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.

Thursday, November 8, 2012

9 Fall Tree

Brilliant reds, oranges, yellows
cling to limbs for dear life;
not ready to lay down in defeat.

An early snowfall blankets
vibrant autumn hues
compromising the strong integrity.

Under such a burdening weight—
teetering with indecision—
finally they fall forward

allowing the house to sigh in relief
as the majestic beast brushes past
laying down its arms upon the doorstep.



An Aside:  Nor'easters are evil.  Last year, an early snowfall brought down many trees unable to bare the weight of the colorful leaves and the snow.  As the snow fell yesterday, again far earlier than expected, I thought of the beautiful trees and wondered did Sandy already knock out the weak so as not to add more wood to the fire.  Surprisingly, the Three Word Wednesday [3WW=>compromise(-e+ing), (in)decision, forward] prompt played quite well with these thoughts.  If you get a chance head on over and see how other's twisted these three words into their own poem, prose, or who knows.

Wednesday, November 7, 2012

8 Last Call: Socio-neti-phobia

due to the lovely Nor'easter, which has brought snow in the wake of the lovely Sandy and additional power issues, there will be no audio this week....



Socio-neti-phobia

This social anxiety is not bound
by the physical world;
it crosses synapsis as zeros
and ones,
spreads like a virus as binary
worm,
springs forth unwittingly from its
Trojan Horse
intent on crashing -- shutting down --
every connection
I attempt to make.

Still I power on,
unwilling to allow these fears to
Ctrl;
my fingers move deftly across
keys--
painstaking thoughts attempting
to express understanding,
meaning,
worth.
I hover over every single
word;
while breath stills -- refuses to
ESC
as I, mouse at the ready, press
"Post Comment"
ENTERing a SPACE (BAR) of social
paranoia.



An Aside:  Commenting has been on my mind as of late; so much so that I recently went back and read an old post inspired by OSP Friday Poetically where I spoke about my anxiety in regard to entering the social world and spoke about a poem I had written to that end, called Follower, Friend, and the Like.  It was also during that post that I shared an unofficial rule which I was adding to my blog rules (which if you haven't noticed over on the right there are currently in active). 

The rule was to comment on at least one blog a week.  I am not going to lie, it was not easy.  That doesn't mean I did accomplish it week after week and with even more than a single comment per week, but rather that it did not get any easier the more I continued to step out on the ledge.  It has been over a year and a half since I first made that decision.  And still (fighting through the anxiety and paranoia) I do my best to not only read, but comment as often as possible.

Anyway, with the thoughts (and anxiety) running 'round still in my head, I thought I'd explore the topic again. 



This is my offerings for this week's dVerse Poets Pub OpenLinkNight. If you get a chance, check out all of the talented poets who have stepped up into the spotlight.

Sunday, November 4, 2012

8 decidophobia & High Noon

Quite some time ago I explored a gigantic list of phobias in search of one particular one; along the way I came across quite a number of phobias that struck a little too close to home.  Decidophobia, while mild, haunts me quite often.  It grows exponentially when my decision impacts or involves others (or even other's knowing about the decision).  So when reading dVerse Poets Pub Poetics for this week, Through the Artist's Lens, I had quite a time deciding.  A selection of photos by SueAnn presented quite an array, definitely making it hard to decide.

The first to strike me made me think of old westerns.  But it was not the first to spark the words that begin the poem below; that was found in not the fence, but in the shadows created by the fence.  Of all the images, there was still one that left me feeling unfocused.  After looking a bit closer, an image took shape of a girl standing on a platform.  I'm not really sure how the three (see images below) managed to merge themselves together in the oddity below, but...



High Noon

I see them in shadows
standing shoulder to shoulder
as they did on that fateful day
picket fence dreams glistening
in the glint of their eyes
noon shining overhead ringing
sparks of light shooting unruly
dreams floating away on the wind
as the dust finally cleared

I stand on the platform--a precipice
in this techno-colored world
my own picket fence dreams
threatened as I stand shoulder
to shoulder with my enemy
(my own image) staring her down
wondering who will still be standing
when the dust finally settles



High Noon

Do you see them in the shadows?

Do you see her?  What about her reflection?


2 Time Capsule: Betrayed Hearts

Title: Betrayed Hearts
Date: 04/23/01
Setting: Life after college—during first post-college job
Form: Free verse
I saw everything
as I sat quietly on my perch
the hypnotic trance
encapsulating your souls
as your bodies intertwined
the intense passion
emanating from your beings
as you melded into one
the powerful meaning
betraying your true feelings
as you gazed into each other’s eyes
I saw everything
as my heart sank quietly
I do not deny that you love me
For I know you do
but your heart longs for someone else
whether you see it or not
I saw everything
from my quiet perch.
Notes: More than ten years ago, probably two or three years before this was written, I had a story rolling ‘round in my head. It lingered so long that I thought it would make a good book / screen play. I’m not really sure which I thought of first (probably the book), but either way it didn’t much matter. I did not have the patience for writing prose (at least not beyond 5 typed pages or so) nor did I have any experience with writing screen plays. The idea mulled around in my head for quite awhile before I thought, why not try exploring the story through poetry. And so I did just that; between 04/23/01 and 06/19/01, I composed a small collection of sixteen poems (what might be called a chapbook) called 3 Hearts Betrayed. The story is told by all three characters. Each character share a part of their story, which guide through the twists and turns of a love triangle.

The past couple of years with the way that technology has opened up the world, I have thought about putting voice to the poems, adding images/video, and breaking the story open. Of course that would mean finding three voices—two if I take on the female. Plus there is the finding/creating the right images or video. I know it is not beyond my capabilities, I just am not sure I can hit the vision I have in my mind. Maybe one day…

Artifact I: The top of the page were the first poem was written that outlines the thoughts on the three characters



Artifact II: The first poem written in the collection, which is the 11th poem


Artifact III: The image from the back of the chapbook



Artifact IV: The image from the front of the chapbook