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.

Friday, November 23, 2012

2 Can I Have This Dance?: I Fell Too

Title:  Apologize 
Artist:  OneRepublic
Album:  Dreaming Out Loud
Genre:  Rock

I Fell Too
Our love burned bright blue;
so brilliant was the flame,
fear gripped my heart anew.
If I could explain
what took control of me,
it might lessen the pain
and maybe you'd see
the rope was seared not cut.
Though you might disagree,
I did this for you
unsure I could ever
accept a love so true.

Tuesday, November 20, 2012

11 Last Call: HIB - Internal Trauma (Speak Up)

HIB - Internal Trauma (Speak Up)

Sticks and stones may break your bones
but words...
                               words are like
Mola Ram's fingers piercing the chest cavity
withdrawing your still beating heart
while you--blood slowly draining--look on
as he displays your very core
for all to gawk and sneer at.

I picture him as the rough-n-tough 4th grader
and my heart stills in my chest; now,
three years later, he stand before me
eyes glassy--long-T wiping away tears
before they can fall and add to his disgrace.
My very core aches at the sight of him
desperately trying to maintain his dignity.
The office just a few quick steps
from the stairwell where we stand waits
unwanted, but it's okay 'cause I'm as good
as any office; so with a bit of prodding he
relates the words spoken in cruel jest in front
of his peers--frustration, fear, and despair
echo in his voice.

We talk of this infection and how I...we
can't let it spread--for his health as well as others.
With him resigned--
accepting of this idea,
I send him back to class then head
for the unwanted to complete the paperwork
so the investigation--the anti(bullying)virus
can begin it healing journey.

Broken bones can be reset and pinned,
but words....
                      becareful of the words
their stealth attack like internal bleeding
if untreated can cause massive blood loss
where your silence signs your death note.

Side Note #1:  For those unfamiliar with the HIB acronym, they stand for Harassment, Intimidation, and Bullying.

Side Note #2:  Mola Ram is a character from Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom.

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.

Monday, November 19, 2012

3 Q Series: Why Poetry? -- Q2

Welcome to the second installment of the first Q Series, aptly named Poetry. (For more information on the Q Series, see information located at the end of this post.) Over the course of three Monday's--today being the second--I will be exploring three questions about poetry and myself. They are as follows:
Why do I write poetry?
Why do I like writing form (poetry)?
Why do I prefer free verse (poetry)?

So with out further ado...

Why Form Poetry? Seriously, what on earth would possess me (or anyone for that matter) to constrain poetic inspiration to a rigid set of rules and parameters? Don't get me wrong, I understand the aesthetics of form: the way meter plays to the rhythm of the words, the way rhyming presents an appealing sound, the way repetition adds a flow and emphasize to a thought. I can definitely appreciate the use of poetic form both when I read silently or aloud. But to employ such constraints truly hurts my brain.  Truth be told, poetic form and I have a love-hate relationship.  I love to hate it.

The inner workings of my brain...
Now one might think that my logical - very structured - left brain would love the rules and guidelines set forth by form, but one of the benefits of writing is being able to shutdown that half of my brain. It provides me with an opportunity to allow the irrational thoughts and fears threatening to consume me run free--more like a mustang on the open range than a stallion let out in the fenced in pasture. If it were solely up to my brain, I would fight tooth-and-nail not to write in form. Although it is my brain...yes the lovely left brain...that has rationalized out why I like writing in form.

The irrational thoughts...
While I expressed in the previous installment, I started writing because it was a way for me to expel all of the crazy thoughts and fears that induce anxiety and stress.  Poetry is my coping mechanism.  I find, however, the older I get the harder it is for me to lull these thoughts to sleep, for though I talk about this being a purging of sorts, they always resurface.  I find that the annoyance and struggles of writing in form, following a specific rhyme scheme or employing a certain meter, help to take my mind off of the emotions and feelings that I am writing about.

The lessening of pain...
It is sort of like biting my finger when I have a massive headache.  My hurting finger helps to dull the ache (or my knowledge of the ache) in my head.   I'm able to write out the emotions and feelings without having them overwhelm me.  The harder, stronger, or deeper the emotion, the more I love to hate poetic form.  It really is as simple as that.  

The Q Series is a new theme. I decided Mondays needed to be spiced up a little bit. Plus I do kind of miss my incessant ramblings. How it works is quite simple. I take a topic of interest to me, personal or not, pose two - four questions, and spend several Mondays exploring the questions. I might miss the occasional Monday with this, but there is no hard and fast rule that I must post on least not yet.