
in words which pour like rain from me
Here I can once again feel whole
and breathe life back into my soul
instead of bottling it up upon a shelf.
I find a slice of peace here where I loose myself.

Please understand, while I wish you
could see inside and stroll on through,
this world, here, is my safety net--
a safe emotional outlet
one I believe is far too fragile to withstand
your judging eyes finding fault. Oh, please understand

don’t throw away all that I am
by tossing me aside like spam.
I fear that most of all you'll see,
there is so much lacking in me.
So if you should choose to enter my world anyway,
let my words seep into you; don’t throw (them) away.




inspiration has been unkind as of late...which may be one of the reason i tend to find myself walking through the dVerse~Poets Pub doors just before last call. tonight, for OpenLinkNight, i decided that if i were going to find inspiration i'd have to resort to exploring a form (new or old didn't really matter). so, i decided to give the wrapped refrain another go. twice before i have tried this form and interestingly enough each time used "don't" to start off the first stanza. of course, looking back at those two poems both beginning as such probably inspired me to use the title of my blog as the concept behind the poem. note: i do admit, that i did take some liberties in the last line by adding the word "them" to the end as appose to strictly following form, but i found it kind of tough to end with "don't throw away."

Friday, September 30, 2011

1 Weapons of Choice

a writer of prose
gathers his words around him like an arsenal
strategically placing all about
surrounded you with intense imagery
striking the senses from the outside in
intent on bringing you into the scene of events
like an opponent who works to anticipate offenses
making meaning in order to walk away from the battle
better for being a part of it

a writer of poetry
chooses his words like the feathers an arrow
strategically creating the perfect balance
allowing it to pierce the air with ease
striking you straight through the heart
the mind
the soul
the poisoned tip assaulting you from the inside out
like an enemy coursing through your blood stream
penetrating your defenses before you know what hit you


no matter the weapon the writer chooses
should his aim be true
he'll bring you to your knees
breathless
with the beauty he ignites
or
the darkness he inflicts



dVerse~Poets Pub presents Meeting the Bar: Critique and Craft this evening. in doing so, they have asked us to write about poetry. i wasn't sure i was going to join in the fun, but while driving home (as is often where my brain kicks into gear) my brain began to travel back to this pondering of poetry. i'm not particularly fond of writing poetry while driving...trying to remember the way the words fit so perfectly in your head when finally being able to sit with pencil and paper or fingers and keyboard is not the easiest of things to do. i lost the word ignite (used in the third to last line) for quite some time while driving along. eventually it popped back into my head at which point i had to repeat it over and over again in my head with 'inflict' so i'd remember them when i finally made it home. anyway, time is running out so i best be on my way to the pub before they make last call.

Wednesday, September 28, 2011

3 Navigating Life




Navigating Life

It's amazing how easy it is
to get lost on autopilot;
walking through life half-asleep;
eyes open before the alarm rings,
yet not really open.

Time passes in the blink of an eye
and we don't even blink.

How did things get like this?
an internal GPS controlling every turn;
recalculating the best route
with every obstacle life throws across the path.

Time flies by without a care in the world
and we don't even seem to care.

It's amazing how easy it is
to get caught in the daily flow;
mindlessly making decisions;
forgetting who we are
and the destination we had planned.



my humble offerings to dVerse~Poets Pub's OpenLinkNight...where poets come to share, listen, inspire, and drink in the spirit of poetry....

Wednesday, September 21, 2011

4 Worth




Worth

how long will I wait for someone
to show me my worth
before I except the truth

what is the truth?
I know the right answer.

Who says?
Who says you're not perfect?
Who says you're not worth it?


I says
that's who!

I know my worth,
yet still I wait for someone.

I can stare in the mirror
for hours on end
and still I wait for someone
to tell me I am beautiful.

Who says you're not pretty?
Who says you're not beautiful?
Who says?


No one says
not a word either way.

I know it is what I see
what I believe
that is the truth,
but when silence haunts
the words I long to hear
seeing
believing
is not so easy.

when the time finally comes
to except the truth
what evidence will I have
to see I'm worth it
to believe I'm beautiful.



First, this has been such a crazy week that i almost contemplated skipping this weeks stop at the dVerse~Poets Pub for OpenLinkNight. Second, i was quite lost on what to write about. So in a last ditch attempt not to miss this week, i checked out my most recent pom seed post (Batch #7) and found the first three lines of this poem tucked in one of my recent ramblings. Strangely in the back of my head was the Selena Gomez song Who Says...it seemed quite fitting.


Side note: I really need to work on this last minute business. I seem to be making it in just before closing the last several times.


Side-Side note: For those brave enough to listen to the recording, please pardon my singing.

Sunday, September 18, 2011

4 The Sound of the Train

Boarding Warning: If you like trains or are in the mood for a nice trip down the rails, i'd suggest stepping back on the platform and waiting for the next train.


when dVerse~Poets Pub presented the topic of trains for Poetics, my brain could not seem to steer clear of this memory...the prompt was probably meant showcase the beauty of trains, so please forgive me for boarding this train of thought...



The Sound of the Train

the night I got the call
a train of tears made a beeline for my cheeks
I recall uncertainty
as facts were still pulling in
a gleam of hope jumped the rails
as I leapt off at doubt station

he was a freight train
navigating the corridors
his destination not where he wished to be
he wore those headphones like a conductors hat
when they were on it was full steam ahead
mind the crossing arms and the flashing lights
still there was something quite valuable in the load he carried
if the right switch was thrown

Occasionally when the long day was done
he'd find his pull into my classroom
Through the years I have found
it is not just the goody two-shoe who steal your heart
but the troublesome ones that most brush off
the ones who put up blinders and plow on thru
those are the connections I love to make
where the tracks ahead of looked long, yet bumpy

With the light of day came the cold hard truth
and once again the tears began to run
on the tracks that ran through the center of town
those he walked his whole young life
the music he used to escape this world
as loud as always
had drowned out the sound of the train

Wednesday, September 14, 2011

4 Intoxicating Spell




Intoxicating Spell

pour me a drink
let me drown
my turbulent mind
with a refreshing blend
make it a double
cold and sweet
so I might dive in
soak up it's essence
float along an unhindered
stream of consciousness
where peace whispers
against my sails
and relaxation swims
along my hull



this is my contribution for tonight's OpenLinkNight over at dVerse~Poets Pub.  while i still find myself in the triple digits, i am not cutting it as close as i did last week to closing time.  If you haven't already, check out some of the amazing talents that stepped up to the mic this week.

Sunday, September 11, 2011

3 Batch #7

Bursting with Pom Seeds
(image by rmp, that's me)
i wonder if these batches are getting too long.  i should have predicted that would be the case as i began to add things (first Tweetoetry and then Ramblings).  maybe it wouldn't be so bad if i didn't keep all of the previous ramblings, but in a way they have the same potential as my leftover pom seeds...so keeping them seems right...but still...

after the last post, i created a new page to explain pom seeds.  i could use that page to maintain unused pom seeds (leftovers as i like to call them) and old ramblings.  i'll ponder that for the next batch; today i'll leave things as is.

so here goes...



Pom Seeds Batch #7
  • I'm not a shot of coffee; there when you need a pick me up; I'm not a 24 hour convenience store; open to satisfy your midnight cravings
  • I thought you could love me for who I am; and so I hid her from your sight (grew into an interesting little number and my second 'spoken word' poem, Flawed Love)
  • is there something wrong with my genes?; they're made of the best material; composed of strong fiber; and yet upon inspection; they lack style
  • I'm tired of this war raging inside; instinctively I fight; everyday; just once; I wish I could throw in the towel; losing should be so easy
  • I stand; arms outstretched; face turned toward the weeping sky; her rage whips; tearing through my body; I cry with her; rage with her


Ramblings (bold = new)
  • it's amazing how you can loose sight of something's true purpose when trying to conform.  (this popped into my head as i read over a poem that seemed to loose itself a bit as i tried to fit it to a form)
  • how long will I wait for someone to show me my worth before I except the truth
  • ~ content and happy are two different things ~ I'd be happy with just being content ~
  • lock the door to your heart ~ I have a tendency to escape
  • i could really use a hug right now!
  • when words fail, a simple touch can steal the pain.  (oddly enough the essense of this ramblings found its way into a recent attempt at writing a Ghazal, With Words)
  • I'm an outsider in my own life.  How is that possible?
  • ~ random thoughts float about in my head ~ longing to spill out ~ but who would wish to listen ~ to such randomness ~
  • silence can be just as profound as the perfectly spoken words (oddly enough the essense of this ramblings found its way into a recent attempt at writing a Ghazal, With Words)
  • I just had a converstaion with myself ~ the men with straightjackets must be salivating at the mouth
  • do I write the poem ~ or does the poem write me?
  • i need a happy though ~ my lips long to feel the contours of a smile
  • the taste of silence was never so sweet ~how many different ways can the above line be twisted?~ (i found two ways...which lead to three poems; Kiss Me Senseless, Sweet Kiss, and The Sweet Taste of Silence)
  • why do I open myself up to a world that does not know me, yet knows me better than those who do
  • my feet despise being confined ~ when the sun shines high in the sky
  • can you see the lie behind my smile?  can you hear the pain hiding in my laugh?  (i'm not sure if this was meant to be a ramblings or a pom seed for i did not mark it appropriately and while i think i might have intended it to be a pom seed i have decided to place it amongst my ramblings)
  • when they come to take me away ~ will the padded cell be firm enough ~ to protect my mind from bombarding thoughts
  • when they come to take me away ~ will the straightjacket be strong enough ~ to protect me from my mind
  • I taste a little bit of sunshine on your lips ~ a whole lot of tomorrows in your kiss
  • fickle tears ~ they pour when sad ~ they pour when happy ~ they thunder when hurt ~ you'd think they'd pick an emotion and stick with it
  • is it wrong that thinking about being happy makes me sad?
  • I wish I had the words ~ to heal this wound ~ but they seem to elude ~ still I try ~ pouring out word after word ~ hoping I'll find the perfect mix (i feel like this could potentially stand on its own as a poem or act as a pom seed...)
  • pathetic really ~ the way anxiety grips my heart ~ as I step outside myself ~ reaching out ~ to those on the inside of the circle ~ I skirt (could technically be classified as a tweetoetry, but...)
  • ~ why do I live like this? one pill...many pills...I need to find an answer (thoughts of a poem lingered in my head upon writing this, With Every Word... In Every Action...)
  • I don't have any thoughts lingering in my head ~ Is that what peace feels like? 
  • ~ her giggles are like candy ~ 
  • anxiety's peace ~ tastes like profanity ~ on virgin lips (thoughts of calling this a poem in its own right still linger)
  • forgive my lack of social graces... (part of a recent ramblings post, social-less soul)

Leftovers
  • Information overload
  • I woke with rose colored glasses and the world was as only I could dream it to be
  • my mom use to day; we're never lost; we're just misplaced
  • i hate days like today; where i'm blindsided; punched in the chest; days when all i want to do is curl up into a little ball and disappear
  • "you're growing."; am I? I don't think I'm growing; maybe just walking outside myself
  • love is pain and sorrow; wrapped in disguise; it laughs at me; with its sweet intoxicating lies
  • I see myself in black & white; brilliant colors surround me; poke at me; eager to caress me with their warmth; but they bounce off of me
  • I will live forever like this; in shadows of who I long to be  
  • I walk in a world not my own; but of my own making
  • what will become of me; when I squeeze; the last bit of ink; out of my veins
  • my heart quakes; earth-shattering tremors; only I can feel; course through me; I search for safety; the open embrace; of...


Tweetoetry

#56 (haiku - ish)
~Senseless

your whiskers tickle
brushing kisses on my skin
tickle me senseless


#57
~Seductive Sleep

sleep kissed my eyelids
with the gentle touch of a lover
seducing me into its warm embrace


#58
~Shock Me

I grow tired of these platitudes
give me the harsh raw truth
tell me a whopper of a lie
be profound for once
shock me with your words


#59
~Death Sentence

when the death sentence came today
I wailed like a new born baby
for isn't birth
in its own right
a death sentence


#60 (senryu - ish)
~Should You Wish to Be Heard

speaking in whispers
captures their ears far better
than raised voices will


#61
~Kiss Me Senseless~

if i threaten to ramble on endlessly,
will you promise to silence me again
with your lips on mine?


#62
~threatening tears~

like an endless stream of tweets
self-deprecating thoughts
feelings of loneliness
depression filled tears
run rampant thru my head
threatening to retweet themselves
in my tears


#63, 64, 65
~Flaming Anxiety~

anxiety burns
scorching from inside
leaving a charcoal imprint
where my heart once stood

anxiety flares
searing me on the inside
painting my lungs black with smoke
'til my breath is raw

anxiety stirs
smoldering dark thoughts
sparking red hot explosions
'round my seething brain


#66 (inspired by a shed straw skin)
~All of Me

drink me in
drink all of me
sweet and bubbly
tart and tangy
savor me on your tongue
cleanse your pallet with me
then taste me again


#67 (haiku - ish)
~Take Me Away~

come take me away
i rather drown in your love
than suffocate alone


#68
~Beauty Within

I'm well versed in the beauty I possess
its form and measure long to break free
--without rhyme or reason--
of each well placed stress mark


#69 (tanka)
~Spinning Skies

diamond skies sparkle
reminding me of your eyes
when you look at me
I feel the planets align
while I spin out of control


#70 (haiku - ish)
~Tired Memories

is there a lesson
in the painful memories
that plague my tired mind?


#71
~This Is Only a Test

this is a test of the poetry tweeting system
if this was real poetry
it would be a weave
of tightly spun RT-inspiring words


#72 (tanka)
~Crashing Into You

when you smile at me
my heart knows no speed limit
still I fear crashing
as my world turns upside down
it's your hand I wish to hold


#73
~Searching for Inspiration

when will I
find inspiration
outside of
my tears and fears?


#74 (tanka)
~Caution to the Wind

I let myself go
ignoring all caution signs
where you are concerned
falling uncontrollably
my heart knows no speed limit


#75 (haiku / senryu- ish)
~Their Whispers:  Attack

words whispered near me
attack like a buzzing bee
I'm allergic to


#76 (senryu - ish)
~Their Whispers:  Paranoia

paranoia grips
a paralyzing vice
set in whispers


#77 (tanka - ish)
~Behind Bars

golden locks entice
off the straight and narrow path
'til I'm behind bars
singing like a canary
will never make you mine


#78
~Hopeful Love

my heart stutters
when you speak of love
continually hopeful
your gaze will find mine


#79
~Suffocating Anxiety

fierce turbulent waters tug
adrift in an ocean of thoughts
suffocating waves of emotion
I can't escape


#80
~Pinochle Love

he trumped my heart with a spade
gathered me into his hands
tossing me on a pile of tricks

mine
was not
the only heart
he took


#81
~Moon Light

the moon has finally returned
like a lost sailor finding his way home
he brightens up my stormy night


#82
~Sleepless Thoughts

my mind races
eyes unable to focus
on thoughts speeding past
eyelids searching for a rest stop


#83 (tanka)
~Flush Lips

sweet and succulent
you linger on my taste buds
a delicate treat
my flush lips savor the thought
of feeling your brazen kiss

Friday, September 9, 2011

5 Methods to Soothe Raging Emotions: Prescriptive Drug

Music is my drug of choice.
It courses through each vein
giving my raging emotions a voice.
Intent on soothing the tidal wave of pain,

it courses through each vein
melting into my bloodstream.
Intent on soothing the tidal wave of pain
notes vibrate through me like a scream.

Melting into my bloodstream,
I hear the rhythm crystal clear.
Notes vibrate through me like a scream
in tune with my writhing fear.

I hear the rhythm crystal clear
as my reverberating thoughts ring.
In tune with my writhing fear
my frayed nerves begin to sing.

As my reverberating thoughts ring,
muscles no longer feel so tight.
My frayed nerves begin to sing
a song as pure as evening light.

Muscles no longer feel so tight.
While my heart's rhythm syncs
to a song as pure as evening light,
I loose myself to this musical sphinx.

While my heart's rhythm syncs,
vibrations seep through every pore.
I loose myself to this musical sphinx
like magic she unravels me to the core.

Vibrations seep through every pore
giving my raging emotions a voice.
Like magic, she unravels me to the core;
Music, my drug of choice.



when i saw the pantoum was the FormForAll over at dVerse~Poets Pub i admit i was a little excited. it has been a while since i last wrote a poem in this form. my first attempt was part of my 100th post over a year ago. i toyed with it a couple of times after that and found it to be quite an enjoyable form...though not necessarily the easiest.  


it did take me awhile to come up with a topic.  it wasn't until earlier this evening that the first line popped into my head.  after some thought, i began to think of a poem (Methods to Soothe Raging Emotions) i wrote that blossomed into several other poems.  Mysteriously it also is my number one most viewed poem.

Wednesday, September 7, 2011

8 Graffiti'd: Tagged Walls




Graffiti'd: Tagged Walls

they left their tag
a spray of brilliant colors
splashed across my body
a reminder of sorts
that they looked upon my cool exterior
and saw potential--possibilities
no matter that no one else seemed to see it
no matter that I refused to explore it
they saw the light within the darkness
covering me from head to toe
leaving their mark everywhere
save their true target
the one untouched surface
longing to be exposed
but too well protected by these walls
surrounding my heart



i'm coming in under the wire here. but my mind has not been so cooperative. dVerse~Poets Pub is about to make its last call for OpenLinkNight.  but it seems i like to wait 'til the pub's amazing collection of poetry patrons have left for the night or are too tired to keep their eyes open to watch me unearth another creation.

Wednesday, August 31, 2011

8 Connections




Connections

I wonder how your brain works
how you connect things
like organized chaos
you bring words together
a symphony
of the oddest thoughts and ideas

I wonder what the world sounds like to you
how you see connections
with instinctive knowledge
you bring music to life
a painting
of the most unique tones and texture

I wonder how your eyes take in their surroundings
how you hear connections
through inconsistent cohesion
you bring images together
a poem
of the most intriguing subjects and structure



this little ditty came from out of nowhere...though not really.  i am often amazed and awed by the extraordinary talent that walks through the doors at dVerse~Poets Pub...maybe more so with the fact that the giant shepherd's hook hasn't dragged me from the stage yet.  thinking of those individuals brought the first verse quite naturally from my pencil.


upon recording, i felt like it didn't quite end...like it needed something more.  (it really is amazing how things can sound one way in your head and another when you speak them.)  so i thought to add:
I wonder how I might be able to
see
hear
connect
as seamlessly as you
but after pondering this verse and whether the middle three lines needed more, i decided to give the original poem another read (aloud).  what i discovered was that a change in my tone could easily give it a complete feel.  of course now i have this extra verse and am not sure if i should include it or leave it out.  so for now i think i'll let it stand as is.


this is my contribution for tonight's OpenLinkNight over at dVerse~Poets Pub.

Monday, August 29, 2011

3 Winds of Emotion

i obviously missed the deadline (power just returned a few minutes ago after being off for approximately 18 hours...not to bad considering what some have to deal with...) anyway, here is the poem--including my little rambling that often accompanies a poem--that i typed up yesterday (ready to copy and paste should power have returned before midnight). while i believe the power outage may have been a sign, i will still post the poem (especially after laboring over it so) and ignore the Fates.



Winds of Emotion


I see into the eye of every storm.
Before a glint is ever seen, I feel
its repercussions move along their course.
Each storm’s unique conception plays a role;
designing futures good and bad for all
who lie within the path of eager winds.

I watch emotions rise and fall like winds
intense enough to spark the smallest storm.
They build beneath the surface drawing all
their energy from everything we feel
‘til they explode. Uncertain of their role
accumulating clouds set out their course.

I find myself in tune with emotion’s course;
where no on else can see these magic winds
my radar charts each cloud’s important role.
These swirling colors help me chase the storm--
for red and blue and pink each has a feel.
Of anger…heartache…joy…I know them all.

I watch as red unfurls its wings in all.
The span at times is small, but still its course
invokes a swirl acute enough to feel
beyond its origins--while still some winds
expand their reach, a raging tempest storm
does revel in its coarse unstable role.

I find myself rejoice in pinks sweet role,
as one by one its strength surpasses all.
It rains so pure so powerful--this storm--
that nothing can offset its steady course.
The touch so tender spread on gentle winds
instills a light of hope for all to feel

I see the truth beyond the way we feel
and I am quite uncertain of my role.
I watch the impact coursing on the winds
and I am thrown by how it hits us all.
I find myself entwined within each course
and still I somehow weather every storm.

I feel the remnants fester with each storm--
emotions role still lingers on its course--
the subtle winds on tap inside us all.



i’m not sure i’ll make it into the pub before last call. One because at this moment i’m typing away in the dark (smart me charged my laptop in anticipation of this possibility). if i’m lucky the power will return before Brian Miller make last call at dVerse~Poets Pub evening of Poetics.


anyway, this would be an issue if it hadn’t take all of yesterday to unearth my third eye. i continually pondered what i’d wish to see, but nothing felt right (or should i say write). then an idea popped along with (what became) the first line of this poem.


now technically i probably could have made it to the mic before things went dark and the candlelight was for more than just ambiance, but i heard within that first line a sestina in the making. (one would think after laboring over this week’s dVerse~Poets Pub FormForAll presentation of the sestina--which crazy me chose to write in iambic pentameter--i would have to be insane to give it another go.) one thing is for sure, should i give the sestina a go again meter is going out the window; the only thing that wears on my nerves more than rhyming and counting syllables is writing in strict meter.


so to be completely honest i have no idea if my hit the mark for my original intent with the whole third eye…nor whether i hit the mark on writing (did i mention i‘m mentally unbalanced) in iambic pentameter. truthfully i’m too tired to read it back over … plus i am pretty good at settling for so-so…or pathetic as the case may be.


if we are lucky i’ll make it in just before the stroke of midnight. this way less people will be likely to read this monstrosity and two i’ll stop contemplating the idea of presenting it for OpenLinkNight should i remain in the dark past the witching hour.


(on a side note: sounds are much freakier in the dark by the flicker of candlelight.)



even though i missed the deadline i included all the links in case anyone feels like checking out all of the amazing poets who took up the Poetics challenge or if you'd like to learn more about the sestina form.