1 blue vortex

crystal blue eyes
tugs at me
like the moon
does the ocean
i want to dive in
drown in the secrets
your gaze promises

1 i am a conundrum

I am a Sculptor of Young Minds
I battle
rough challenging minds
that fight tooth and nail
wishing not to be molded

I am a Mathematics Connoisseur
I live for
the seductive art of numbers
that hold the answers
to the world around us

I am a Technology Guru
I poke
ever evolving technology
that causes others headaches
yet supposedly makes life easier

I am an Introspective Poet
I find myself in
delicious and intoxicating words
that steal my emotions
expelling them from me

I am a walking oxymoron
I suffer
from social anxiety
that rules my insides
yet compensated by a friendly exterior

I am me
a Sculptor of Young Minds
a Mathematics Connoisseur
a Technology Guru
an Introspective Poet
a Walking Oxymoron
a conundrum
that has yet to be solved

---

i have always thought of myself as a jack of many traits.  so when Poetic Asides' prompt asked for "a profile poem" i decided to pull together all the people i have described myself to be.  i am more than just what is presented here, but i think this covers the general categories (except the emotionally disturbed part of me).

1 to share or not to share

i am not you
you are not me
the choices i make are not yours
the choices you make are not mine
i may wish to bare everything
you may wish to know everything
i may wish to know everything
you may wish to keep everything
it's none of my business what you do
it is your choice to share
it's none of your business what i do
it is my choice to not share

---

i wasn't really sure my first poem inspired by Poetic Asides' prompt to "write an 'ain't none of my business' poem" really fit...so i tried another; it fits a bit better.

1 for my eeys olny

I hvae a prahse taht hunats me
erevy wkanig day and ngiht
I fnid msylef cughat by tiher tturh
tehy ehco in my haed
wehn srsets stes in
it paluegs me
utnil tsohe diveslih wrdos
euprt lkie pisoon form my lpis

---

there is a study apparently that says it does not mtaetr the oderr of the lterets of wdors for the hmaun bairn can raed the mxeid up wdors so lnog as the frsit and lsat lterets are in the crorcet sotps. so i thought it might be fun for the topic above to toy with this theory. can your read the poem?


i don't really think this fits the prompt, but nonetheless it was inspired by Poetic Asides' challenge today to "write an 'ain't none of my business' poem."

8 never really friends

we were never friends
not really
how could we be
when all we did
was dance around each other

what we had
was an illusion
so well crafted
it fooled all
including us

the passage of time
has brought to light
the truth
still i tragically cling
to what never was

we were never friends
that is quite evident
but still
you stole my heart
leaving me an empty shell

maybe that is the reason
all we ever did
was dance around each other
we were too afaid--too young
unsure of how to open our hearts

---

i wasn't sure this morning when i first looked at the words from Three Word Wednesday [3WW=>evident, illusion, tragic(ally)] where they might lead...nothing jumped out at me.  as i head home from work, i thought once again about them and checked out Poetic Asides' promt, which was to "write a poem that remembers an old relationship."  oddly enough, i had been reminiscing about an old relationship recently.  this made me think of a pom seed i had written awhile back (the first stanza of this poem).  the pieces just seem to fall together and the above poem was born...

1 taste of love

honey sweet kisses
drive
me crazy

your lips
are the only
aphrodisiac
i need

---

i still have some issues with the concept of 'create a picture'...the idea of it needing to be visual continues to plague me...but how do you ignore the other senses?  (see earlier post, "Creates a Picture?")  so this septolet explores picture creation though taste.  


today is day 12 and i'm still managing at least a poem a day...i hit a bit of wall a couple of days ago (see, "poeming update"), but i've come out the other side...


for inspiration i stole Poetic Asides' first (Two-Tuesday) prompt, "write a form poem."

12 Creates a Picture?

how do you paint a picture?
not on canvas
limited to two-dimensions
absorbed by sight
neglectful of other senses

how do you sculpt an image?
not of clay
limited to three-dimensions
devoured by sight alone
since touch is forbidden

how do you create a picture?
what medium
unlimited dimensions
embodies every sense
sight, touch, smell, taste, sound

how do you breathe a image to life?
i use words
bound only by the limits of my imagination
imbued with every sense
seen, felt, smelt, tasted, and heard

---

one of the forms i've explored speaks to creating a picture.  the left side of my brain insists upon interpreting this as a visual entity...describe color and actions.  but i can't help but think a picture is more than what you see; it's infused with every sense so you could close your eyes, feel the tingle on your tongue, breath in the lusciousness, feel the texture--rough and silky--, hear the whisper in the air, and see yourself apart of the image.  


i don't know...i guess i thought i'd dispel my left brains constraints through a senseless (insert silly chuckle here) poem.


linked to One Stop Poetry's One Shot Wednesday...

3 Darwin Shamed

survival
no longer relies
on fittest
but on wealth
technology has destroyed
our evolution

---

today i was introduced to a new form by One Stop Poetry's Form Monday...so i thought i give it a couple of goes. this is my second shadorma of the day and my response to Jingle Poetry's Poetry Potluck [evolution, environmnet, survival].

3 Too Young

just the name
brings threatening tears
to a crest
painful waves
carrying what could have been
crash against my heart

---

i've had a very turbulent day. one particular thought lingers in me...so i thought i'd use One Stop Poetry's Form Monday to expel it from my system...i suppose expel is a little optimistic.  so here is my first shadorma.

3 deflated

his brow furrowed when he saw my dress
he scratched his head
when he caught sight of my bubblegum pink shoes
finally he looked at me
with his question plainly visible in his facial expression
I shrugged my shoulders
at loss for how to explain
but he read the expression as well as the ones
he made a living off of
strange
how sometimes he seemed to know me
better than I knew myself
I don't wear dresses
I don't care much at all for bright colors
but today
I woke feeling blue
and thought these things might lift me up
his expression
went from puzzled
to pondering
to inspiration
he drew a yellow balloon
from his pocket and began to blow
with each breath
he seemed more and more drained
as he tied the final knot
then wrapped it with a matching string
I marveled at how the balloon rose from his hand
now I was the one who stood puzzled
as he offered me his mysterious gift
his expression willed me to take the yellow floating bubble
but the moment the yellow string touched my hand
the ballon began to fall
the treasure he had given me
seemed quite intent on matching my mood
not until it finally touched ground did I realize
I
no longer did
after a moment of shock I looked at him
his big goofy grin looked up at me
and I found myself smiling
he held out his hand
I took it
oh what a sight we must be
for away we walked
me with my deflated balloon
and he with my colorful floating self

---

Photo by Lauren Randolph

her friend is a mime...i don't exactly say that in so many words...i had intended on mentioning it...but somehow it never came up...maybe i'll work it in...maybe i'll let it stand as a mystery.


inspiration for today's poem came from One Stop Poetry's One Shoot Sunday [interview with Lauren Randolph].