0 should happiness and i meet

day nine is coming to an end...rather quickly...and i have yet to put my words together into some semblance of form.  today...like yesterday...i will deviate from the prompts that have been posed today and work off my own insane thoughts...

---

when i find happiness
will i walk up to it
and embrace it
open arms

when happiness finds me
will it have to walk up
and slap me in the face
for me to take notice

when i find happiness
will i talk myself out of it
and leave it to weep
for me

when happiness finds me
will it talk me into letting go
and promise me a world free
of the fears that bind

when i find happiness
will i know it
or am i too lost
to see it for what it is

when happiness finds me
will it shout loud enough
or will it let me
continue blindly on

when i find happiness...
when happiness finds me...
is when being too optimistic
should i say instead if...

0 before i go... (lyrics....song #3)

tell me one more thing before i go
tell me deep inside yourself you know

i've been waiting for someone like you to come along
oh baby, how could a love like ours have gone so wrong

---

that's all i got at the moment...not much i know...but.right now that is all i hear...i'm not sure if the two couplets above belong adjacent or if something should fall inbetween…maybe more will come...maybe not...


the words above are an unfinished and unsung song.  they are my third adventure (at least on this blog) into writing lyrics...  so far i have yet to finish a single one of the three.  the bits and pieces i put together just float out there waiting to be made whole...

1 the last laugh

the cursor laughs at me
HA..HA..HA..HA
it sees my frustration--my agony
it watches me close my eyes
run my hands through my hair
then over my face as blank screen
stares back at me empty
HA..HA..HA..HA
the cursor mocks me--taunting me
with it monotone sound
and faultless rhythm
HA..HA..HA..HA
like a clock ticking
HA..HA..HA..HA
i want to reach in
grab it 'round the middle
and squeeze the laughter out of it
of course i can't
and it knows it
HA..HA..HA..HA
but what it doesn't know
what it can not see
is the smile that is building
inside of me
HA..HA..HA..HA
i want to mimic back
for it will not bully me
anymore
it's laughter will be put to shame
by the sinister one
soon to escape my lips
HA..HA..HA..HA
let laugh all it wants
for the last laugh will be mine
as shove the blinking cursor
around the page
HA..HA..HA..HA
and use its own taunt
to fuel my might fingers
and show that little cursor
he will not get the best of me
hnn..hnn..hnn..hnn..hnn

---

wasn't really sure how to make a sinister laugh...but i suppose 'hnn..hnn..hnn..hnn..hnn' will do.  

1 poeming update...

it's day 8...and no i have yet to write today's poem...but i have managed over the previous seven days to write at least one poem a day.  in fact, on more than half those seven days, i have written two poems every day...that doesn't include the two tweetoetries i wrote on day 5.  All of them have been (one way or another) in response to prompts from my "When the Gloves Come Off.." list located in the right side bar (toward the bottom).  looking back over the past three months, i noticed that only eight times did i write a poem that was not (in one way or another) a response to a prompt.  that would be eight out of approximately 60 poems.  that equals approximately 13%.  i'm not sure if that is a bad thing or a good thing.  the prompts make me look beyond myself and i enjoy writing them (even when the ideas don't flow right away and let things stew awhile).  and it's not like i lost myself at all; i'm hidden within the words of each poem. 

i don't know.  maybe i just feel lost today and this was something tangible that i could grab onto (like a tree in the forest) until i'm found again.  i still have to write today's poem, but my mood is not very welcoming at the moment.  there are two prompts today that could help get the creative juices flowing, but i just can't seem to dredge up the energy to get enthused by either today.  but the day is not over...and i have no intentions of missing a day...so we'll just have to wait and see...

4 Don't Speak the Truth, Just Fabricate

don't speak the truth like a disguise
meant to cover up untold lies
i don't want shallow accolades
there's no need to play such charades
stop dressing up your words it makes you seem uncouth
quit pampering me with small truths...don't speak the truth.


just fabricate some crazy tale
full of elaborate detail
i want it to smell of deceit
there is no need to be discreet
as peculiar as this sounds your lies will inflate
on this point i'm adamant, please just fabricate

---

so i managed to finish the poem i tried so hard yesterday to put together.  it is my second attempt at a wrapped refrain, my second response to yesterdays Poetic Asides' challenge and my intended first try at Three Word Wednesday [3WW=>adamant, fabricate, peculiar]...i almost forgot to fit peculiar in...  i think i like the first stanza better than the second...the fist just feels stronger to me...and i'm not a hundred percent sure the second is strong enough to stand with it...but please feel free to tell me whopper and say they fit perfectly together...  

1 tangled in possibilities

what if...
how easy it is
to get caught up in
what if...
tangled in a web of
what ifs...
always sandwiched
between one
what if...
and another
what if...
how is it possible
to be surrounded
by so many
what ifs...
how could it be
that every single thought
every tiny decision
begins with
what if...
how can one live
truly live
bound by
what if...
suffocated by
an endless stream of
what if...
          what if...
                    what if...
                 what if...
        what if...
what if...
   what if...
          what if...
                    what if...
                 what if...
        what if...
   what if...

what if...

     what if...

               what if...

                       what if...

                          what if...

                    what if...

            what if...

  what if...

       what if i stopped saying
what if...

---

7 make believe

she weave her tale like a pro
the intonations in her voice
the adamant gestures and facial expressions
so perfect
she draws you in to her peculiar story
with such skill and easy
with her amazing attention to detail
so real
she wraps you around her finger
so you forget it isn't real
so you buy in to her fabrication
she makes you believe
with every ounce of your being
with every single word she wields
she just three
but even i fall pray to her elaborate saga
of how fabric ate Adam Ant

---

forgive me for the end...the whole tale really.  though truth be told if i had been able to figure out how to break peculiar up into pieces it too would have made it in to her little tale...


i admit that i did try to avoid this idea.  tried putting something else together, but it got the best of me in the end and i had to put by the wayside...maybe i'll revisit it...or maybe i won't...only time will tell...


inspiration for this peculiar little piece comes from Three Word Wednesday [3WW=>adamant, fabricate, peculiar]. 

0 Don't Walk Away, Put up a Fight

don't walk away...stay here with me
hold fast to all that we could be
be the star in my empty sky
tell me our love will never die
wrap me in your warm embrace and tell me you'll stay
my heart will not survive your loss...don't walk away

put up a fight...don't let me go
our love should have a chance to grow
the wall i've built is not so strong
cracks have form since you came along
find the strength within you to be my shining knight
help me to defeat my fears and put up a fight

---

i thought i might find a form to inspire me for the words over at 3WW, but instead found the perfect fit for Poetic Asides' challenge to write a poem using "the phrase 'Don't (blank), (blank);' replace the blanks with a word or phrase." the poetic form above is known as a Wrapped Refrain. 

so, back to the drawing board for 3WW...

2 etched on my heart

like a photograph
your image is etched on my heart
that last breathing memory
holds fresh and raw
at times
i wish i could scrape it away
burn away the glisten trails
that grace my cheeks
and then
there are times
i wish i could be transported
back to that moment
wrap my arms around it
and never let go

---

that's all the tears that blur my vision will allow me to write...my heart feels there is still more to be said, but it's too tongue-tied at the moment.


created in response to Jingle Poetry's Poetry Potluck [photographs, memories, and nostalgia]...(i'm arriving a little late to the party, but i'm sure no one will mind too much.)

1 Barney's Defense

appalled by his words
shocked by his audacity
she slapped him across the face

humor kept him safe
though his bros often dismissed
his need to safeguard his heart

---

i had thought with Poetic Asides' duel challenge i might write a "half & half" poem, half serious-half goofy...even thought i picked a decent topic.  in the end though, it turned more serious than expected.  regardless of how it turned out, i think my choice of form worked well...since i intended to look at this from two perspecitves (originally one goofy and one serious), a sedoka seemed like it would be the best attack.

4 The Music Man

his calloused fingers strum a gentle tune
weaving a spell of musical delight
while his raspy voice croons a sultry song
whispering promises to make her swoon

the words he crafted are meant to ignite
a burning passion deep within her soul
through a weaved spell of musical delight

while his raspy voice croons a sultry song
he pours out his heart so he might feel whole
knowing deep down this love cannot be wrong

he whispers promises to make her swoon
words he crafted so her heart would ignite
revealing a love that could not be wrong
his calloused fingers strum a loving tune

---

i couldn't help myself...  with Poetic Asides' challenge to "pick a type of person and write a poem about him or her," i had to revisit "i'm waiting" and my music man.  i also felt the need to toy once again with the form i crafted in "indefinitely delayed."  as before, each line has ten syllables and six lines that each repeat once with two non-repeating lines following the pattern and rhyme scheme:  A1-B1-C1-A2 / B2-d-B1 / C1-d-C2 / A2-B2-C2-A1 (capital letters denote repeating lines).  occasionally a repeated line is tweaked slightly, but maintains the same general set of words.  i wasn't sure how well this non-form form would work again, but i think i kind of like the results.  if i really wanted to get fancy i'd pay more attention to syllabic stresses...but i toyed with that already today and am quite exhausted from it.


linked to OSP's One Shot Wednesday...just because i felt like it this week...

4 positively insane

i must have been absolutely insane.  i (for the most part) have the whole iambic thing down; so of course it makes perfect sense to try for anapest.  did i mention i'm absolutely insane.  i think it would be one thing if i were to try from scratch, 'cause then figuring out how to twist something just right wouldn't be so hard since the whole thing is an open slate.  now whether my thinking is accurate or not is another story, but anyway i took my most resent poem (or at least the beginning of it anyway) and tried for making it into anapest feet.  i think my biggest problem is multi-syllable words that don't have the stress at the end (for some reason i think it disturbs the flow). 

Original eight lines of plunge into nonexistence:

i watched the ripples on the surface
as i sank into nonexistence
concentric circles
spread far beyond my reach
fading into the distance
until they too were nonexistent
so mesmerized by this was i
i barely noticed the true picture

Rewrite in anapest feet--though truth be told i have a hard time hearing this type of beat...

while I stare at the surface where ripples do spread
nonexistence takes hold as I sink far beneath
waves of beautiful circles of light
in the distance beyond my short reach they do fade
‘til they too disappear from existence and sight
so enthralled by this small fact was I
the true picture I barely did notice it’s truth

this reflection into poetic feet was the result of a challenge set forth at One Stop Poetry's Form Monday.  i'm not so sure how well i hit the mark on this challenge, but the description of the prosody was quite informative.

0 plunge into nonexistence

i watched the ripples on the surface
as i sank into nonexistence
concentric circles
spread far beyond my reach
fading into the distance
until they too were nonexistent
so mesmerized by this was i
i barely noticed the true picture
yes my reach was limited
immense waves did not gather
the world was not swallowed whole
by my enormous waves of existence
the loss of my touch was not felt
save for those ripples closest to me
though the smallest circles
their height was something to marvel at
within them they held those most touched
the impact my plunge
into nonexistence had on them
went beyond reason
and while they'll never know
a life different from theirs
one empty of me
i can see quite clearly to the surface
of what is and what was
the only true question as i sink further down
do i allow myself to be swept away
or do i fight for the world that should be?

---

so, day 3 and i've managed to stick to my adopted April rule.  today, i even find myself penning twice.  the key is to remember that this does not mean i can use an extra poem as an excuse to not write one on a different day.  anyway...


Poetic Asides' challenge was to think of what life might be without you (well i suppose i should say 'without me').  i truly cannot begin to fathom what a world without me would be like.  for all i know is what i would miss out on, not necessarily the impact it would have on others.  nonetheless, the first two lines popped into my head early on and i figured instead of wasting them (after all, i did write my one poem for the day), i let them spread across the contours of my imagination.  

3 Capturing the Soul

her eyes drew in the scene from behind the camera
the sound of the shutter blocked out the noise around her
and she became entranced by what lay before her

the poise, the fluidness, the delicacy
of the beauty on the other side of the lens
entranced her, mystified her, rapt her

so engrossed by the sound of the camera
and the beauty it fraught to capture
she barely noticed the vibrant eyes' luster vanishing

once it caught her attention that was all she saw
with every click of the shutter
her eyes could see more clearly the absence of shine

when the photographer paused for but a moment
and the rhythmic sound of the shutter ceased
she noticed the beauty's striking resemblance to her own

drawing her hand away from her face
she gazed upon her translucent skin
just as the sound of the shutter recommenced

she watch as with every click of the shutter
the translucency faded into a opaqueness
until she found herself quite whole

once again she looked at the mirror image of the beauty
the eyes a blank soulless stare of blackness
she vaguely heard the shutter stop, the session end

as she was left, just her, gone was the vacant-eyed beauty
the photographer flipped a switch on the camera
submerging her into complete and utter darkness

she felt a strange glow behind her and spun
a movie sized window stood before her
the giant eerie smile of the photographer looked at her

"ah, my delicate precious flower,
you will be the perfect addition to my collection."
then came a click and she was engulfed by the darkness.

---

(photo by India Hobson)

i really think some of my most inspired ideas come while driving.  as is always the case, i was not sure how i might transform the photo challenge from One Stop Poetry's One Shoot Sunday [interview with India Hobson].  and i won't go into detail, but be happy my first thoughts (which included a CSI photographer) were dismissed.  after the thought of soul stealing popped, i couldn't help but think back to the interview where the photographer had said she once thought "the 'soul' could be seen in a photograph."  how could this idea not be a perfect way to go after that?!?