Tuesday, October 18, 2011
9 Fun House Mirrors
Fun House Mirrors
no one sees me
tin-foiled windows reflect
expected visions
while I cower deep within
terrified I might catch a glimpse
of my true self
distorted
by my makeshift mirrors
originally this was intended as a tanka tweet...the first two lines (ending with protect instead of reflect) popped into my head the other night, but i could not seem to pull my thoughts together. upon revisiting my words and their intentions, it grew well beyond what i had anticipated...far beyond 140 characters and the five-lined 31-syllable tanka.
so tonight...amazingly enough on Tuesday...i present my humble offerings for OpenLinkNight over at dVerse~Poets Pub.
Wednesday, October 12, 2011
8 These Walls
my original goal was to get this up yesterday, but i had issues at home with the audio program i use...but quite honestly i'll be happy if i don't end up as the closing act at OpenLinkNight for the third week in a row. (i wonder what it must feel like to be first...or in the top ten for that matter.)
anyway...yesterday, in my attempt to make it through the dVerse~Poets Pub doors on Tuesday instead of Wednesday, i found myself revisiting six lines that had been sitting patiently waiting to burst (into song). i'm not really sure if the lines that ended up coming to life fit the sound of the first six nor if it (in its entirety) fully says what--in the back of my mind--i wished. still i have decided to throw it out there...let it sink in a bit...and if need be alter later should the need arise.
on a side note: while i am slowly becoming more accepting of my recorded spoken voice, i'm still not particularly fond (and that's putting it lightly) of my recorded singing voice...so do beware...
These Walls
I been lost for long long time
caught between myself and the daily grind
I been waiting on something to take me away
instead of looking in mirror at my own face
now the time has come for me to take control
and finally feel a love I've never known
I'm gonna break these walls I built around me
sing my praise 'til I believe in me
I'm gonna dance beneath the moonlight naked
tear at this disguise so I can see the real me
I can feel her deep inside of me
this woman fighting to break free
I can hear her pleas and rattling chains
all I need do is call her name
the time has come for me to let go
release myself from all I have known
I'm gonna break these walls I built around me
sing my praise 'til I believe in me
I'm gonna dance beneath the moonlight naked
tear at this disguise so I can see the real me
anyway...yesterday, in my attempt to make it through the dVerse~Poets Pub doors on Tuesday instead of Wednesday, i found myself revisiting six lines that had been sitting patiently waiting to burst (into song). i'm not really sure if the lines that ended up coming to life fit the sound of the first six nor if it (in its entirety) fully says what--in the back of my mind--i wished. still i have decided to throw it out there...let it sink in a bit...and if need be alter later should the need arise.
on a side note: while i am slowly becoming more accepting of my recorded spoken voice, i'm still not particularly fond (and that's putting it lightly) of my recorded singing voice...so do beware...
These Walls
I been lost for long long time
caught between myself and the daily grind
I been waiting on something to take me away
instead of looking in mirror at my own face
now the time has come for me to take control
and finally feel a love I've never known
I'm gonna break these walls I built around me
sing my praise 'til I believe in me
I'm gonna dance beneath the moonlight naked
tear at this disguise so I can see the real me
I can feel her deep inside of me
this woman fighting to break free
I can hear her pleas and rattling chains
all I need do is call her name
the time has come for me to let go
release myself from all I have known
I'm gonna break these walls I built around me
sing my praise 'til I believe in me
I'm gonna dance beneath the moonlight naked
tear at this disguise so I can see the real me
Wednesday, October 5, 2011
5 ... don't open ... don't throw away ...
... don't open ... don't throw away ...
Don’t open this and get sucked in.
I’ve built a crazy world here in,
where I can let my fears fly free,
walk beside the pain binding me,
and rain my tear-filled thoughts down into an abyss.
Here is no place to go. I beg don’t open this.
I loose myself so easily
in words which pour like rain from me
Here I can once again feel whole
and breathe life back into my soul
instead of bottling it up upon a shelf.
I find a slice of peace here where I loose myself.
Please understand, while I wish you
could see inside and stroll on through,
this world, here, is my safety net--
a safe emotional outlet
one I believe is far too fragile to withstand
your judging eyes finding fault. Oh, please understand
don’t throw away all that I am
by tossing me aside like spam.
I fear that most of all you'll see,
there is so much lacking in me.
So if you should choose to enter my world anyway,
let my words seep into you; don’t throw (them) away.
inspiration has been unkind as of late...which may be one of the reason i tend to find myself walking through the dVerse~Poets Pub doors just before last call. tonight, for OpenLinkNight, i decided that if i were going to find inspiration i'd have to resort to exploring a form (new or old didn't really matter). so, i decided to give the wrapped refrain another go. twice before i have tried this form and interestingly enough each time used "don't" to start off the first stanza. of course, looking back at those two poems both beginning as such probably inspired me to use the title of my blog as the concept behind the poem. note: i do admit, that i did take some liberties in the last line by adding the word "them" to the end as appose to strictly following form, but i found it kind of tough to end with "don't throw away."
Friday, September 30, 2011
1 Weapons of Choice
a writer of prose
gathers his words around him like an arsenal
strategically placing all about
surrounded you with intense imagery
striking the senses from the outside in
intent on bringing you into the scene of events
like an opponent who works to anticipate offenses
making meaning in order to walk away from the battle
better for being a part of it
a writer of poetry
chooses his words like the feathers an arrow
strategically creating the perfect balance
allowing it to pierce the air with ease
striking you straight through the heart
the mind
the soul
the poisoned tip assaulting you from the inside out
like an enemy coursing through your blood stream
penetrating your defenses before you know what hit you
no matter the weapon the writer chooses
should his aim be true
he'll bring you to your knees
breathless
with the beauty he ignites
or
the darkness he inflicts
dVerse~Poets Pub presents Meeting the Bar: Critique and Craft this evening. in doing so, they have asked us to write about poetry. i wasn't sure i was going to join in the fun, but while driving home (as is often where my brain kicks into gear) my brain began to travel back to this pondering of poetry. i'm not particularly fond of writing poetry while driving...trying to remember the way the words fit so perfectly in your head when finally being able to sit with pencil and paper or fingers and keyboard is not the easiest of things to do. i lost the word ignite (used in the third to last line) for quite some time while driving along. eventually it popped back into my head at which point i had to repeat it over and over again in my head with 'inflict' so i'd remember them when i finally made it home. anyway, time is running out so i best be on my way to the pub before they make last call.
gathers his words around him like an arsenal
strategically placing all about
surrounded you with intense imagery
striking the senses from the outside in
intent on bringing you into the scene of events
like an opponent who works to anticipate offenses
making meaning in order to walk away from the battle
better for being a part of it
a writer of poetry
chooses his words like the feathers an arrow
strategically creating the perfect balance
allowing it to pierce the air with ease
striking you straight through the heart
the mind
the soul
the poisoned tip assaulting you from the inside out
like an enemy coursing through your blood stream
penetrating your defenses before you know what hit you
no matter the weapon the writer chooses
should his aim be true
he'll bring you to your knees
breathless
with the beauty he ignites
or
the darkness he inflicts
dVerse~Poets Pub presents Meeting the Bar: Critique and Craft this evening. in doing so, they have asked us to write about poetry. i wasn't sure i was going to join in the fun, but while driving home (as is often where my brain kicks into gear) my brain began to travel back to this pondering of poetry. i'm not particularly fond of writing poetry while driving...trying to remember the way the words fit so perfectly in your head when finally being able to sit with pencil and paper or fingers and keyboard is not the easiest of things to do. i lost the word ignite (used in the third to last line) for quite some time while driving along. eventually it popped back into my head at which point i had to repeat it over and over again in my head with 'inflict' so i'd remember them when i finally made it home. anyway, time is running out so i best be on my way to the pub before they make last call.
Wednesday, September 28, 2011
3 Navigating Life
Navigating Life
It's amazing how easy it is
to get lost on autopilot;
walking through life half-asleep;
eyes open before the alarm rings,
yet not really open.
Time passes in the blink of an eye
and we don't even blink.
How did things get like this?
an internal GPS controlling every turn;
recalculating the best route
with every obstacle life throws across the path.
Time flies by without a care in the world
and we don't even seem to care.
It's amazing how easy it is
to get caught in the daily flow;
mindlessly making decisions;
forgetting who we are
and the destination we had planned.
my humble offerings to dVerse~Poets Pub's OpenLinkNight...where poets come to share, listen, inspire, and drink in the spirit of poetry....
Wednesday, September 21, 2011
4 Worth
Worth
how long will I wait for someone
to show me my worth
before I except the truth
what is the truth?
I know the right answer.
Who says?
Who says you're not perfect?
Who says you're not worth it?
I says
that's who!
I know my worth,
yet still I wait for someone.
I can stare in the mirror
for hours on end
and still I wait for someone
to tell me I am beautiful.
Who says you're not pretty?
Who says you're not beautiful?
Who says?
No one says
not a word either way.
I know it is what I see
what I believe
that is the truth,
but when silence haunts
the words I long to hear
seeing
believing
is not so easy.
when the time finally comes
to except the truth
what evidence will I have
to see I'm worth it
to believe I'm beautiful.
First, this has been such a crazy week that i almost contemplated skipping this weeks stop at the dVerse~Poets Pub for OpenLinkNight. Second, i was quite lost on what to write about. So in a last ditch attempt not to miss this week, i checked out my most recent pom seed post (Batch #7) and found the first three lines of this poem tucked in one of my recent ramblings. Strangely in the back of my head was the Selena Gomez song Who Says...it seemed quite fitting.
Side note: I really need to work on this last minute business. I seem to be making it in just before closing the last several times.
Side-Side note: For those brave enough to listen to the recording, please pardon my singing.
Sunday, September 18, 2011
4 The Sound of the Train
Boarding Warning: If you like trains or are in the mood for a nice trip down the rails, i'd suggest stepping back on the platform and waiting for the next train.
when dVerse~Poets Pub presented the topic of trains for Poetics, my brain could not seem to steer clear of this memory...the prompt was probably meant showcase the beauty of trains, so please forgive me for boarding this train of thought...
The Sound of the Train
the night I got the call
a train of tears made a beeline for my cheeks
I recall uncertainty
as facts were still pulling in
a gleam of hope jumped the rails
as I leapt off at doubt station
he was a freight train
navigating the corridors
his destination not where he wished to be
he wore those headphones like a conductors hat
when they were on it was full steam ahead
mind the crossing arms and the flashing lights
still there was something quite valuable in the load he carried
if the right switch was thrown
Occasionally when the long day was done
he'd find his pull into my classroom
Through the years I have found
it is not just the goody two-shoe who steal your heart
but the troublesome ones that most brush off
the ones who put up blinders and plow on thru
those are the connections I love to make
where the tracks ahead of looked long, yet bumpy
With the light of day came the cold hard truth
and once again the tears began to run
on the tracks that ran through the center of town
those he walked his whole young life
the music he used to escape this world
as loud as always
had drowned out the sound of the train
when dVerse~Poets Pub presented the topic of trains for Poetics, my brain could not seem to steer clear of this memory...the prompt was probably meant showcase the beauty of trains, so please forgive me for boarding this train of thought...
The Sound of the Train
the night I got the call
a train of tears made a beeline for my cheeks
I recall uncertainty
as facts were still pulling in
a gleam of hope jumped the rails
as I leapt off at doubt station
he was a freight train
navigating the corridors
his destination not where he wished to be
he wore those headphones like a conductors hat
when they were on it was full steam ahead
mind the crossing arms and the flashing lights
still there was something quite valuable in the load he carried
if the right switch was thrown
Occasionally when the long day was done
he'd find his pull into my classroom
Through the years I have found
it is not just the goody two-shoe who steal your heart
but the troublesome ones that most brush off
the ones who put up blinders and plow on thru
those are the connections I love to make
where the tracks ahead of looked long, yet bumpy
With the light of day came the cold hard truth
and once again the tears began to run
on the tracks that ran through the center of town
those he walked his whole young life
the music he used to escape this world
as loud as always
had drowned out the sound of the train
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