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.

Thursday, December 23, 2010

0 sketches

...continuation of drawings...

He stood staring into the window.  His eyes sought the object of his obsession.  Obsession was the only word he could use to describe the emotions that tormented him.  He had purposely avoided the cafe for the past two weeks.  Somehow he had figured that if he didn't see her, she would slowly but surely disappear from him mind. It had not worked.  Her image was engraved upon his brain.  Every time he picked up a pencil or pen he found himself sketching her from memory.  Charcoals seemed to me his favorite medium as of late.  For the life of him, he could not understand how someone could weasel their way so easily into his heart.  He looked at her, sitting surrounded as always by stacks of papers.  He wanted to deny that his heart was involved, but the tightening in his chest told him his heart was completely taken by her.  The first time he saw her, she had stolen his breath.  Even the way she seemed so oblivious to the world around her brought a smile to his lips.  He wanted so badly to shake her out of her trance and open her eyes to the world around her.  Instead, he sat there silently and sketched.  Somehow he just couldn't seem to capture her just right.  Several times he had tried to catch her attention, but he had failed miserably save that one day.  He had asked to borrow a chair.  And finally, she pulled her gaze away from her work and looked at him.  If he hadn't noticed the tug at his heart strings before, that moment he found himself completely rapt.  But all she did was nod.  She didn't say a word.  He probably would have stopped coming at that point, however, he felt drawn.  He spent another two weeks just sitting there hoping that maybe what he had seen her eyes in that moment was a twinkle of what he felt.  After watching her for those weeks continue to work as though that connection had not occurred was more than he could handle.  The only way he thought he might be able to let go of her was to walk away and clear his mind of her image.  But she had continued to haunt him.  Each day for the past two weeks her image plagued him.  Where before he might only see her image floating before him once or twice, he was now constantly picturing her.  He gazed at her through the window, watched her work, and wondered if she had even noticed he was gone.  The ache in his heart at the thought that he might never know hurt more than he cared to admit.  He looked down at his feet and contemplated what he should do.  Move on, was what is brain was telling him.  One more look, was what his heart was asking for.  He looked up once more.  He didn't need to memorize the moment or the way she looked because he lived and breathed it every second of everyday.  With a sigh he began to turn his gaze away from the window.  Out of the corner of his eye he saw her look up.  He turned back to find her looking directly at him.  The left corner of her mouth lifted into a half smile.  Her eyes seemed to soften.  She leaned down, never once breaking eye contact and withdrew a piece of paper from her bag.  He watched her eyebrows raise in a questioning manner as she turned the paper toward him.  There staring back at him was the last sketch he had made of her before his hiatus from the cafe.  It had been a decent sketch, but compared to her it had been pitiful.  So, like most of his cafe sketches of her it had ended up in the trash.  How she had come to possess it was beyond him.  But he had every intention of finding out.

Wednesday, December 22, 2010

5 I fear for my heart

I fear that...
my heart cannot withstand the pain...
my heart is too weak to survive...
will you hold it close to your own?
is that too much to hope for?
should I prepare for the hurt?

I fear that ...
my heart is too fragile...
my heart does not think rationally...
will you handle it with care?
am I expecting too much?
should I wrap it with bubble wrap?

I fear that...
my heart gives more than it has...
my heart break into a million pieces...
will return its affection as strongly?
can I believe in you?
should I walk away know before it's too late?

I fear that my heart...
will never recover from you...
that my heart will forever be lost to you.

i'm not really sure what it is i fear here.  is it loosing love or finding love?  inspiration for this post came from Poetic Asides' Wednesday Prompt.

3 Battle for Dominance

the silence of the room is deafening
his ears feel like they might explode
unwilling to back down
he holds his ground

the penetrating stare bores into him
his chest feels like it might implode
he stands firm
unwilling to budge

the tension in the room begins to melt
his body finally begins to relax
unwilling to give in
he made his point

the victory tugs at his emotions
his heart feels like it might smile
he has met his objective
unwilling to deviate

the mind opens to possibilities
his internal smile feels like it could light the world
unwilling to bend
he can now educate

inspired by Three Word Wednesday [3WW=>educate, object(ive), silence].

Sunday, December 19, 2010

1 befuddled

i really like that word...befuddled...anyway...

i don't know how i managed to get myself sucked back into writing sevenlings.  my first attempts left me so uncertain...did they really fit the rules?  i blame the whole 'power of three'.  that is was i have affectionately deemed the rule for the to two tercets...
"the first three lines should contain an element of three. It could be three connected or contrasting statements, a list of three details or names, or something else along these lines. The three things can take up all three lines or be contained anywhere within the stanza."  (Poetic Asides, 2009)
i can live with the whole list of three details or names, that is pretty straight forward, but 'three connected or contrasting statements...or something along these lines'.  really?  i mean why would someone write three lines that weren't connected.  as for the whole contrasting statement part...if two or more things are contrasting, then there has to be a connection between them right?  and what about the 'or something along those lines'?  At least the list of details or names is an obvious thing that can be pick out of the tercets, but then, there is the whole part where they can appear anywhere in the stanza.  if they can be anywhere and not a list of things but statements, how are you suppose to identify the three things?  it seems to me the whole rule thing is about the seven lines in two tercets and a single line that has a mysterious, offbeat, and/or disturbing feel.

in short the whole 'power of three' feels to ambiguous, but maybe i'm missing something.  so befuddled with it all, that i refused to name my first two attempts appropriately.  the first definitely fit the whole offbeat feel.  i suppose if i had to classify the 'power of three' it would be as connected statements.  my second attempt was...i'm not really could check it out for yourself and decide.  as for the 'power of three' well, the first tercet was connected with body parts (her back, her eyes, and trembling lips).  the second tercet was connected by feelings (fear, calm, and love).

anyway, i decided to give it one final go.  my last for awhile...

Sevenling (Your laugh sounds like)

Your laugh sounds like nails
scratching on a chalkboard, tires
screeching, and jackhammers on a busy street.

I grew up on country music and reading
Stephen King.  Have you ever heard of
Carrie, Misery, or how about Firestarter?

You have way more to worry about than your car being keyed.