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, April 30, 2011

1 tantalizing whispers

your sweet
succulent whispers
my ear

tantalizing words
caress deep within
seducing me

1 month of poeming--reflection

today is the 30th and final day of National Poetry Month, as well as the last day of a ruleless (or single rule ruled) posting. i technically still have my last poem to write, but i thought i'd take a moment to reflect on the past month...

being a math person, we'll start with the numbers...

Total # of poems posted here over the past month = 37

Inspiration Count:
Poetic Asides = 15
Three Word Wednesday = 5
Jingle Poetry = 3
OSP (Form Monday) = 3
OSP (One Shot Wednesday) = 3
OSP (Friday Poetically) = 1
OSP (One Shoot Sunday)= 4
Uninspired Count = 9

(for those of you who can add, five poems overlap in the inspiration count)

Poetic Forms Toyed With Count:
oddquain = 1
clarity pyramid = 1
etheree = 1
blitz = 1
shadorma = 3 (though technically one probably shouldn't count 'cause it is backwards)
septolet = 1
wrapped refrain = 2
sedoka = 1
my own created form = 1
(again for those who can add, the total falls below the total, 'cause i'm partial to free verse)

now that the counts are has been an exhausting month. thankfully, there was no shortage of inspiration (that of others or my own)...of course i still have one more poem to go...

though this is not a typical batch, i thought this a good time to also share the seven tweetoetries that were produced over the course of this month. (i'll repost them appropriately in the next 'batch' with the correct number and their yet to be decided titles.)

#a (septolet)

your whispering
awakens me

i melt
into the delicious flavor
of your kiss


words dance across my tongue
drawing you in
with the slow seductive curve of my lips
as they dance to the rhythm of my heart

#c (septolet)

dry eyes
with unshed tears

revolting tears
stage a coup
raging emotions


in a world
I did not ask for
how do I find my way back
back into nonexistence
where I can be free
to at last

#e (haiku)

shades of white--pink hues
spring buds on long dormant limbs
opening my soul

#f (haiku)

pink teardrops descend
pooling beneath weeping trees/
nourishing new life

#g (tanka)

I wish that I knew
how to be on the inside
a part of the world
I'm always on the outskirts
a hell of my own making

well....that's all for now. time to start thinking about today's poem...

Friday, April 29, 2011

0 no matter what

but to dream
that is all I wish
away from the pain inside
open to a wondrous world
ready to hold me
no matter

Thursday, April 28, 2011

2 reunited

it's been quite sometime
since i last ran my hands
across you

it's been quite awhile
since last i held you firmly
in my grasp

it's been ages
since i poured my heart out
to you

it's been forever
but seems like yesterday
since last we came together
i did not realize
how much i missed you
the feel of your smooth surface
the power of your stroke
you have seduced me so many times
made me feel whole
calmed my fragile soul

it's been an eternity
since we joined forces
to create something new and beautiful

it's been eons
my faithful notebook
my dear pencil
since last we melded
help me find my way back

Wednesday, April 27, 2011


faux pas 
wrong doing 

my foolish blunder 
begs for sweet mercy 
to swipe its great eraser 

"relish learning from your mistakes."

ahh...the clarity poem tradition lives on...  for a short time, i was not sure i'd be able to manage it with this weeks Three Word Wednesday [3WW=>foolish, mercy, relish].  first it was an insanely busy day and my brain was not in the right frame of mind.  i stared at the words for a while trying to make a connection...something...anything...  finally i ask someone what the three words reminded them of.  first i got 'love'...sweet, but it didn't really do anything for me.  then i got squander.  i toyed with that for a while, 'cause well...squander just sounds like a cool word.  but trying to figure out how to put the 3WW together in a clarity poem with 'waste/squander' a third long forgotten word was next to impossible.

like always though, my best thinking happens in the car after i leave work.  i'm not sure the exact train of thought, but the word, mistake, came to mind...and from there...well you've already read what that inspiration wrought.  in the end, i think it came out okay...

Tuesday, April 26, 2011

8 to start a movement

an idea
people can get excited about


to make a fool of oneself

are at the foundation

but two more keys exist

a public forum and a nurturing nature

if no one sees your inspiration
how can you inspire?


once you hook someone
once you get that first
very crucial follower
how do you keep them hooked?

to tip the scales
to turn the lone crazy wolf howling at the moon
into a strong pack of confident wolves
inspiration and bravado must be passed on
for it is the first follower who makes a leader
who opens the door for more followers
and in turn
starts a movement i saw Poetic Asides' "Two for Tuesday" prompt to (a) write a leader poem or (b) write a follower poem and well i couldn't help but think of a TEDTalks video (How to start a movement:  Derek Sivers) i saw a while back and have since used with a cohort of teachers and students (elementary and secondary) as part of a 21st Century Skills in the Classroom Initiative.  (the course, the second in the series, is called Unlocking Technology through Leadership.)  anyway, the poem above kind of hits both aspects of the prompt.

the above piece is also being shared via One Stop Poetry's One Shot Wednesday.

Monday, April 25, 2011

0 unraveling prosody...

one would think that after torturing myself with anapest i would stay as far away from dactyl, but no.  (where's my monkey wearing his top hat and carrying his pocketbook when i need him?)  anyway, today One Stop Poetry's Form Monday continued its exploration of prosody.  after toying around with feet that end with a stress and feet that begin with a stress, i wonder why is it i always seem to want to end the first with two syllable words were the stress falls on the first half and why do i find myself itching to make each of the latter masculine?  (if you followed that last question, i'd be impressed...)  so below is my pitiful attempt at dactyl.  i did vary the length of the lines and i'm sure that it probably could be read with stress place all willy-nilly, but i've marked them the way that i hear (and feel i would speak) them.  

additional inspiration came from Poetic Asides' Challenge to "write a falling poem."


falling tears splatter like blood on a wounded soul
finally everything crashes in
pulling me
tearing me
fraying my edges and threatening all I am
will I unravel before I can find my way?

Sunday, April 24, 2011

8 Flashes of Memories

she hears the footsteps behind her
a memory flashes across closed eyelids
for the briefest of seconds she's transported
time slips away and her chest tightens
an eruption of thoughts and emotions
paralyze an already battered, beaten and aged body
eyes flicker open closing out the memories
wrinkled spotted hands clenched together
atop well abused unusable legs

she looks at the hall ahead of her
a desire to find an alternate root sets in
for too many times has she seen the faces
whose eyes reflect the same hollow sadness as her own
in person they are strong fierce individuals
but here along these halls their souls have been captured
a lens--like a microscope--sees deep within
shouting the stories they long wish to bury

she feels the presence of attendant behind her
a moment of relief sets in at the comfort of companionship
the chair begins to move down the hall
she averts her eyes from the photo laden doors
eyes become entranced on the beautiful day outside
a walk in the fresh air speaks to her soul
the flash of scenery beyond the window twists transporting her
back to that fateful day were she innocently except a ride
her village quickly flash before the car window
replaced by unfamiliar foliage
leading to a world she was far too young to experience
aged wrinkled eyes turn away from the windows--from the memories

she looks straight ahead of her
a fruitless attempt to escape
for every corner, new and old,
triggers images, thoughts, and memories
her tenuous mind longs to forget
her weak fragile body longs to erase
her tortured soul longs for recognition--
a simple acknowledgement and apology--
so when her time comes she may finally rest
in peace

"Dal Seon halmeoni"
Photo by Greg Laychak
it seems such a simple could be anyone whose time on this earth as been long and well spent...but it's not.  knowing just a fragment, a speck of dust really, of who this picture represents made me think what her hall of memories would hold for her...but truthfully i cannot even begin to fathom her life's ordeal.

the image was offered up by One Stop Poetry's One Shoot Sunday [interview with Greg Laychak].  Greg's "prominent work, 'Fading Voices' – a photo documentary project about victims/survivors of sexual slavery from WWII."