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.

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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.

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...

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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...

Leftovers

• 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)

Tweetoetry

#106
~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)
~Homeless

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


#109
~haunting slumber~

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


#110
~beneath the covers~

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


#111
~Desire

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


#112
~sweet words~

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


#113 (tanka)
~Unique

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


#114
~Self-Loathing

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


#R1
~ 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

#R2
~Static

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


#R3

~A-Part

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

#R4

~Involuntary Verbal Spews

anxiety's peace 

tastes like profanity 

on virgin lips


#R5

~Delicate Balance

he walks backwards 

along a fine line with ease 

not batting an eye 

through his omission


#R6

~Awaken Dreams

sleep evades my tired body 

dancing before my eyelids 

taunting my restless mind 

I so long to just...


#R7

~Release the Mask

I'm tired 

              tired of smiling 

it takes too much energy 

      wears on me 

eroding me from the inside out


#R8

~A Taste of the Future

I taste a little 

bit of sunshine 

on your lips 

a whole 

lot of tomorrows 

in your kiss

#R9

~Not I

random thoughts float about in my head 

longing to spill out 

but who would wish to listen 

to such randomness


#R10

~ Upside-down Frown

i need a happy thought 

my lips 

long 

to feel the contours 

of a smile

8 HEART

HEART

passion

affection

tendrils creep intent

on breaching still chambers

reviving a lost drab core

"pulsating love quickens its beat."

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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.  

9 Last Call: Embodying Her (Embracing Myself)

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Embodying Her (Embracing Myself)

she wades through my dreams just out of reach--
a dancer in the shadows of my grief.
I'm not sure how long she'll wait there for me
to realize the beauty I possess
while I struggle with a heart I can't breach.

Every once and again I catch a brief
glimpse of the person I'm supposed to be;
she dances in the shadows of my grief

bound to the darkness--longing to break free.
I wonder how long she'll wait there for me?
Full of pure love, she implores me to see

the amazing beauty that I possess--
dares me to embrace all that I should be
if I banish fear to love's sweet caress.

As I struggle with this heart I can't breach,
every once and again I feel a brief
ray of hope knowing she waits there for me.
Still I fear I'll never feel love's caress
for she wades through my dreams out of reach.

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I realize this rambling probably will make no sense to anyone but me, still....

The other day while in the car (go figure, that is where all my harebrained ideas come from) I got to thinking about the nota (an invented form...because I was bored and have a thing for repetition).  Something about it being fourteen lines nagged at me and I wondered if it would be possible to expand it.  With my driving-hazed mind, I could picture the potential for adding the two additional lines with their repeating in the middle stanza.  Of course, when it actually came to putting it together I realized the patterned for the initial two middle stanzas didn't lend itself well to the expansion.  It did not take me long to puzzle through the issue and uncover a solution.  The additional line in the first stanza (technically #3) could be repeated not twice, but three times and surrounded in the middle stanza by the rhyme from the center of the other two triplets.  On a side note it was just coincidental that the non-repeating line rhymes also rhymed with the middle line of the first/last stanza.  

For those who can follow the pattern is such (with letters denote ending rhyme, capitals denote repeating lines, numbers assist in identifying where line will repeat--minor variations on repeating lines allowed as long as the final word remains intact)...

A1-B1-E1-C1-A2 / B2-d-B1 / d-E1-d / C1-d-C2 / A2-B2-E1-C2-A1 

I decided not to throw off my original lettering, just added in the repeating line with E, which works well seeing as how this is an "expanded" nota.

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

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.