7 Hopeless

your words still run rampant in my head
ricocheting like hot bullets
striking each vital organ
burning holes deep within
bleeding me bone dry
rendering me
completely
without
hope

---

Upon reading One Stop Poetry's Form Monday introduction to the nonet, i decided to have a go at it. figuring it very similar to the etheree which i've already experimented with, i thought it wouldn't be too bad of a write.  and while it wasn't, the counting down of the nonet as opposed to the counting up of the (traditional) etheree was a bit more of a challenge i think.  in the end, i think it came out halfway decent.

3 tear stained healing

I wish I had the words to heal this hurt--
to drive away the stinging pain you feel-
the world is stained with many tear-filled shirts;
so cry my darling cry--begin to heal.
where words do little more than just divert
allow my touch to soothe, so you might peel
this scab--unearth new skin--be whole again--
take back your world and wield your mighty pen.

---

i admit i struggled today--not so much in working with the ottava rima form presented today at OSP's Form Monday, but in finding inspiration.  why you might ask.  it's probably better not to follow my logic...thought that will not stop me from offering it up.


after following the #ospchat yesterday lead by @iamEPanthony, who posed the question "what emotions inspire you to write the most,"  i got to thinking later on my drive home about form poetry.  i find more often than not, writing in form takes me outside of my emotions.  its rules and structure scintillate my left brain allowing me to push aside emotions and use reason and logic.  that doesn't mean i don't tug at my emotions when writing in form, but simply that it allows me to leave it behind.  whether that is a good thing or not, i cannot say.  and so, maybe because the thoughts of emotions were rolling round in my head...maybe because i felt the need to push them aside...maybe...i don't know...whatever it may have been inspiration was not swift or friendly.


so anyway, i know not from where this came or how it managed to weave itself--for surely it did just that.  i only know it came to be--however uncertain i might feel about its existence.

5 Rite of Passage

The sun does favor you today.
By casting you in brilliant light,
your masculinity shines bright.

A warrior you well portray
with head held high. My heart does sigh
as thoughts of mine do go astray.

I blush to think of such a night.
The sun does favor you this day.

The wind does favor you today.
So young and brave our fledgling knight,
to stand before us all with might.

The catching breeze gives naught away;
it billows red to frame your head
and hides the rest to my dismay.

Yet still you are a tasty sight.
The wind does favor you this day.

---

Photo by Walter Parada

so i missed yesterday's One Stop Poetry's One Shoot Sunday [interview with Walter Parada]...missed might be a bit off.  i saw the image in the morning, let some ideas roll around in my head as i often do, settled on a concept and well never managed to find time to put it all together.  while a little disappointed (with myself for allowing myself to get waylaid), i thought to move on...that and figured i might be able to incorporate it into One Stop Poetry's Form Monday.  when i saw today's form was about the octain again, i didn't think i could fit my concept into eight lines...but low and behold today expanded the octain into a high octain (double octain)...and after some thought...this was a plausible possibility.  so alas, while it is the same concept, i did take it from a slightly different direction, leaving out some of my original thoughts (the snickering old biddies would definitely have been a treat)...but i think in the end it worked out okay...maybe...

6 beneath the lies

I'm tired of living these lies,
but breaking free's too hard a task
and help is more than I can ask.

my illness weakens me with "whys"
and fears so strong.  yet still I long
to see beneath my sad disguise.

it's time to rip away my mask.
I'm tired of living these lies!

---

i feel in order to give a new form (new to me--not necessarily new) a real chance, it needs to be explored/attempted at least three times.  i can't say why exactly three, but i think it provides me with a better feel for how the form works and how well if fits me.  that's not to say that every new form i have explored i've tried at least three times, but i have not made any judgments on the form and its potential for joining my arsenal.  anyway...


...after being introduced to the octain yesterday at One Stop Poetry's Form Monday, i thought i'd give it another go.  i was a bit more awake for the writing of this one...that doesn't mean this one will be any better than the last, but one can hope...


the above octain is being shared via One Stop Poetry's One Shot Wednesday.


side note #1:  the last three lines came to me last night (in the reverse order), but i felt their potential then for turning (ha...get it...turning...) into an octain.


side note #2:  i really think i need to stop writing about masks...

8 toying with octain

on top of this being my first ever octain...it's been a long and tiring day...i can hear my bed calling me as i type...so please forgive me the octain i have attempted after reading One Stop Poetry's Form Monday introduction to this form. (note:  my first thought was to use the refrain line "when death comes knocking on your door," but my brain could not seem to handle it quite yet...)

---

Piercing Round

the bullet pierced his heart straight through
a snipers mark he did not see
did bring him down upon his knees

deceived by love he thought was true
did leave a hole within his soul
to love again he would not do

the words declared finality
her bullet pierced his heart straight through

8 designing rhyming

why would i wish to play with rhyme?
thinking this way takes too much time.
linking up lines; making designs; (hrr)
why really, it should be a crime!

ignore vowels with consonance;
employ vowels with assonance;
enjoy each kind? deploy entwined? (hrr)
ignore my growing dissonance?

so many different kinds seems wrong.
perfect, slant, rich... the list is long
connect the ends? effect the heads? (hrr)
so many ways to build rhymes strong.

---

i was so content to stop at the first stanza...but figured the more i toyed the more solid my use might seem.  i really should learn to stick with my first instincts.  this insane attempt at playing with different types of rhymes and position and what not was inspired by One Stop Poetry's Form Monday.  i now know way more about rhymes than i'm sure i care to...  i wonder how many different types i managed to employ....  the (hrr) is my pathetic attempt at expressing an exasperation...it throws off my syllable count a bit, but i couldn't help but add it in. 

---

Check Out Alex's Creative Corner!  Just don't tell her I sent you!

i met a unique and interesting young talent!  she can be a bit scatterbrained at times, but it lends well to her writing. 

after complaining (that's putting it mildly) that she didn't post enough, she has been inundating her blog with post after post.  to reciprocate her kindness (i've been waiting eagerly to see how her SpellCaster's saga ends and to learn more about living an awesome life and highlighters), i promoting her blog as a wild collection of...i'm not sure i have the right words to describe it, so if you get a chance check out Alex's Creative Corner.  Just don't tell her i sent you!

---

6 the foreign language of friendship

the act of making friends does still elude
i've longed to feel those bonds surround my heart
and feel a part of something more than me
but social phobia has paralyzed
the very core of who i am and who
i wish to be.  still it is more than that.
low self-esteem does riddle me with doubts
my words are hollow, pointless entities
they add no value; that's what i believe
though i may try to disregard these thoughts
they haunt my every waking day and night
which means i don't reach out to those around
for fear they'll see in me my worthlessness
and who of them would take the time to break
the walls i've built so high and watch them fall
when alls i'll do is build them up again

---

above is my pitiful attempt at blank verse.  (pitiful 'cause of some weird nuances of mine and breaking thoughts across lines, but i'll get over it...i think.)  anyway...the above poetic form was presented in wonderful detail at One Stop Poetry's Form Monday.

stress and paranoia is starting to set in again.  i've been feeling it build and find myself having trouble escaping.  the crazy thing is it hits me on two fronts--in the world that surrounds me day and night (the 'real' world) and in the one i choose to enter (the 'cyber' world) searching for some semblance a peace which seems to elude me.  lately i've been contemplating the idea of friends in both of these worlds and have found...'friends' really is a foreign word to me--the making...the maintaining...more than i can handle in either of these worlds.  it's times like these that i think it best to exit this one (no panicking here i'm speaking of the 'cyber' one) and find peace once again in the form of pencil and paper...maybe that's not such a bad idea...

0 unraveling prosody...

one would think that after torturing myself with anapest i would stay as far away from dactyl, but no.  (where's my monkey wearing his top hat and carrying his pocketbook when i need him?)  anyway, today One Stop Poetry's Form Monday continued its exploration of prosody.  after toying around with feet that end with a stress and feet that begin with a stress, i wonder why is it i always seem to want to end the first with two syllable words were the stress falls on the first half and why do i find myself itching to make each of the latter masculine?  (if you followed that last question, i'd be impressed...)  so below is my pitiful attempt at dactyl.  i did vary the length of the lines and i'm sure that it probably could be read with stress place all willy-nilly, but i've marked them the way that i hear (and feel i would speak) them.  


additional inspiration came from Poetic Asides' Challenge to "write a falling poem."

---

unraveling

falling tears splatter like blood on a wounded soul
finally everything crashes in
pulling me
tearing me
fraying my edges and threatening all I am
will I unravel before I can find my way?

3 Darwin Shamed

survival
no longer relies
on fittest
but on wealth
technology has destroyed
our evolution

---

today i was introduced to a new form by One Stop Poetry's Form Monday...so i thought i give it a couple of goes. this is my second shadorma of the day and my response to Jingle Poetry's Poetry Potluck [evolution, environmnet, survival].

3 Too Young

just the name
brings threatening tears
to a crest
painful waves
carrying what could have been
crash against my heart

---

i've had a very turbulent day. one particular thought lingers in me...so i thought i'd use One Stop Poetry's Form Monday to expel it from my system...i suppose expel is a little optimistic.  so here is my first shadorma.

4 positively insane

i must have been absolutely insane.  i (for the most part) have the whole iambic thing down; so of course it makes perfect sense to try for anapest.  did i mention i'm absolutely insane.  i think it would be one thing if i were to try from scratch, 'cause then figuring out how to twist something just right wouldn't be so hard since the whole thing is an open slate.  now whether my thinking is accurate or not is another story, but anyway i took my most resent poem (or at least the beginning of it anyway) and tried for making it into anapest feet.  i think my biggest problem is multi-syllable words that don't have the stress at the end (for some reason i think it disturbs the flow). 

Original eight lines of plunge into nonexistence:

i watched the ripples on the surface
as i sank into nonexistence
concentric circles
spread far beyond my reach
fading into the distance
until they too were nonexistent
so mesmerized by this was i
i barely noticed the true picture

Rewrite in anapest feet--though truth be told i have a hard time hearing this type of beat...

while I stare at the surface where ripples do spread
nonexistence takes hold as I sink far beneath
waves of beautiful circles of light
in the distance beyond my short reach they do fade
‘til they too disappear from existence and sight
so enthralled by this small fact was I
the true picture I barely did notice it’s truth

this reflection into poetic feet was the result of a challenge set forth at One Stop Poetry's Form Monday.  i'm not so sure how well i hit the mark on this challenge, but the description of the prosody was quite informative.

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.).

11 I Shall Not Compromise

do tell me true or not at all
on this I shall not compromise
words were not meant to wear a guise
nor stand to build a great stone wall

within your spell you hope I’ll fall
through coated words that tantalize
but tell me true or not at all
on this I shall not compromise

don’t cast that gaze meant to enthrall
nor hide behind those pale blue eyes
my heart can’t take your twisted lies
I wager you should heed my call
do tell me true or not at all

---

so i now round out (or should i say rond out) my poetic adventures by adding rondels to walk beside my rondelet and rondeau.  this is my somewhat so-so attempt on One Stop Poetry's Form Monday prompt.  it was definitely quite an adventure.  i had lines all over the place; eventually i melded them into couplets and then twisted those around until they seem to fit with some cohesive entity.  initially "my heart can't take your twisted lies" was the second half of the refrain, but inevitably i pushed it out and replaced it with "on this I shall not compromise."  i think it makes for a slightly stronger refrain. my only question at this moment is whether or not to make it a rondel prime (a.k.a. a french sonnet).


as i finally sat back i found myself completely drained.  counting syllables (especially in iambic) really takes a toll.  when i realized i had yet to think about Jingle Poetry's Poetry Potluck [lies, deception, and misrepresentation], well i admit i was far from excited to delve into another poem.  i thought about posting act IV of my ballad (seeing as how it was unlikely that many people would come across this tale that has taken quite a toll on me and is far from done), but i have this thing about adhering to the theme even if they are not overly picky about deviations.  So as this wild diatribe is going on in my head it suddenly dawns on me that the rondel actually fits this week's theme.  so those of you at Jingle Poetry can count yourself blessed that you will not get sucked into my epic ballad.

10 Full Bloom

Before the proof can disappear,
come see this precious flower bloom.
The world must know what I hold dear
for soon the proof shall disappear.
I must present my findings here.
He gave this bud to dull my gloom;
a vow, his love won't disappear.
Come see!  My heart is in full bloom.

---

all it took was a little down time, i suppose.  for here it is, as complete as it was meant to be.  my original thoughts for a triolet (One Stop Poetry's Form Monday prompt) manage to finally bloom.  i toyed a bit with the repeating lines (a bit more than my earlier attempt); i almost changed disappear in the second to last line to near, but after a bit more tinkering, i found a way to maintain that original word.  i also would have preferred to use "wouldn't" in the second to last line, but i couldn't wrap my head around it only being counted as one syllable, so i went with "won't" instead.


Since I already posted up a triolet earlier for OSP Form Monday, this will make it way to OSP's One Shot Wednesday. 

2 beneath starlit skies

she twirls beneath the starlit sky.
as laughter bubbles in my heart,
I watch her dance with gaze held high.
she twirls beneath the starlit sky,
her arms outstretched so she can fly
with fairies as her counterpart.
she twirls beneath the starlit sky;
her laughter echoing her heart.

---

so after reading this week's insight on triolets from One Stop Poetry's Form Monday, i toyed a bit with the repeating lines...well technically one of the repeating lines...  it was not the poem i set out to write.  i started with a line that lead to two other rhyming lines; the trouble was finding the other internal rhyme and the first repeating lines counterpart...  below you'll find the start...maybe i'll revisit it...maybe you have an idea on where it could lead...maybe it will float away and disappear though the proof of its existence will remain forever here...

---

before the proof can disappear
~B~
I must present my findings here
before the proof does disappear
the world must know what I hold dear
~b~
before the proof should disappear
~B~

3 piercing words

she wields her words with subtle grace
a sword that strikes straight through the heart
she speaks a truth you fear to face
she wields her words with subtle grace
her ink stains you cannot erase
with love and rage your torn apart
she wields her words with subtle grace
a sword that strikes straight through the heart

---

today, inspired by One Stop Poetry's Form Monday, i once again attempted a triolet.  it took awhile for me to find the right thought, especially when i'm not particularly fond of having to count syllables (which i'm sure i have mentioned multiple times in the past)...and then of course there's making sure the stress lands appropriately with multi-syllable words and on non-insignificant words (like 'sword' instead of 'that')...  non-insignificant is a double negative...i suppose significant would have suffices...

2 frazzled ('cause i already used befuddled)...

this whole tanka/haiku thing has me spinning in circles...add to it kyoka and senryu and well i'm so frazzled...


the two poem pivot of the tanka has me somewhat disconnected.  the 5-7-5 but doesn't have to be 5-7-5 haiku bit has me in a bit of tizzy.  the anti-tanka mad song/poem better known as a kyoka is well rather unknown.  and it would really help if i had a better handle on satirical and irony 'cause otherwise the senryu is just human-nature as apposed to nature-nature.  of course there's the you-really-don't-get-this-form poem, also known as free verse.


i have no idea what's what.  a strict syllable count and inherent theme seem so much easier.  why do things have to get complicated?  how 'bout we just call it a poem?  so do i just give up, write what's in me and not care if it hits the mark?  or do i do my best to hit the mark and search out the answers and advice?


feel free to chime in at anytime here....


Tanka, Kyoka, or Free Verse?

#1
close your eyes my sweet
taste the delicate flavor
my lips offer you
sugary sweetened remnants
taste succulent on the tongue

#2
she defied reason
by not falling for his game
capturing his heart
she stole his play book with ease
and played him at his own game


Haiku, Senryu, or Free Verse?

#1
waters rise
trespassing in homes
melting snow

#2
it was the deers fault
he don't need to read to see
'tis a duck cross here

0 Batch #3

Bursting with Pom Seeds
(image by rmp, that's me)

time for a new batch of pom seeds and leftovers.  i definitely think twitter was a good medium for throwing out little bursts of thought that have the potential of evolving into a tasty morsel.  140 characters seems to be just enough, though i admit i've cut some ideas or reworked them to stay below the limit.  i've now been a member for 39 days...and have managed 18 tweets.  and while the majority of them are pom seeds, two found themselves fully ripe with flavor.  so i'm expanding this batch to include new pom seeds, leftovers, and (what i will term) tweetoetry.

---

Pom Seeds Batch #3

• my heart aches for what was; as the world crashes in on me; ripping through me; as though I were a speck of dust; I weep for you
• love is pain and sorrow; wrapped in disguise; it laughs at me; with its sweet intoxicating lies
• I woke this evening to a dream; and found myself the real me (i tried to expand this one, but i don't think it has fermented as much as it needs to)
• I see myself in black & white; brilliant colors surround me; poke at me; eager to caress me with their warmth; but they bounce off of me

Leftovers

• Information overload
• I woke with rose colored glasses and the world was as only I could dream it to be
• we were never friends; not really; how could we be; when all we did; was dance around each other
• my mom use to day; we're never lost; we're just misplaced
• i hate days like today; where i'm blindsided; punched in the chest; days when all i want to do is curl up into a little ball and disappear
• "you're growing."; am I? I don't think I'm growing; maybe just walking outside myself
• I feel like an outsider looking in; the warm embrace of acceptance eludes (found its flavor in two recent poems:  alone and To be rid of this curse)

Tweetoetry

#1

~Drowning

how do I make it stop 

how do I just--not care 

please! tell me how 

'cause I'm drowning 

alone 

and fast 

(this first tweetoetry had me toying with syllables (6, 6, 4, 4, 2, 2).  i've never really been one for syllables.  even more so if i have to pay attention to syllable stress.  but it's good to work outside one's comfort zone.)

Strike a Pose
(image by rmp, that's me)

#2

~My Dear Little One

you lay with eyes closed

your breath barely visible

I fear what's ahead

the cold earth is unyielding

still I must make your last bed

(first, i still had tanka on the brain from One Stop Poetry's Form Monday [Part 1 and Part 2].  not a bad form for tweetoetry, but not exceeding the max character count can be a bit tricky.  secondly, the poem was written for Bailey, who had me quite worried by acting like  an old man as apposed to his usual rambunctious self.  i've read the average lifespan is 8-10 in some sources and 10-12 in others.  either way, he is on the cusp being just over 10 years old.  fortunately, he is back to his crazy wall climbing self.  maybe it was the cold weather...maybe he was mad at me...maybe he was just tired from all his shenanigans, after all he is technically and old man.)

11 Tanka: Kisses

#1
I'm troubled to find
twirling with arms wide open
snow kisses melt fast
a contradiction to yours
which linger long and melt...me


#2
I feel the sun's kiss
mirror the burning within
oh how I miss you
just the thought of your sweet lips
sends shivers of pure desire

---

once again i find myself toying with tanka.  my first attempts were done with the simple knowledge of syllable count.  my second attempts were done with a bit of history on the origins (lover's notes).  since, i have gleaned some additional information on the traditional structure of the poem, which splits the poem in two pieces (and tends to include some expression of season).  i can't quite decide if this makes it easier to write or more challenging--this thinking in parts.  i reviewed my other attempts; read them as though they were two separate entities and they sounded like they fit (except for the season bit)...but what do i really know...except that i happen to like them.    Anyway, thank you to One Stop Poetry's Form Monday (Part 1 and Part 2) for their wonderful review of this poetic form.  you have totally destroyed my original view of tanka, for which i am not sure i can forgive you...maybe given a bit of time...we'll see...

0 Tanka: Goddess

#1
just a simple touch
invokes a feral goddess
burning deep within
a fire only you can quench
please, i beg, touch me again


#2
as i lie in wait
open and ready for you,
my heart and soul bare,
the thought of your sweet caress
conjures the goddess within

---

my first introduction to tanka mentioned not its origins as love notes between lovers.  this new enlightenment took me on a new path...one that if i think long enough about will make me blush...but why not...  inspiration for this new path came from the detailed history of the tanka laid out at One Stop Poetry's  Form Monday.