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, February 1, 2013

15 CIHTD?: Tune (Stuck Inside My Head)

Title:  Day that I Die
Artist:  Zac Brown Band (feat. Amos Lee)
Album:  Uncaged
Genre:  Country

Notes:  There is something about the way he sings "a guitar in my hands."  I don't really know why but I do. I had thought I might use that as my 'radif' (see information on form below), but I found myself instead utilizing a phrase from the line "I just kept chasing that melody."  I even initially used 'that', but 'our' just felt a better fit by the time I uncovered the first stanza.  Yes, in the scheme of things, I wrote four stanzas prior to coming back to the one that used the 'radif' in both lines.  A couple of other lines from the song played into the poem, but for the most part the topic is not aligned with the song.

A Form Aside:  This is a ghazal--more specifically it is intended to be a ghazal sonnet.  This was not my first attempt at a ghazal.  I tried one (back in August 2011).  Normally I try to give a form several goes before I make a decision on it, which is why when it popped up at dVerse Poets Pub for their FormForAll, I thought I'd give it another go.  Still not really sold on it, but...

Tune (Stuck Inside My Head)
I never shall erase our melody
nor could I dare replace our melody.
You are the only tune I care to know,
though I might have to chase our melody.
My fingers long to graze your skin
allowing me to trace our melody.
How long, I wonder, must I wait for you
to finally embrace our melody.
I know how fear can still the beat,
but please do not deface our melody.
Until the very end I'll sing of us
and strum across my bass our melody.
Guitar in hand with roses at our feet
together we'll retrace our melody.

my humble offerings for dVerse Poets Pub FormForAll.  If you get a chance, check out what some amazing talents are doing with the ghazal form.

Thursday, January 31, 2013

2 Batch #9

Bursting with Pom Seeds
(image by rmp, that's me)
It's been approximately six months since my last Pom Seed update.  I admit that as with the last post I have not been very active in using my twitter persona to hold some of the little ideas and thoughts that pop into my head with the potential to become something much more than they are.

In accordance with my last batch, I will only be posting new pom seeds and ramblings along with any leftover pom seed/old rambling that managed to burst into some juicy little treat.  I have also decided that there really is not much difference between pom seeds and ramblings, so as of today I'll be merging them all under the pom seed listing.  I will allow all previously labeled ramblings to keep their title on the Pom Seeds page.  Still, I have also decided to assess some of the old ramblings that had tweetoetry potential and add them into the tweetoetry collection that usually follows pom seeds.

So...without further ado...

Pom Seeds Batch #9
(bold have already burst to life)
  • I feel like I’m trapped in a left-brain’s body ~ creativity screaming to be unleashed
  • on day I will accept the truth ~ even if it's with my last breath
  • is it possible to know love when you've never known heartache?  is it possible to know heartache when you've never known love? (The First That Wan't)
  • the sun blazes brightly ~ and yet the sky cries softly
  • I see them in shadows; standing shoulder to shoulder; as they did on that fateful night (High Noon)
  • this social anxiety is not bound by the physical world...

  • my heart quakes; earth-shattering tremors; only I can feel; course through me; I search for safety; the open embrace; of... (Fabricated Love)
  • how long will I wait for someone to show me my worth before I except the truth (Worth)

~Fluttering Laughter

her laugh
is like butterfly wings
tickling every one of
my senses

#107 (tanka)
~Floating Laughter

she twirls—skirts flaring
opening like a flower
casting love my way
her laughter floats through the air
like dandelion wishes

#108 (tanka-ish)

howling winds stir--cut
harsh paths--left in their wake
whispering remnants
speak of hearts torn from homes
as destruction lay at feet

~haunting slumber~

sleep lives outside my peripheral vision
taunting me with flashes of eyelids
beckoning me to give chase

~beneath the covers~

your warmth encases me
pulls me into your spell
of dreams ready to be fulfilled


moonlight dances
along the ripples of your surface
I long to dive in
alter the tempo--the rhythm
to match the beat of my internal fire

~sweet words~

spun sugar is
a web of white lies
you don't want to get stuck in

#113 (tanka)

you're like no one else
how I long to make you melt
my love--my snowflake
I open my arms to you
tilt my head towards your sweet kiss


I put a pulse
to my hate
and it beat
for me

#115 (haiku-ish)
~Moonlit Dreams

beneath evening's gaze
moon kissed eyelids awaken
dreams of pure delight

~ Wishy-Washy

fickle tears  
  they pour when sad 
  they pour when happy 
  they thunder when hurt 
you'd think 
  they'd pick an emotion 
and stick with it


I wish I had the words 
to heal this wound 
but they seem to elude 

still I try 
pouring out word after word 
hoping I'll find the perfect mix


pathetic really 
the way anxiety grips my heart 
as I step outside myself 

reaching out 
to those on the inside of the circle 
I skirt

~Involuntary Verbal Spews

anxiety's peace 
tastes like profanity 
on virgin lips

~Delicate Balance
he walks backwards 
along a fine line with ease 
not batting an eye 
through his omission

~Awaken Dreams

sleep evades my tired body 
dancing before my eyelids 
taunting my restless mind 
I so long to just...

~Release the Mask

I'm tired 
              tired of smiling 
it takes too much energy 
      wears on me 
eroding me from the inside out

~A Taste of the Future

I taste a little 
bit of sunshine 
on your lips 

a whole 
lot of tomorrows 
in your kiss

~Not I

random thoughts float about in my head 
longing to spill out 
but who would wish to listen 
to such randomness

~ Upside-down Frown

i need a happy thought 
my lips 
to feel the contours 
of a smile

Wednesday, January 30, 2013



tendrils creep intent
on breaching still chambers
reviving a lost drab core

"pulsating love quickens its beat."

It's that time again!  The last Wednesday of the Month brings forth a marvelous combination Three Word Wednesday [3WW=drab, pulsate(s), tendril(s)] and the clarity pyramid.  I always find this day to be a treat and a half.  

Sunday, January 27, 2013

2 Time Capsule: I saw your picture on a carton of milk

Title:  I saw your picture on a carton of milk
Date:  03/28/01
Setting:  Life after college--during first post-college job
Form:  Free verse
Your eyes tell a story
of a small girl with little worries
who swings peacefully along the playground
with her mother close at hand. 
The playground swing, now stands empty
as a mother’s gaze turns away
what joy and happiness once belonged here
has been taken without a trace. 
Your smile tells a tale
of a small girl’s love and passion
who dressed up in princess clothes
to parade before the king, her father. 
The clothes lay now, tucked away in drawers
as a father’s brow turns inward
what laughter and love once belonged here
has been torn from its proper place. 
Your picture tells a story
of a small girl who once belonged
about the playground and in princess clothes
a small girl taken from her home.

Notes:  The line, "I saw your picture on a carton of milk," was written after watching a lifetime movie about a girl who had seen her own image staring back at her on a carton of milk.  Over the years, even now, I have found the most trying part of writing a poem is unearthing the title. I would say that 90% of my poems found there title after completion and 9% have found it somewhere in the midst of writing it.  Very few of my poems have started off with an intended title.  This poem was the first time I had ever written a title prior to the poem.  In fact, the line was written two days prior to the poem.  Since then I have probably written a poem or two with the title already in my head.

Artifact I:  The page were I first wrote down the line that would become the title of this poem.

Artifact II:  The original write of this poem which shows the order the stanzas were written in and the numbers that reassign them.