tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36810470598204499602024-03-02T11:41:20.804-05:00... don't open ... don't throw away ...this letting of words is my treatment...my salvation. it pulls all the toxins from my mind, body, and soul.RMPhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04054771419356465116noreply@blogger.comBlogger549125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3681047059820449960.post-90778800579727714622014-07-06T19:43:00.001-04:002017-09-10T19:33:06.453-04:00Another One Bites the Dust<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7sRoKn8TcamTjNbW8vXzO1J9gCuyahf82O0OI-JsOw71-bwY2_cHn5oT7nbp_Iv8pdkspWvivq_kDSjvr3kU0RI-_yBQ9elDk6l-p8roBiuKYjP2K0nPlpZI9mZfBNnLQITnglRHMJ9U/s1600/notebook+%232+end.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7sRoKn8TcamTjNbW8vXzO1J9gCuyahf82O0OI-JsOw71-bwY2_cHn5oT7nbp_Iv8pdkspWvivq_kDSjvr3kU0RI-_yBQ9elDk6l-p8roBiuKYjP2K0nPlpZI9mZfBNnLQITnglRHMJ9U/s1600/notebook+%232+end.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The End<br />07/06/2014<br />: P</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
On March 17, 2013, I made the decision to say goodbye (or sort of goodbye) to this site. I decided it was time to start anew. While I had been thinking about it for awhile, an unique event occurred; I finished my first notebook ever. I have always been entranced by notebooks...have more than I need...have even written in a few. This, however, was the first time I had managed to continually write and make it to the end. Shortly after, I began two new adventures...a <a href="http://rmpwritings.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">new blog</a> and a new notebook.<br />
<br />
Today (July 6, 2014), marks the second notebook that I will be retiring, having filled it quite well. It took me quite a bit longer to fill this notebook, but the important part is that I did finish it. I was amazed the first time this happened...astounded as I sit here staring at the last page of yet another ending. And so tomorrow (or the next day or the next) begins another journey with a new notebook. <br />
<br />
Anyway, I was so...for lack of a better word...impressed that I needed to write about. And where better to share the news than on the site that began it all. RMPhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04054771419356465116noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3681047059820449960.post-26072859191860097622014-03-20T17:47:00.000-04:002017-09-10T19:33:06.313-04:00Just Over a Year AgoI made the decision on March 17, 2013 to close the doors on this blog. It was not an easy decision, but I felt I was in a place where <span style="color: #a64d79;"><i>...don't open...don't throw away...</i></span> had filled it's purpose...like the notebook I <a href="http://dontopendontthrowaway.blogspot.com/2013/03/finished-notebook.html" target="_blank">finished</a> (the first I have ever filled from start to end) on March 13 of the same year. <br />
<br />
I did not go "cold-turkey;" instead, I threw up an occasional post (11 total) since making the decision. Nor have I stopped writing, though I have had moments of "quiet" since that I wasn't sure I'd make my way out of...but I did. On March 19, 2013, I started a new notebook; on March 21st, I started a new blog (<a href="http://rmpwritings.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"><i>Like the Feathers of an Arrow</i></a>). <br />
<br />
Since I have a thing for year reflections, I thought I'd return for a moment and...reflect.<br />
<br />
There are a couple of things that in closing this blog have been left unfinished. Number 1 on the list is <a href="http://dontopendontthrowaway.blogspot.com/p/male-hey.html" target="_blank"><i>With Just a Touch</i></a>, a story that started out quite unexpectedly...which in my head has had a conclusion for quite sometime prior to the last post for the piece. Then there is <a href="http://dontopendontthrowaway.blogspot.com/p/diary-of-anorexic-love-life.html" target="_blank"><i>Diary of an Anorexic Love Life</i></a>, which while I haven't quite given up on, I just haven't given much thought to.<br />
<br />
I also admit that my mood as of late makes me wonder if I was premature in thinking this space had filled its purpose. I miss my ramblings a bit. I manage them occasional on my new site, but not in the same fashion as they were used here. My "<a href="http://dontopendontthrowaway.blogspot.com/search/label/~Two%20Brain%20Theory" target="_blank">Two Brains</a>" continue to battle one another with me caught in the middle.<br />
<br />
hmm....I think that is enough reflection...while I think looking back on occasions is good for the soul, it is also important to look to the future and live in the moment. That being said....RMPhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04054771419356465116noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3681047059820449960.post-74920545003311244712014-01-27T15:44:00.000-05:002017-09-10T19:33:06.437-04:00teardrop (part 3)She is still the most hauntingly beautiful entity...<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiN3kZniG2Z3B2YBi6ck14c3OOYoIi5JofhvZBbdyl8wPU-zLPjUxqsAK6C3RsC1sVuNS2WqOjiMhxPoIEF5jAsUM_gSRvS83ba0ype__3Kw2p548eM4Et4thydxGQKBoHnFQIm_36Dj6g/s1600/Teardrop.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiN3kZniG2Z3B2YBi6ck14c3OOYoIi5JofhvZBbdyl8wPU-zLPjUxqsAK6C3RsC1sVuNS2WqOjiMhxPoIEF5jAsUM_gSRvS83ba0ype__3Kw2p548eM4Et4thydxGQKBoHnFQIm_36Dj6g/s1600/Teardrop.JPG" height="320" width="243" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">poster artwork entitled<br /> "Teardrop" by Paul Hogg</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
In my <a href="http://dontopendontthrowaway.blogspot.com/2011/11/teardrop-part-2.html">second post</a> on this poster that dons my wall and continually captures my eye, I stated, "before writing the post, i tried to do a little research to see if (a) i could find this poster somewhere still for sale or (b) find more by Paul Hogg. my attempts were fruitless." Well...<br />
<br />
a most interesting thing happened this past week. I received a comment on my <a href="http://dontopendontthrowaway.blogspot.com/2011/03/teardrop.html">first "teardrop" post</a> by none other than the artist. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQfJ4tik5AzBPCxhvGaLZBp9R4DbboiRlutMSwMJb3Ga3yuBb0vaBJV6CM63bbCMuR0Gkd2RTcHL0qpfc0Oumv5Z7CGljs4uMM2dmY9BcdgJGDcPAld1Mh2J3R4sQHt09vSdlnKzSyCcA/s1600/teardrop.dodta.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQfJ4tik5AzBPCxhvGaLZBp9R4DbboiRlutMSwMJb3Ga3yuBb0vaBJV6CM63bbCMuR0Gkd2RTcHL0qpfc0Oumv5Z7CGljs4uMM2dmY9BcdgJGDcPAld1Mh2J3R4sQHt09vSdlnKzSyCcA/s1600/teardrop.dodta.JPG" height="111" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
In addition, (after he managed to hunt down the original artwork) he reached out to me on Facebook.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHoWe5ydFs0bhki17UxL0JbMisWcY57pBh3gz9Tziprw1gPJcwW9qdW-ORLCsvjmK6szK736wrmEexfCOXDCmOGPbd96fODQqMDD0iVpKeB6bGq5dmJESKxU5IQIeVsQA4ascIqvUOoBo/s1600/teardrop.fb.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHoWe5ydFs0bhki17UxL0JbMisWcY57pBh3gz9Tziprw1gPJcwW9qdW-ORLCsvjmK6szK736wrmEexfCOXDCmOGPbd96fODQqMDD0iVpKeB6bGq5dmJESKxU5IQIeVsQA4ascIqvUOoBo/s1600/teardrop.fb.PNG" height="320" width="180" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
What have I learned? Well...the poster I located and posted in the "<a href="http://dontopendontthrowaway.blogspot.com/2011/11/teardrop-part-2.html">teardrop (part 2)</a>" was a follow up to this piece in response to the demand on the above pictured piece. So while not part of a series, as one earlier commenter mentioned, it did not stand completely alone. I also learned that Paul Hogg's work nowadays does different quite a bit from this piece (<a href="http://www.behance.net/Ultramarinedesign">http://www.behance.net/Ultramarinedesign</a>). <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
RMPhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04054771419356465116noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3681047059820449960.post-53997643511683289212013-06-14T22:29:00.000-04:002022-06-27T13:22:29.729-04:00Un-Spun CrazyLife's been crazy— <br />
<div>
each breath a luxury of late. </div>
<div>
Life's been crazy— </div>
<div>
<span style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">no time to write or be lazy.</span></div>
<div>
<span style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">I long to once again create— </span></div>
<div>
<span style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">spin words in hopes I might abate </span></div>
<div>
<span style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">all this crazy.</span></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<hr />
<br />
<br />
they're exploring rondelets over at <a href="http://dversepoets.com/2013/06/13/form-for-all-the-rondelet/">dVerse</a> today. it's been awhile since I last tested the waters of this form...really I just threw this together in a stolen moment of craziness (so those wondering will know I'm still alive)...hopefully it makes sense.</div>
RMPhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04054771419356465116noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3681047059820449960.post-49807349221771294982013-06-02T16:16:00.001-04:002022-06-27T13:22:29.670-04:00Glistening StreamsI breathe tears to life <br />
as though all of the oceans <br />
depend solely on me. <br />
<br />
<hr />
<br />
I've been trying to find my way outside of myself. The past week or two it's been rather hard. Sleep calls to me like a lover whose arms wish never to let me go. I long to escape into them, allow life to fade away around me, dissolve into a world of dreams where I can hold comfort in knowing nothing is real. Still I hold on to life with a death grip...an odd statement for sure. How much easier it would be to just let go? RMPhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04054771419356465116noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3681047059820449960.post-54223889402501819832013-05-28T11:00:00.000-04:002022-06-27T13:22:29.758-04:00Sevenling (To my angel) & Last Call (At the Sidewalk Cafe)<u>Sevenling (To my angel)</u> <br />
<br />
<i>To my angel (you know who you are), </i><br />
<div>
<i>Silence is golden, liberating & lonely; </i></div>
<div>
<i>the latter is the most haunting. </i></div>
<div>
<i> </i></div>
<div>
<i>To my angel (for whom silence seems a new word), </i></div>
<div>
<i>I was (am) content, satisfied, & appreciative </i></div>
<div>
<i>to hide in the rarity of reciprocal visits. </i></div>
<div>
<i><br /></i></div>
<div>
<i>My dear sweet angel, thank you for carrying my voice through the doors.</i><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<u>Last Call (At the Sidewalk Cafe) </u><br />
<br />
<i>anxiety spikes </i><br />
<i>(unusually so as of late) </i><br />
<i>each time Mr. Linky </i><br />
<i>steps up to introduce me. </i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>he looks at the note card in hand </i><br />
<i>announcing the next performer </i><br />
<i>and knowingly looks stage left. </i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>the last time these spells arose </i><br />
<i>I disappeared <span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;">–</span> left <span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;">–</span> went into hiding. </i><br />
<i>scarcely a word escaped </i><br />
<i>leaving only silence in my wake. </i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>upon return I waited for last call <span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;">–</span></i><br />
<i>closing time, when most had come & gone. </i><br />
<i>leaving only a few stragglers to see my frays. </i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>how brazen I got </i><br />
<i>as time passed and words flowed; </i><br />
<i>it's like a roller coaster though <span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 17px;">–</span> ups & downs <span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 17px;">–</span></i><br />
<i>but those drops lift me out of my seat. </i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>so here I sit now at the sidewalk cafe </i><br />
<i>listening to the voices spill out the doors & </i><br />
<i>tip my hat as they leave for the night. </i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>& I scribble away in my notebook </i><br />
<i>for no one else but me </i><br />
<i>and the occasional passerby </i><br />
<i>who sits down with a smile to share. </i><br />
<br /></div>
<hr />
<br />
<i><b><span style="color: #741b47;">another silent contribution....</span></b></i><br />
<i><b><span style="color: #741b47;"><br /></span></b></i>
<i><b><span style="color: #741b47;">they'll be opening up the doors over at the <a href="http://dversepoets.com/">dVerse Poets Pub</a> at 3:00 pm (EST), so if you get a chance to stop in, check out some wonderful talents showcasing their voices today and tomorrow.</span></b></i><br />
<i><b><span style="color: #741b47;"><br /></span></b></i>
<i><b><span style="color: #741b47;"><br /></span></b></i>RMPhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04054771419356465116noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3681047059820449960.post-71426881866413206832013-05-22T15:55:00.007-04:002022-06-27T13:22:30.365-04:00Dee - p - RestFrom out of the blue <br />
I feel them -- <br />
tears perched on eyelids. <br />
<br />
A quiet settles <br />
within; a<br />
hush before the storm. <br />
<br />
Each breath stratigi-<br />
cally placed <br />
to lesson the wrath. <br />
<br />
I long to crawl up<br />
-- disappear -- <br />
escape from myself. <br />
<br />
But the past has shown <br />
like a sinking ship <br />
I must ride it out. <br />
<br />
<hr />
<br />
<b><i><span style="color: #351c75;">the above is a series of <a href="http://dversepoets.com/2013/01/03/la-lune/">Kelly Lunes</a>, aside from the last stanza.</span></i></b><br />
<b><i><br /></i></b>
<b><i><span style="color: #741b47;">another silent contribution....</span></i></b><br />
<b><i><span style="color: #741b47;"><br /></span></i></b>
<b><i><span style="color: #741b47;">if you get a chance, there are some wonderful talents showcasing their voices today over at <a href="http://dversepoets.com/">dVerse Poets Pub</a> for <a href="http://dversepoets.com/2013/05/21/open-link-night-97/">OpenLinkNight</a>.</span></i></b><br />
<br />
<br />RMPhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04054771419356465116noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3681047059820449960.post-64548008406336744792013-04-30T19:49:00.001-04:002022-06-27T13:22:30.106-04:00Last Call: I See Myself in Black & WhiteIt's time to step out of the darkness; <br />
dust off this cloak of shadows; <br />
unfurl these dormant wings intent on flying. <br />
<br />
Too long I've been surrounded <br />
by brilliant colors unable <br />
to feel their sweet caress as <br />
they poke at me so eager <br />
to wrap me in their warmth, but <br />
they bounce off me like ping-pongs. <br />
<br />
It's time to step into the sunlight; <br />
enrobe myself in lustrous colors; <br />
awaken all that lies within me. <br />
<br />
<hr /><br />
<i><span style="color: #674ea7;"><b>An Aside</b>: As stated in my tagline for </span><span style="color: #a64d79;">...don't open...don't throw away...</span><span style="color: #674ea7;">, the purpose of this blog was/is to release the toxins that build up within me. Since the start of this year, I have been feeling as though I have become too buried in my own head; I needed to escape myself. I think that is one of the reasons I started a <a href="http://rmpwritings.blogspot.com/">new blog</a>. I think it was a smart move; </span></i><i><span style="color: #674ea7;">I've tapped into somethings that I might otherwise have not done. To be honest, </span></i><i><span style="color: #674ea7;">getting outside of myself has been quite liberating (and taxing). </span></i><br />
<i><span style="color: #674ea7;"><br />
</span></i><i><span style="color: #674ea7;">In making the decision, I was hesitant to completely shut things down here. I still have plenty of poisons seeping through my veins that need to be expelled. So, I decided to cut down here to posting for two events: <a href="http://dversepoets.com/">dVerse Poets Pub</a>'s OpenLinkNight and on the last Wednesday of the month for <a href="http://www.threewordwednesday.com/">Three Word Wednesday</a>. But an odd thing happened.... I missed a week. Then I typed up this piece and posted it with the intent of sharing last week. After about ten minutes of it sitting out there in cyberspace, I realized that I couldn't do it. So I took it down. That didn't stop me from visiting those brave souls who week after week step through the pub doors, but I couldn't bring myself to the stage. I think I have finally come to the conclusion that (at least for awhile) I'm tired of fighting my "stage fright." </span></i><br />
<i><span style="color: #674ea7;"><br />
</span></i><i><span style="color: #674ea7;">So while I will continue on the rare occasion to add my voice, for now I think I'll stick with just enjoying an amazing selection of poetry offered up by others.</span></i><br />
<i><span style="color: #674ea7;"><br />
</span></i><i><span style="color: #674ea7;">Anyway, I think I've rambled enough...</span></i><br />
<br />
<hr /><br />
<span style="color: #a64d79;"><i>This is my </i>silent <i>contribution to this week's </i><a href="http://dversepoets.com/" style="font-style: italic;">dVerse Poets Pub</a> <a href="http://dversepoets.com/2013/04/30/openlinknight-week-94/" style="font-style: italic;">OpenLinkNight</a><i>. If you get a chance, check out all of the </i><a href="http://www.blenza.com/linkies/links.php?owner=dversepoets&postid=28Apr2013" style="font-style: italic;">talented poets</a><i> who have stepped up into the spotlight.</i></span><i style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><span style="color: #a64d79;"><br />
</span></i>RMPhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04054771419356465116noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3681047059820449960.post-51433245359534386392013-04-24T22:09:00.001-04:002022-06-27T13:22:29.699-04:00CRAVE<div style="text-align: center;">
CRAVE </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
thirst for </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
intense need </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
putrid rotting flesh </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
shudders in pure delight </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
with the scent of fear soaked brains </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
"all consuming hunger attacks." </div>
<br />
<hr />
<br />
<span style="color: #674ea7;"><i>I went a little freaky with this clarity pyramid - <a href="http://www.threewordwednesday.com/2013/04/3ww-cccxxvi.html">Three Word Wednesday</a> [3WW=></i>crave, putrid, shudder(s)<i>] combo.</i></span>RMPhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04054771419356465116noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3681047059820449960.post-85040523080215411112013-04-09T18:10:00.001-04:002022-06-27T13:22:30.880-04:00Quieting the SilenceI'm grasping at straws<br />
as words slip<br />
unseen through fingers.<br />
<br />
I cannot sit here<br />
lined paper<br />
just laughing at me.<br />
<br />
I grab my pencil<br />
awaken<br />
the muse within me.<br />
<br />
Words finally pour<br />
drowning out<br />
the blank page's taunts.<br />
<br />
<hr />
<br />
<i><span style="color: #674ea7;">I thought it might be fun to toy a bit more with the lune -- more specifically the Kelly Lune. The last (and first) time I worked with both the Kelly lune and Collum lune, creating <a href="http://dontopendontthrowaway.blogspot.com/2013/01/loony-for-lunes.html">a pairing</a> on the same topic. With this go around I thought I'd try a string of lunes that (might) alone stand as independent poems, but linked to tell a story of sorts. </span></i><br />
<br />
<hr />
<br />
<i><span style="color: #a64d79;">This is my offerings for this week's <a href="http://dversepoets.com/">dVerse Poets Pub</a> <a href="http://dversepoets.com/2013/04/09/open-link-night-91/">OpenLinkNight</a>. If you get a chance, check out all of the <a href="http://www.blenza.com/linkies/links.php?owner=dversepoets&postid=08Apr2013">talented poets</a> who have stepped up into the spotlight.</span></i>RMPhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04054771419356465116noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3681047059820449960.post-59462560800713613372013-04-01T21:00:00.000-04:002022-06-27T13:22:29.907-04:00Last Call: What Will Become of Our Words?<iframe frameborder="no" height="166" scrolling="no" src="https://w.soundcloud.com/player/?url=http%3A%2F%2Fapi.soundcloud.com%2Ftracks%2F85935354&color=4b0b71&auto_play=false&show_artwork=true" width="100%"></iframe><br />
<br />
<hr />
<br />
<u>What Will Become of Our Words?</u><br />
<br />
The waiting is over, but<br />
what have we lost in the process?<br />
<br />
where are our word?<br />
<br />
when time meant something,<br />
our words abounded<br />
desperate to close the gap<br />
of space and time.<br />
<br />
(now) we converse in clips & phrases<br />
whittled down to an alpha-numeric code<br />
creating for the future an ancient dialect<br />
only a few will be skilled to translate.<br />
<br />
where are our words?<br />
our love?<br />
our passion?<br />
our essence?<br />
<br />
when distance made the heart grow fonder<br />
our words poured like rain<br />
down from the heavens<br />
nourishing and grounding our roots.<br />
<br />
(now) we connect with little connection<br />
our fingers caress sleek metallic bodies<br />
spreading words across a shrinking world<br />
as a chasm grows between us and those next to us.<br />
<br />
where are our words?<br />
<br />
(now) we catch glimpses of the past<br />
in faded tissue-thin tear-stained letters<br />
correspondences that lived and breathed<br />
with precious words -- words unfolded,<br />
read, caressed, smelled, smeared<br />
time and time again.<br />
<br />
someday our words will be unbound<br />
by a double-click, as pristine and<br />
untouched as the day they were sent;<br />
no stories hidden in their creases<br />
or the letters bled with tears,<br />
just words -- clips & phrases.<br />
<br />
where are our words?<br />
our beauty?<br />
our passion?<br />
our selves?<br />
<br />
when touch could be invoked<br />
with each physical-tangible<br />
unfolding word, distance and<br />
time meant nothing.<br />
<br />
(now) we communicate in zeros & ones<br />
relying on the single sense of sight<br />
where words alone must invoke<br />
more than they ever needed to before.<br />
<br />
where are our words?<br />
<br />
<hr />
<br />
<span style="color: #674ea7;"><i><b>An Aside</b>: I can't recall exactly when, but sometime ago I read a <a href="http://www.waystationone.com/2013/01/poetics-how-peaceful-silence-when.html">poem</a> by <a href="http://www.waystationone.com">Brian Miller</a>. While commenting, I pondered the following, "what will become of the letters that bleed with tears?" I tucked this little thought away in my notebook figuring eventually I would come back to it. Eventually I did, though not as I had expected; I wrote a short poem, </i><a href="http://rmpwritings.blogspot.com/2013/03/faded-memories-ribbon-bound-letters.html">Faded Memories (Ribbon-Bound Letters)</a><i>. It in no way shape or form held within it the original essence of my pondering. While still not 100% where I thought it might lead, this piece here definitely does a better job at capturing what I first felt.</i></span><br />
<span style="color: #674ea7;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="color: #674ea7;"><i><b>An (Aside) Aside</b>: I was originally going to make my pondering the title of this poem, but I don't know...it didn't quite feel right in the end.</i></span><br />
<br />
<hr />
<br />
<i><span style="color: #a64d79;">I'm ahead of schedule once again, but...this is my offerings for this week's <a href="http://dversepoets.com/">dVerse Poets Pub</a> OpenLinkNight. If you get a chance, check out all of the talented poets who have stepped up into the spotlight.</span></i>RMPhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04054771419356465116noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3681047059820449960.post-67746104148011061932013-03-27T16:37:00.002-04:002022-06-27T13:22:30.192-04:00SLIGHT<div style="text-align: center;">
SLIGHT</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
write off</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
disparage</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
his terse retort, "lame,"</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
spoke volumes on how well</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
he'd cooperate with us</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
"lack of respect drives in a wedge."</div>
<br />
<hr />
<br />
<span style="color: #674ea7;"><i>This was an interesting write. The middle came quite quickly using this week's <a href="http://www.threewordwednesday.com/2013/03/3ww-cccxxii.html">Three Word Wednesday</a> [3WW=></i>cooperate, lame, terse<i>] prompt. Normally it is a simultaneous struggle between the first and middle verse; they tend to go hand in hand. I get a general idea for the initial word (though it is subject to change) while pulling the middle and end together with the given words. For this one, the middle came so quickly I was at a complete loss for what the initial word and its followers should be. The last line is basically impossible to write with out the initial word. Maybe it is the way this poem unfolded that has me not quite content...ah...but then again, when am I ever content.</i></span><br />
<br />
<hr />
<br />
<i><span style="color: #a64d79;"><b>On a Side Note</b>: Recently I posted that I would be limiting my use of this blog. I feel it has fulfilled its purpose and that it is time for me to move on. Unfortunately, letting go is not all that easy...or maybe it is fortunate, because I will (at least for a time) be maintaining two things here: my weekly contributions to OpenLinkNight over at <a href="http://dversepoets.com/">dVerse</a> and my last Wednesday of the month "clarity pyramid meets 3WW" for <a href="http://www.threewordwednesday.com/">Three Word Wednesday</a>. I have just recently taken up residency <a href="http://rmpwritings.blogspot.com/">elsewhere</a> in case you care to <a href="http://rmpwritings.blogspot.com/">drop in</a>.</span></i>RMPhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04054771419356465116noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3681047059820449960.post-59603162116851604182013-03-25T18:39:00.000-04:002022-06-27T13:22:29.963-04:00Last Call: Tumor Vision<iframe frameborder="no" height="166" scrolling="no" src="https://w.soundcloud.com/player/?url=http%3A%2F%2Fapi.soundcloud.com%2Ftracks%2F84910438&color=501da8&auto_play=false&show_artwork=true" width="100%"></iframe><br />
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<hr />
<br />
<u>Tumor Vision</u><br />
<br />
Busy casino carpets should be just that,<br />
an array of visual designs intended to stir<br />
the bustling atmosphere <span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;">—</span> NOT<br />
a twisted version of Munch's "The Scream"<br />
head burning in hellish flames.<br />
<br />
I so long for the artist's hand<br />
to sketch out what only my eyes seem to see.<br />
<br />
Dark volcanic clouds should be just that,<br />
billowing plums of smoke and ash<br />
casting an ominous fear <span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;">—</span> NOT<br />
a demon awakening from a long slumber<br />
intent on destruction and death.<br />
<br />
I so long for the artist's hand<br />
to outline what only my eyes seem to see.<br />
<br />
Bird poop on a car window should be just that,<br />
a disgusting nuisance foretelling good luck<br />
that should be wiped away <span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;">—</span> NOT<br />
a mustached man wearing a bearskin hat<br />
standing guard at the window.<br />
<br />
<br />
I so long for the artist's hand;<br />
I itch to unearth these visions <span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 17px;">—</span> unseen,<br />
to breathe life into them with a skillful hand,<br />
in turn distilling the crazy notion<br />
that (a)<br />
I'm crazy and (b)<br />
there's a tumor<br />
pressing on my brain.<br />
<br />
Oh, how I long for the artist's hand.<br />
<br />
<hr />
<br />
<br />
Is it just me.... Or can you see what I see?<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRKFoNTtZTYR_FAyqxD7BIBNQ8FLRRcl95HB_V1LZ3pdPixySoYxdAqjCTNENWgNEdBPCK5IMzVXVPa9It0iaiQkVpS0RjT4N-OQxMSFU9gs-6ULj02Qle9OmYO_d236Eg6jFhZmfRjl0/s1600/burning.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRKFoNTtZTYR_FAyqxD7BIBNQ8FLRRcl95HB_V1LZ3pdPixySoYxdAqjCTNENWgNEdBPCK5IMzVXVPa9It0iaiQkVpS0RjT4N-OQxMSFU9gs-6ULj02Qle9OmYO_d236Eg6jFhZmfRjl0/s320/burning.JPG" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">For some reason most people I've asked see an owl.<br />
(image by rmp, that's me)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3K1LUopGuys6yH9fB9OzjF3FvSAFFpqMryp5HGfCVFCx9bAY271VRxtjcIEungYDNA4qqBWtAsqf94SFco-E6vjvaDtHD1fz6dZDjftrh_bO-b_aqyqOlja13YOu3_F6yjjEFxRx5XJI/s1600/volcano-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3K1LUopGuys6yH9fB9OzjF3FvSAFFpqMryp5HGfCVFCx9bAY271VRxtjcIEungYDNA4qqBWtAsqf94SFco-E6vjvaDtHD1fz6dZDjftrh_bO-b_aqyqOlja13YOu3_F6yjjEFxRx5XJI/s400/volcano-2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption">photo taken by Martin Rietze<br />
(<a href="http://www.mrietze.com/">http://www.mrietze.com/</a>)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZcUP0_XLub7yBwpwITwR1A83hDihDdM7y_dWw0724aSlP_02gB8U5wyUnPrS3L8CzVxS33PEI8pv82ZddgGjPmhSTjPxpM7OlPlQncJIuO6IJSNONWask2nkJ3xs6ftueq-kno3PL0ew/s1600/poop.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZcUP0_XLub7yBwpwITwR1A83hDihDdM7y_dWw0724aSlP_02gB8U5wyUnPrS3L8CzVxS33PEI8pv82ZddgGjPmhSTjPxpM7OlPlQncJIuO6IJSNONWask2nkJ3xs6ftueq-kno3PL0ew/s320/poop.JPG" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mustached Man in Bearskin Hat<br />
(image by rmp, that's me)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<hr />
<br />
<i><span style="color: #674ea7;"><b>An Aside</b>: Photo #2 also inspired a poem called, <a href="http://rmpwritings.blogspot.com/2013/03/volcanic-eruption.html">Volcanic Eruptions</a> (which can be found on <a href="http://rmpwritings.blogspot.com/">my new blog</a>). The post also includes a version of the image where I attempt to point out the demon in all of his glory.</span></i><br />
<br />
<hr />
<br />
<i><span style="color: #a64d79;">I'm ahead of schedule this week, but...this is my offerings for this week's <a href="http://dversepoets.com/">dVerse Poets Pub</a> OpenLinkNight. If you get a chance, check out all of the talented poets who have stepped up into the spotlight.</span></i>RMPhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04054771419356465116noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3681047059820449960.post-64363926807961549882013-03-19T15:23:00.001-04:002022-06-27T13:22:30.078-04:00Last Call: (Poet) On a Microscopic Level<iframe frameborder="no" height="166" scrolling="no" src="https://w.soundcloud.com/player/?url=http%3A%2F%2Fapi.soundcloud.com%2Ftracks%2F83986192&color=670b9d&auto_play=false&show_artwork=true" width="100%"></iframe><br />
<hr />
<br />
<u>(Poet) On a Microscopic Level</u><br />
<br />
I'm an open wound<br />
stitched together <span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;">– </span>painstakingly so <span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;">–</span><br />
word by word;<br />
each pull of the needle,<br />
a cross-stitchers heaven,<br />
delicately weaving a collage of colors,<br />
textures, fibers, patterns<br />
meant to hold me together.<br />
<br />
From a distance, I'm seamless,<br />
but if you could see inside my words...<br />
there you'd find the key <span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;">– </span>the secret <span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;">–</span><br />
to unraveling me.<br />
<br />
<hr />
<br />
<i><span style="color: #a64d79;">This is my offerings for this week's <a href="http://dversepoets.com/">dVerse Poets Pub</a> <a href="http://dversepoets.com/2013/03/19/openlinknight-week-88/">OpenLinkNight</a>. If you get a chance, check out all of the <a href="http://www.blenza.com/linkies/links.php?owner=dversepoets&postid=18Mar2013">talented poets</a> who have stepped up into the spotlight.</span></i>RMPhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04054771419356465116noreply@blogger.com18tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3681047059820449960.post-7193767053618366412013-03-17T23:29:00.000-04:002017-09-10T19:33:06.427-04:00Finished (Notebook)<i>This week a first has happened. I honestly did not think it was possible, but alas I was wrong. It has gotten me to thinking<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;">—</span>a dangerous act, indeed. Unfortunately when my brain kicks into gear like this it is often hard to follow its stream of thought. </i><br />
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<b>June 27, 2012</b> <span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 17px;">— </span>I opened up a new notebook and broke my drought. <br /><b>June 30, 2012</b> <span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 17px;">— </span>I reset <span style="color: #674ea7;"><b>...don't open...don't throw away...</b></span> and invented my themes to revitalize things.<br /><b>July 1, 2012</b> <span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 17px;">—</span> I posted my first <i>Time Capsule</i> and launched the first of three themes, which I've maintained up until today.<br /><b>January 9, 2013</b> <span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 17px;">—</span> I celebrated three years and thanks to my revival, I managed to turn my dry spell around from 12 to 118 posts during <b><span style="color: #674ea7;">...dodta...</span></b>'s third year. That's right, 12 posts in the first prior to July 1st and 106 after. <br /><b>January 9, 2013</b> <span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 17px;">—</span> I began to ponder whether <span style="color: #674ea7;"><b>...dodta...</b></span> had finally run it course. It was the first time I had actually thought about it without being in a emotional rut. But making such a decision is not something that can be made rashly. I put a lot of blood, sweat and tears here, to let it go with serious contemplation would be wrong.<br /><b>March 13, 2013</b> <span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 17px;">—</span> I wrote on the last page of my notebook. <br /><b>March 15, 2013</b> <span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 17px;">—</span> I actively searched for an empty(ish) page in order to write a piece for this past Friday's theme of <i>Can I Have This Dance?</i>. There are a handful of pages that have tidbits on them that never blossomed, but I'm thinking I'll add them to another notebook and look to them for inspiration when the juices seem to be running a bit dry. <br /><b>March 17, 2013</b> <span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 17px;">—</span> I officially have made two decisions. One...my notebook is being laid to rest and classified as full, finished, done, kaput.... Two...I am letting go of my themes and of <b><span style="color: #674ea7;">...don't open...don't throw away...</span></b></blockquote>
<br />
<i>So that last little note is a doozy. I am not leaving the blogging world, just moving on. I'm not sure exactly where I will land, but I think it is time. On the flip side, while technically I'm closing up shop, I've decided to keep the doors open for two things...</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>The first is what has been themed as Last Call, also known as my contributions to <a href="http://dversepoets.com/">dVerse Poets Pubs</a> OpenLinkNight. Partly because this is the face (mask) they know and partly because...well, I need an excuse not to truly say goodbye to <span style="color: #674ea7;"><b>...dodta....</b></span></i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>The second occurs on the last Wednesday of every month when <a href="http://www.threewordwednesday.com/">Three Word Wednesday</a> meets the clarity pyramid. Over the course of the three years, I have written 17 clarity pyramids. All but the first one was in conjunction with 3WW. All but the first two were written on the last Wednesday of the month. So, I will also maintain that post here as well. </i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Okay, maybe saying I'm letting go of <b><span style="color: #674ea7;">...don't open...don't throw away...</span></b> was a tad misleading. Still...(I guess I'm not really good at saying goodbye.)</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>For those of you who have drop in from time-to-time or on a regular basis, thanks for tuning in...</i><br />
RMPhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04054771419356465116noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3681047059820449960.post-62679514595918469712013-03-15T20:55:00.001-04:002022-06-27T13:22:30.051-04:00CIHTD?: Traffic Light ("It's over!")<b>Title</b>: <a href="http://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/davidnail/redlight.html"><i>Red Light</i></a><br />
<b>Artist</b>: David Nail<br />
<b>Album</b>: I'm About to Come Alive<br />
<b>Genre</b>: Country<br />
<br />
<b>Notes</b>: I mentioned in my last post I wanted to write about traffic lights.... So I went out and found a song that had a traffic light in it to lend inspiration for this week's CIHTD?. <br />
<br />
<b>A Form Aside</b>: Over at <a href="http://dversepoets.com/">dVerse Poets Pub</a> they have introduced a short little number called the <a href="http://dversepoets.com/2013/03/14/form-for-all-the-cinquain/">cinquain</a>. I thought I'd give it a whirl. I'm not the only one...so if you get a chance, check out some of the <a href="http://www.blenza.com/linkies/links.php?owner=dversepoets&postid=11Mar2013">talents</a> that chose to walk through the pub doors for this event.<br />
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<b><span style="color: #674ea7;"><u><i>Traffic Light </i>("It's Over")</u></span></b></blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<b><span style="color: #674ea7;"><i>stopped dead<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;">—</span><br />blood drains with words<br />no lies<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 17px;">—</span>no fight<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 17px;">—</span>just words<br />crashing down. light turns green; still I<br />can't move.</i></span></b></blockquote>
<br />
<br />RMPhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04054771419356465116noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3681047059820449960.post-63208104586575509392013-03-13T16:22:00.000-04:002018-04-03T21:13:50.554-04:00Last Call: Crumbling Within<u>Crumbling Within</u><br />
<br />
Just the thought of a hug<br />
stirs an emotional rock slide<br />
threatening to unravel<br />
the carefully woven shield<br />
surrounding the loss<br />
yet to be dealt with.<br />
<br />
It's a mistake<br />
keeping it buried within<br />
but the only remedy<br />
that ever worked to clear<br />
away the looming boulders<br />
was the feel of your arms<br />
wrapped around me.<br />
<br />
<hr />
<br />
<b><span style="color: #674ea7;"><i>I was hoping to try to escape myself for a little bit, try to find something outside of me to write about...something random like traffic lights. But this week's </i><a href="http://www.threewordwednesday.com/" style="font-style: italic;">Three Word Wednesday</a><i> [3WW=></i>careful(ly), hug, mistake<i>] seemed to have something else in mind. Odd though, because I look at the words (even read them aloud several dozen times) and I do feel disconnected. Maybe that is more about the emotions rolling around than the actual poem, but at the moment I'll be truthful and say I don't much care for this piece...maybe time will change that...</i></span></b><br />
<br />
<hr />
<br />
<i><span style="color: #a64d79;">I've decided to double up this week and so ...<br /><br />This is my offerings for this week's <a href="http://dversepoets.com/">dVerse Poets Pub</a> <a href="http://dversepoets.com/2013/03/12/openlinknight-week-87/">OpenLinkNight</a>. If you get a chance, check out all of the <a href="http://www.blenza.com/linkies/links.php?owner=dversepoets&postid=11Mar2013a">talented poets</a> who have stepped up into the spotlight.</span></i>RMPhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04054771419356465116noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3681047059820449960.post-56054182736034070222013-03-11T12:00:00.000-04:002022-06-27T13:22:29.847-04:00Silent Suffering<iframe frameborder="no" height="166" scrolling="no" src="https://w.soundcloud.com/player/?url=http%3A%2F%2Fapi.soundcloud.com%2Ftracks%2F82677837&color=6b0a92&auto_play=false&show_artwork=true" width="100%"></iframe><br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<hr />
</div>
<div>
<br />
<u>Silent Suffering</u></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Do mimes ever escape the box they've made?</div>
<div>
<div>
<div>
The invisible wall built around me</div>
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closes in with every passing moment</div>
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I wait for it to collapse -- folding in</div>
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on me 'til it becomes skin I can shed.</div>
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<br /></div>
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I wait for someone's touch to set me free,</div>
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but how can they possibly get so near</div>
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with this invisible wall around me.</div>
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<br /></div>
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I try to hold on as paralyzing fear</div>
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closes in with every passing moment</div>
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my heart races, my breath catches. It's clear</div>
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<br /></div>
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I wait for it all to just collapse in -- </div>
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torn between the idea I'll disappear</div>
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and the chance I might awaken within.</div>
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<br /></div>
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I scratch at skin that refuses to shed</div>
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waiting for the touch that will set me free</div>
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but hope dwindles with each passing moment</div>
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that the real me might awaken within.</div>
<div>
Do mimes ever escape the box they've made?</div>
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RMPhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04054771419356465116noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3681047059820449960.post-52437966431486329422013-03-10T12:31:00.000-04:002017-09-10T19:34:41.939-04:00Time Capsule: To Know Love<b>Title</b>: To Know Love<br />
<b>Date</b>: unknown (though if I dig a bit, I can probably come up with an estimate)<br />
<b>Setting</b>: Life after college--during second post-college job<br />
<b>Form</b>: Free form<br />
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<b>Notes</b>: Over the past years, starting back in 2002, I have written three poems for friends and/or family as they were on the verge of getting married. I have posted the first two (A Wedding Song--a poem for two voices and In the Eyes of a Friend) already here. This was the third poem, written for my best friend--the one in my last post that brighten my day with images and videos of her two little ones. Anyway, without further ado...<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpNfF7DlaUC302kDCvZeEolyPKHx1IGjMgJ9DNKAT5LLimL-FRQ-UlLMN3OkpBknCt1J9ydFziaRw8n9PA41UMPelOqpTldDlERhDp8vEMyq5SMURy9Z5EFXUKOWBo6eETpMWF-4GYKVY/s1600/toknowlove.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpNfF7DlaUC302kDCvZeEolyPKHx1IGjMgJ9DNKAT5LLimL-FRQ-UlLMN3OkpBknCt1J9ydFziaRw8n9PA41UMPelOqpTldDlERhDp8vEMyq5SMURy9Z5EFXUKOWBo6eETpMWF-4GYKVY/s640/toknowlove.jpg" width="225" /></a></div>
<br />RMPhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04054771419356465116noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3681047059820449960.post-80593862947594512582013-03-08T22:45:00.002-05:002022-06-27T13:22:30.825-04:00CIHTD?: A little sunshine...<b>Title</b>: <a href="http://www.dltk-holidays.com/summer/mmrsun.htm">Oh, Mr. Sun</a><br />
<b>Artist</b>: unknown<br />
<b>Album</b>: unknown<br />
<b>Genre</b>: Children's<br />
<br />
<b>Notes</b>: It's been a trying couple of weeks; so much so that even my typical tricks of music and breathing. When things get this bad, I have another little source of pleasure. I texted my friend and told her I could really use a picture or video. She sent me a picture of her little one with a cucumber for lips. A few seconds later, I texted her again asking where the older one (my goddaughter). As I was doing so, she was recording a video with my goddaughter singing Oh, Mr. Sun at the top of her lungs. I watched it multiple times and slowly (for me) the sun did begin to shine. I have a feeling that I'll be playing that video several more times before the end of this month. Hopefully April showers will help to wash away some the craziness pressing down on me.<br />
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<br />RMPhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04054771419356465116noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3681047059820449960.post-6370213175975453192013-03-05T19:54:00.004-05:002022-06-27T13:22:28.450-04:00Last Call: Methods to Soothe Raging Emotions: Seething & Breathing<iframe frameborder="no" height="166" scrolling="no" src="https://w.soundcloud.com/player/?url=http%3A%2F%2Fapi.soundcloud.com%2Ftracks%2F81986265&color=6d17a0&auto_play=false&show_artwork=true" width="100%"></iframe><br />
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<u>Methods to Soothe Raging Emotions: Seething & Breathing</u><br />
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I'm still alive, but I'm barely breathing;<br />
I've been practicing slow intakes all week—<br />
In----n---Out In----n---Out is of no help.<br />
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Still I search for that equilibrium</div>
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to still the emotions that are seething.</div>
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<br /></div>
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I am beginning to feel like a freak—</div>
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a statue shutting out the world around</div>
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as I've practiced slowly breathing all week,</div>
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<br /></div>
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but the world just pushes back pound by pound;</div>
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so each breath In----n---Out is of no help.</div>
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I find it impossible to rebound;</div>
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<br /></div>
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still I search for that equilibrium,</div>
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itching to stand once more on solid ground.</div>
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I long to wake from this delirium—</div>
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<br /></div>
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to still the emotions that are seething.</div>
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I'm beginning to feel like a freak</div>
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with each breath In----n---Out. I just can't help</div>
<div>
loosing myself to this delirium.</div>
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I'm still alive, but I'm barely breathing.</div>
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<br /></div>
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<hr />
</div>
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<i><span style="color: #674ea7;">My mind is racing with so many thoughts and amazingly they seem to all be focused on this piece—so maybe breathing wasn't the answer and writing was...</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="color: #674ea7;"><br /></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="color: #674ea7;">#1 — The first line of this poem is from a song. From the moment I heard the song, I was addicted to this line far beyond the confines of the song. It held its own meaning for me that had absolutely nothing to do with the lyrics themselves. Still the song itself has also inspired two poems (<a href="http://dontopendontthrowaway.blogspot.com/2012/10/can-i-have-this-dance-uneven.html">Uneven </a>and—without realizing I did this—<a href="http://dontopendontthrowaway.blogspot.com/2012/10/can-i-have-this-dance-uneven_24.html">Uneven</a>) that have made their way here through my Friday's theme, Can I Have This Dance?. [FYI: The song is <a href="http://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/script/breakeven.html">Breakeven (Falling to Pieces) by The Script</a>.]</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="color: #674ea7;"><br /></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="color: #674ea7;">#2 — When I went in search of the title for this piece I got caught on the words seething and emotions. This led me to think of a series I've developed here (which I recently <a href="http://dontopendontthrowaway.blogspot.com/2013/02/cihtd-methods.html">rehashed</a> on a Sunday for my theme Time Capsule). Though the series is called Methods to Soothe Raging Emotions, I could hear word seething stealing the place of raging. Even though the majority of the series has focused on music, it took little for me to decide it would be a good addition because the <a href="http://dontopendontthrowaway.blogspot.com/2010/09/methods-to-soothe-raging-emotions.html">original poem</a> also speaks toward breathing. </span></i></div>
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<i><span style="color: #674ea7;"><br /></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="color: #674ea7;">#3 — This is my fourth exploration in expanding my original form of <a href="http://dontopendontthrowaway.blogspot.com/p/nota.html">nota</a>. While I still like the original version, there is something about this "expanded" version that feels like a better entity. </span></i><br />
<i><span style="color: #674ea7;"><br /></span></i>
<span style="color: #674ea7;"><i><b>An Aside</b>: I am going to admit for those of you who choose to listen to this piece that I have a very bad habit of recording and not listening back to the recording. (I don't particularly care much for the sound of my voice.) So if there are any anomalies, you'll know why I posted it with them in it...</i></span></div>
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<i><span style="color: #a64d79;"><br /></span></i>
<i><span style="color: #a64d79;">This is my offerings for this week's <a href="http://dversepoets.com/">dVerse Poets Pub</a> <a href="http://dversepoets.com/2013/03/05/openlinknight-week-86/">OpenLinkNight</a>. If you get a chance, check out all of the <a href="http://www.blenza.com/linkies/links.php?owner=dversepoets&postid=05Mar2013">talented poets</a> who have stepped up into the spotlight.</span></i>RMPhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04054771419356465116noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3681047059820449960.post-59073538216028627662013-03-03T20:50:00.004-05:002017-09-10T19:30:04.186-04:00Time Capsule: untitledTitle: untitled<br />
Date: unknown<br />
Setting: unknown<br />
Form: Found Poetry (made from magazine clippings)<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEic0-qVjrjS7khIlc6ufTnnpPD8BHdI-ntNZKS0MJ6vSbGStUucIikW08Sz3RbzjoUiuHb3S_uUpTUMWAU9Pa3ikIdoWlvh9Juy74vND-b2SiuZ3VVX6jJHEdYMHDvRphK5A_ZFVDcLNcQ/s1600/clippings.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEic0-qVjrjS7khIlc6ufTnnpPD8BHdI-ntNZKS0MJ6vSbGStUucIikW08Sz3RbzjoUiuHb3S_uUpTUMWAU9Pa3ikIdoWlvh9Juy74vND-b2SiuZ3VVX6jJHEdYMHDvRphK5A_ZFVDcLNcQ/s400/clippings.jpg" width="366" /></a></div>
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Note: For posting purposes, I modified the original. The "E" in "awhile" was black on brown making it hard to see when transferred over digitally. So I filled the "E" with white to make it visible.RMPhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04054771419356465116noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3681047059820449960.post-64810589904098983532013-03-01T23:53:00.000-05:002022-06-27T13:22:30.136-04:00CIHTD?: SilenceThe music is silent today...RMPhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04054771419356465116noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3681047059820449960.post-24706352976075102232013-02-27T15:58:00.000-05:002022-06-27T13:22:28.872-04:00Last Call: PURGE<div style="text-align: center;">
PURGE</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
erase</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
get rid of</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
a pale face flickers</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
as naughty pictures doused</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
blaze--a relationship ends</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
"burn away lingering evils."</div>
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<span style="color: #674ea7;"><i>It is the last Wednesday of the month and with that comes another union of <a href="http://www.threewordwednesday.com/2013/02/3ww-cccxviii.html">Three Word Wednesday</a> [3WW=></i>douse, naughty, pale<i>] and the clarity pyramid. I'm not too fond of homophones. I had something in my mind until I realized that it was pale and not pail. I had to do some rearranging; I'm not 100% happy with the results, but...</i></span><br />
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<i><span style="color: #a64d79;">I've decided to double up this week and so ...<br /><br />This is my offerings for this week's <a href="http://dversepoets.com/">dVerse Poets Pub</a> <a href="http://dversepoets.com/2013/02/26/open-link-night-85/">OpenLinkNight</a>. If you get a chance, check out all of the <a href="http://www.blenza.com/linkies/links.php?owner=dversepoets&postid=25Feb2013">talented poets</a> who have stepped up into the spotlight.</span></i>RMPhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04054771419356465116noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3681047059820449960.post-70502588167573431582013-02-24T18:27:00.000-05:002017-09-10T19:34:41.990-04:00Time Capsule: Intoxication<b>Title</b>: Intoxication<br />
<b>Date</b>: 07/29/01<br />
<b>Setting</b>: Life after college--summer between first and second post-college job<br />
<b>Form</b>: Free verse<br />
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<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="color: #674ea7;"><i><b>As I opened the drawer<br />To put away my clothes<br />I found your shirt<br />folded neatly among my own<br />I paused<br />and sat back on my legs<br />I stretched out my hand<br />touching the fabric<br />suddenly I felt you near<br />I drew the shirt from its spot<br />held it up to my face<br />and I could feel your touch<br />gently brushing my cheek<br />breathing deeply in<br />I could taste<br />your soft sweet kiss<br />Clinging to your shirt tightly<br />I stood<br />Slowly with my eyes shut<br />so I might hold onto your image<br />I slipped out of my clothes<br />and into your shirt<br />I longed to feel you<br />against my bare skin<br />I spent the day cuddled<br />in your shirt<br />When night fell<br />I crawled into bed<br />still wrapped in your shirt<br />just so that I might<br />wake up next to you<br />And as I lay there<br />ready to drift off<br />I felt extraordinary<br />and amazing<br />And I knew<br />I was intoxicated<br />by you</b></i></span></blockquote>
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<b>Artifact I</b>: Original piece written in green pencil.</div>
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RMPhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04054771419356465116noreply@blogger.com3