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.

Saturday, March 26, 2011

2 I'm waiting

where's the music man
the drums won't beat by themselves
the guitar won't strum a tune alone
the lyrics won't sing of their own accord
where's my music man
with his raspy sultry voice
with his rough caressing fingers
transport me
with that silvery sweet tongue
unravel me
with that callused tender touch
take me away with you
to a land of eternal bliss
where's my music man
take me
I'm waiting

Friday, March 25, 2011

12 teardrop

Carnation Tear
(photo by rmp, that's me)
[poster artwork
"Teardrop" by Paul Hogg]
i have been infatuated with this poster since first i laid eyes on it.  i can't say what draws me so, but it has graced my walls for years now.  you can see the lines of crinkles from where she has been rolled up for transport from one residence to another.

maybe it's the tear that is just escaping from the corner of her eye--for i live my life with tears perpetually threatening the corners of my eyes.  maybe it's the soft hues mixed with the vibrant red--there's something ethereal about her.  whatever it might be that seduces me i don't really know, but i have found myself many times over (often when in sullen moods) staring at her.

i wonder what she's thinking...i wonder if she's looking at something specific or staring off into space...i wonder if her tear is one of joy or sorrow...i wonder how long she will plague me...

Wednesday, March 23, 2011

9 choose your weapon

the gauntlet has been thrown
but this is no duel at twenty paces
with pistols meant to be drawn
no--this is a volley of words
slung back and forth
drawing your gaze
from one to the other
keeping you on the edge of your seat
wondering who will win
there is no judge--no jury
no bloody death to decide the victor
their weapons clash unhindered
growing louder and louder
with every strike that hits home
their dual voices blend together
until one is indistiguishable from the other
their faces an identical shade
as they hit the final crescendo
and then
utter silence permeates the air
the room holds its breath
finally they accept defeat
turn and walk away
their wounds concealed
deep within their hearts

this morning i read Three Word Wednesday's words [3WW=>dual, identical, volley], then tucked them away for later.  upon later thoughts, i admit that the wrong word popped into my mind.  i had the first four lines before an inkling set in that something seemed off.  the word was not duel, but dual.  by that time, i was committed; i liked the thoughts that were rolling around in my head.  so i went with it.  after a little while, the first two words found their place beside the third (and duel).

Monday, March 21, 2011

11 I Shall Not Compromise

do tell me true or not at all
on this I shall not compromise
words were not meant to wear a guise
nor stand to build a great stone wall

within your spell you hope I’ll fall
through coated words that tantalize
but tell me true or not at all
on this I shall not compromise

don’t cast that gaze meant to enthrall
nor hide behind those pale blue eyes
my heart can’t take your twisted lies
I wager you should heed my call
do tell me true or not at all

so i now round out (or should i say rond out) my poetic adventures by adding rondels to walk beside my rondelet and rondeau.  this is my somewhat so-so attempt on One Stop Poetry's Form Monday prompt.  it was definitely quite an adventure.  i had lines all over the place; eventually i melded them into couplets and then twisted those around until they seem to fit with some cohesive entity.  initially "my heart can't take your twisted lies" was the second half of the refrain, but inevitably i pushed it out and replaced it with "on this I shall not compromise."  i think it makes for a slightly stronger refrain. my only question at this moment is whether or not to make it a rondel prime (a.k.a. a french sonnet).

as i finally sat back i found myself completely drained.  counting syllables (especially in iambic) really takes a toll.  when i realized i had yet to think about Jingle Poetry's Poetry Potluck [lies, deception, and misrepresentation], well i admit i was far from excited to delve into another poem.  i thought about posting act IV of my ballad (seeing as how it was unlikely that many people would come across this tale that has taken quite a toll on me and is far from done), but i have this thing about adhering to the theme even if they are not overly picky about deviations.  So as this wild diatribe is going on in my head it suddenly dawns on me that the rondel actually fits this week's theme.  so those of you at Jingle Poetry can count yourself blessed that you will not get sucked into my epic ballad.

Sunday, March 20, 2011

5 perfectly still

he sits perfectly still
watching and waiting
he laughs inside
as they marvel at him
so real
like a delicate flower
so perfect
it must be fake
their fingers itch
to reach out and touch
their need for confirmation
evident in their beady eyes
instead they just stare
at his stone cold face
then walk away
he finds they rarely
look close enough
for if they did
they'd surely see
the truth they seek
in the black coals of his eyes
he sits perfectly still
like the statue beneath him
watching and waiting
to bestow his gift
of luck
on someone
who truly
sees him

Photo by James Rainsford

as i marveled at this image from One Stop Poetry's One Shoot Sunday [interview with James Rainsford], i could help but notice how perfect the bird's color was for camouflaging with the stone statue he is about ready to depart.  and so the poem above took flight (sorry, i couldn't help myself).