5 Last Call: Your Open Heart

---

Your Open Heart

If you have any hope of keeping me,
be on your guard should love begin to shape
for in my heart I'll be already packed.
So lock the door and throw away the key!

I have a tendency towards escape--
to throw up walls--for me to run and hide.
Be on your guard when love begins to shape;

for once within your heart I won't unpack--
when it comes down to sharing what's inside;
you need to realize this simple fact.

Just lock the door and throw away the key;
I have a tendency towards escape.
You need to realize this simple fact,
if you have any hope of keeping me.

---

So, after my post where I gave form with both meter and rhyme a go, I decided to keep the rhythm going.  While this is not the same form (or technically any form for that matter though I have deemed it be called the Nota, formerly NAFF, 'cause I've written six poems now using this structure), it has a rhyming patter built in and I did my best to write in iambic pentameter.  I don't intend to move away from meter or rhyme for at least one (maybe if I'm brave, two) more poem.

---

It seems yet again I have found inspiration from one of my Pom Seeds.  I knew they'd come in handy!

---

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

---

An (Audio) Aside: I'm extremely upset; the online application I use to record, store, and embed from is closing down its advanced features, which includes the audio.  Now I have to work on finding an alternative. But it was an awesome application:  easy to record, easy to edit, easy to add effects, easy to create a final product, easy to embed.  And all of this in one place online and free.  Very depressing.

---

6 Hidden Truth

hidden truth.egg on Aviary.

---

Hidden Truth

His actions vindicated with two words
bring little solace to his worn down soul;
For deep within he knows the scary truth
they'll come from out of the woodwork in herds.

Where solace should embrace his worn down soul,
this verdict lays an old case at his feet;
a young boy's death now takes a greater toll.

As impetus for kidnapping our youth,
this two word verdict is a defeat
which drives home within him the scary truth;

they'll come from out of the woodwork in herds.
A young boy's life now worth a greater toll,
with impetus for kidnapping our youth;
His actions vindicated with two words.

---

it has been quite some time since i found myself participating in a Three Word Wednesday [3WW=>impetus, solace, vindication(-ion+ed)]. i'm sure i could probably deduce why it has taken me so long (since returning from my self-imposed exile) to return, but i'll save us all such a crazy rambling. as for why this week i cannot say, especially when you consider the words. i'm not really sure i did justice to the 'impetus'...or any of the 3WW words.


upon first reading them, they made me think of an episode recently on "Harry's Law" that i saw. i don't know if the poem makes sense outside of having seen the episode, but...


i am double dipping today by offering this up for OpenLinkNight over at dVerse~Poets Pub.

10 The Sweet Taste of Silence

Sweet Sweet Silence.egg on Aviary.

---

Sweet Sweet Silence

The taste of silence was never so sweet,
as the touch of your lips pressed against mine,
stealing away my words with breathless sighs.
Strangely words still pour forth with your retreat.

We both see the flaw in your plan's design;
Your foolish hope that shock will still my voice,
as the touch of your lips press against mine.

Stealing my words with breathless sighs...
but speechless? You leave me with but one choice;
knowing you'll employ my mouth otherwise.

Naturally words still pour forth with your retreat;
smiling with you at your plan's flawed design,
daring you -- engage my mouth otherwise.
The taste of silence was never so sweet.

---

Sweet Silence
(tweet by rmpWritings, that's me)

"the taste of silence was never so sweet" has been festering in my head ever since it made its first appearance via twitter.  it eventually gave birth to two poems, Kiss Me Senseless and Sweet Kiss (neither of which actually used the line).  with each poem, i promised it would eventually find its own voice in a poem.  today it does just that.  


this poem is another NAFF (not-a-form form), which i have been toying with for a bit now.  this makes poem number five.  


this is my contribution for tonight's OpenLinkNight over at dVerse~Poets Pub where a vast offering of talent writers come to share their love of poetry.  


Note:  i had issues recording...so forgive me if it sounds weird(er than usual).    

8 Wise Old Trusted Friend

i walk with indecision, an old trusted comrade. 
he frowns at me constantly with his lopsided grin,
taunting me with options and choices i have to make.
his incessant back talking has yet to drive me mad.

i often find myself lost in a downward tailspin
uncertain of what fate holds for me at every turn,
while his lopsided frown mocks me with that twisted grin.

his taunting of options and choices i have to make
provide me with an opportunity to discern
the power of my decisions and what is at stake

his incessant back talk will certainly drive me mad,
but when i find myself in a downward tailspin,
i must find the power to decide what is at stake
for i walk with indecision, a wise old comrade.

---

i have no idea what exactly the above poem holds within its lines.  i just know that upon seeing this week's Three Word Wednesday [3WW=>indecision, option(s), fate], the phrase "i walk with indecision" popped into my head.  after writing the first three lines, i thought it might be fun to try my hand once again at my not-a-form form (affectionately known now as NAFF).  this time, however, i went with thirteen syllables (no specific meter) instead of ten.  previous NAFFs include:  Indefinitely Delayed, The Music Man, and devil's laugh.  (the latter having a more detailed explanation of the NAFF's structure.)

this construction is also being linked up with this week's OSP One Shot Wednesday.

6 devil's laugh

he laughs the bitter taste out past his lips
then turns the remnants over on his tongue
to savor them as if a robust wine
this dance will take but one or two small sips

he'll spin you 'til your last full breath is wrung
and soak up every morsel you possess
then turn your essence over on his tongue

he'll savor you as if a robust wine
and drink you in with every coy caress
misguiding you to think him quite devine

this dance will take but one or two small sips
he'll spin you 'til your last full breath is wrung
misguiding you to think him quite devine
he laughs your luscious taste in through is lips

---

the above not-a-form form (i should probably come up with a name for it...and/or do some research to see if something like it actually already exists) is my third attempt at writing within this structure A1-B1-C1-A2 / B2-d-B1 / C1-d-C2 / A2-B2-C2-A1 (letters denote ending rhyme, capitals denote repeating lines, numbers assist in identifying where line will repeat--minor variations on repeating lines allowed as long as the final word remains intact) with each line having exactly 10 syllables.  i was toying with the idea of varying the placement of the repeating line within the middle two stanzas (B1-d-B2 / C2-d-C1), but for now i'll let it lie.  prior exploration includes "idefinitely delayed" and "music man." 


crazy me decided to make it a bit more fun this time...i decided to give iambic pentameter a go for this little ditty.


this construction is being linked into this week's OSP One Shot Wednesday.

---

i think i'm going to disappear for awhile...go into hiding...i made myself a nice little cozy happy place...will see if i can resist the pull of OSP's One Shoot Sunday and Form Monday or the pull of Three Word Wednesday (hmmm...  i might have to wait until after tomorrow's post to go into hiding...).  i have talked about doing something like this for awhile, but thus far it has all been talk...but a nice peaceful hiding spot sounds good...i'd tell you were it was, but then it wouldn't be a hiding place anymore....  


see you on the flip side...

4 The Music Man

his calloused fingers strum a gentle tune
weaving a spell of musical delight
while his raspy voice croons a sultry song
whispering promises to make her swoon

the words he crafted are meant to ignite
a burning passion deep within her soul
through a weaved spell of musical delight

while his raspy voice croons a sultry song
he pours out his heart so he might feel whole
knowing deep down this love cannot be wrong

he whispers promises to make her swoon
words he crafted so her heart would ignite
revealing a love that could not be wrong
his calloused fingers strum a loving tune

---

i couldn't help myself...  with Poetic Asides' challenge to "pick a type of person and write a poem about him or her," i had to revisit "i'm waiting" and my music man.  i also felt the need to toy once again with the form i crafted in "indefinitely delayed."  as before, each line has ten syllables and six lines that each repeat once with two non-repeating lines following the pattern and rhyme scheme:  A1-B1-C1-A2 / B2-d-B1 / C1-d-C2 / A2-B2-C2-A1 (capital letters denote repeating lines).  occasionally a repeated line is tweaked slightly, but maintains the same general set of words.  i wasn't sure how well this non-form form would work again, but i think i kind of like the results.  if i really wanted to get fancy i'd pay more attention to syllabic stresses...but i toyed with that already today and am quite exhausted from it.


linked to OSP's One Shot Wednesday...just because i felt like it this week...

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).