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.

Saturday, April 2, 2011

1 Postcard #1: Wishing You

Closed Layers
(postcard front)
[image by rmp, that's me]

(postcard back)
[click to enlarge]

dear lover,

i write this from my bed
where i continually dream of you
my heart aches to have you here
helping me to forget about the world
but really
can you live up to all i have dream?
for i have dreamed you many times over
molded you to suit my whims and fears
can you really hold a candle
to my heart's desires?
i fear the answers are no
and yet still i wish you were here.

with much love,

upon reading Poetic Asides’ challenge to write a postcard poem, the first thought that came to mind was “another postcard with chimpanzees ~ and everyone is addressed to me.” i had to listen to the song just to get it out of my head. after a bit more reflection, i found myself thinking about D. Prest and her letters, which never made it past letter #2. i went back and read over the two letters and (aside from realizing i am a horrid speller) wondered what D. might say in a postcard. it didn’t take long for me to find her words.

Friday, April 1, 2011

3 On the Wings of my Muse

if you should listen quietly enough
you just might hear them
whispering to me

most of the time they're hidden out of sight
no one can see them
too shocking they'd be

occasionally they come out to play
i call upon them
with a silent plea

just take but a moment and listen close
you just might hear them
inspiring me

my fingers flutter across the keyboard
in rhythm with them
souring high and free

today marks day one!  today inspiration was sparked by Poetic Asides.  upon reading the prompt, "write a 'what got you here' poem," the first thing that popped into my head was "on the back of a butterfly."  so i went with it.

side note:  for someone who does not enjoy counting syllables (or rhyming for that matter), i seem to find my fingers tapping out the count as if on autopilot.

Thursday, March 31, 2011

1 a ruleless month...well not exactly...

along with being the first day of April (better known to most as April Fool’s Day when the tricksters come out to play and show that just about anyone can be made a fool of), it is also the start of National Poetry Month. in honor of this, i have decided to forgo the rules i set forth on this blog (which i use to keep me in check and help me keep the creative juices flowing) for the month of April and enact a single temporary rule.
  • Write a Poem a Day
yeah, i know crazy...but i also know i'm not the only crazy one out there...some are this crazy year round...or more so...but what can i say i like crazy...

in my head, this idea seems a bit nerve racking and anxiety inducing and stressful and...what other words can i use to say the exact same thing over and over and over again...  nonetheless, i am going to give it a go.  i will continue to seek inspiration during this time from Three Word Wednesday, OSP One Shoot Sunday, OSP Form Monday, JP's Poetry Potluck, and Poetic Asides.  i do fear that i will find myself a bit overwhelmed with keeping up with all of theses on a regular basis and with visiting and commenting on others posts...still i will do my best to visit and comment at least once a week (usually i set aside Tuesday and Thursday for this--though often i find myself wondering on other days as well). 

note:  forgoing my rules does not mean that i won't occasional throw out a rambling or prose, but it removes the pressure of having to do so on top of this daunting task (at least it seems daunting to me).

wish me luck!  i have a feeling i'm going to need it...

Wednesday, March 30, 2011



his persuasive tone
plus the riches he boasts
repell all those around him

"blaring volumes clash with senses"

it's that time keeping with tradition (the past two months...during the last week...for 3WW...i think that makes a tradition...), i have constructed a clarity pyramid from prompt presented by Three Word Wednesday [3WW=>loud, persuasive, riches].  it took a bit of finagling, but i think it works well enough.

Monday, March 28, 2011

6 Indefinitely Delayed

i can't afford to take this risky trip
deep within the recesses of my mind;
where sanity hangs on by just a thread
and the Fates' scissors do threaten to snip.

i can't contend with the fear that does bind--
paralyzing me from taking this flight
deep within the recesses of my mind.

my sanity hangs on by just a thread
and my tour guides are far from a delight.
how can i not fear what lay up ahead?

while the Fates' scissors threaten to snip,
how do i contend with the fears that bind--
when i do not know what lies up ahead?
i cannot chance taking this risky trip.

i think i may have stretched the theme for Jingle Poetry's Poetry Potluck [trips, travel, and vacation].  but i haven't really been on any trips lately, nor have i thought about taking any recently...besides, the first two lines just floated into my head so i decided to go with it.

while there is a definite structure to the poem above, it (to my knowledge) does not fit any actual poetic form. but with my affinity for repeating lines it speaks a dialect of pantoums and villanelles.  upon expanding the first two lines into the first stanza, it was not my intent to stick to any structure, though the syllable count of ten seemed to natural not to stick with.  i also took note of the first and fourth lines rhyme and the internal lines identical consonant ending.  as i opened up the second stanza and realized it rhymed with one of the internal lines from the first, well you can see above how my brain took over and developed the structure.  it was definitely fun to toy a non-form form (if that makes any sense).  

5 As Only I Could Dream

I woke this ev'ning to a dream
and found myself the real me.
she danced about as though carefree;
not tied to my poor self-esteem.

my fears were washed away downstream
and she was left for all to see.
I woke this ev'ning to a dream
and found myself the real me.

no longer is the silent scream
that torments my reality.
she has a fresh mentality;
it's one I wish would reign supreme.
I woke this ev'ning to a dream.

for starters, thank you to One Stop Poetry's Form Monday.  i thoroughly enjoyed the torture of iambic tetrameter and the fun(ky) rhyme scheme (ABba abAB abbaA), which i have (sadly) know memorized.  

so i wasn't sure about the second line; in my head i hear 'real' with two syllables (and the dictionary seems to agree), but at the same time it feels like it should only be one.  in the end i (obviously) decided to let it stand as two syllables.  i also had issues with the word 'different' (which depending on how i choose to pronounce it has two or three syllables...and the dictionary was of no help to me on this count).  in the end, i ended up changing the line for different reasons, but i think had i not i would have left it with an expected count of two.

upon finishing the rondel, i wondered if i should completely transform the end...rewriting the double refrain and extending it into a French sonnet (a.k.a. a rondel prime).  so if you have an opinion, feel free to share it with me.  the alternate ending would remove 'I woke this evening to a dream' and replace it with the following to lines:

I woke this morning from a dream
and found myself the real me.

okay, so i just changed the two lines above.  i think keeping the second line is better than my other thought (and found myself the same old me.).

Sunday, March 27, 2011

4 far from ordinary

there's a secret
beneath this guise
hidden well
by this ugly rough exterior
a facade meant to deceive
intent on blending in
hoping to disappear
amongst the ordinary
very few
see it for what it is
only a handful
look beyond the surface
crack it wide open
baring the beauty
that lies deep within
the ugly rough armor

"Time Wave Zero"
(photo by Roger Allen Baut)
the image to the left was provided as inspiration by One Stop Poetry's One Shoot Sunday [flashback to interview with Roger Allen Baut].  i'm not good with abstract.  my mind has this incessant need to make sense of things.  to that end, i found myself on an unusual train of thought.  glass... waves... sparkling... blue... white... crystal... minerals... bookends... (what bookends don't make sense to you...imagine being inside my brain...)  anyway...bookends made of agate quartz have an layered feel of blue hues and white.  their pattern is a bit different from the presented image, but nonetheless this is were my train of thought lead me.  and from there i found myself.  (yeah, that's it.  myself.  that's what this poem ended up being about.)  so i ended far from where i began and quite disconnected should anyone try to make the connection to the image without my odd sequence of thought.  

i also managed a pom seed out of the deal.  (again it is quite disjointed from the actual image, but reflects the bookens and myself.)  this pom seed did not mature enough to be included in the poem above, but i think it has potential.  "you put me on a shelf and stare at me/ hold me on a pedestal as though I were a queen"  (in my head, i hear this as a song with a biting sound.  i'd sing it for you, but i don't want to scare you off...well anymore than my odd ramblings might.)

side note:  i feel like recently i've used the word guise (or disguise) way too often...