Showing posts with label ~Pantoum. Show all posts
Showing posts with label ~Pantoum. Show all posts
Wednesday, October 10, 2012
1 Last Call: Transformation
Transformation
deep in his bones he felt the time was near
the clock ticked like an itch he could not scratch
this burden he carried drove him crazy. burning with fear,
he drew in a breath thinking with a grimace of the impending rematch
the clock ticked. like an itch he could not scratch
he felt his muscles twitch out of his control
he drew in a breath. thinking, with a grimace, of the impending rematch
and the constant fight for his soul
he felt his muscles twitch. out of his control,
his body flung itself out of the chair;
and the constant fight for his soul
began. as he stumbled to his feet, he felt the despair
his body flung itself out of the chair
his reaction to the pull of the night's moon
began. as he stumbled to his feet, he felt the despair
from within--how he wished he were immune
his reaction to the pull of the night's moon--
that which conjured such pain--brought to his lips a cry
from within--how he wished he were immune
rather than cursed by the phase of the moon that would soon grace night sky
that which conjured such pain, brought to his lips a cry
as his body contorted and reshaped. he wished to be free
rather than cursed by the phase of the moon that would soon grace night sky.
he could feel the change from the poison no one could see
as his body contorted and reshaped, he wished to be free;
this burden he carried drove him crazy. burning with fear
he could feel the change from the poison no one could see
deep in his bones. he felt the time was near
An Aside: okay so I'm cheating a bit this week. things have been so crazy my mind has not had a chance to breathe. So I'm posting an older poem, but am including an audio of it.
for those of you who may not recognize the form, but know it is a form....this is a pantoum. I first met this form back in August 2010 on a site called Shadow Poetry. This here was my third attempt at the form (also in August 2010). I toyed with the form twice since. Once for the fun of it and a second time when the form was introduced on FormForAll at dVerse Poets Pub.
This is my offerings for this week's dVerse Poets Pub OpenLinkNight. If you get a chance, check out all of the talented poets who have stepped up into the spotlight.
Friday, September 9, 2011
5 Methods to Soothe Raging Emotions: Prescriptive Drug
Music is my drug of choice.
It courses through each vein
giving my raging emotions a voice.
Intent on soothing the tidal wave of pain,
it courses through each vein
melting into my bloodstream.
Intent on soothing the tidal wave of pain
notes vibrate through me like a scream.
Melting into my bloodstream,
I hear the rhythm crystal clear.
Notes vibrate through me like a scream
in tune with my writhing fear.
I hear the rhythm crystal clear
as my reverberating thoughts ring.
In tune with my writhing fear
my frayed nerves begin to sing.
As my reverberating thoughts ring,
muscles no longer feel so tight.
My frayed nerves begin to sing
a song as pure as evening light.
Muscles no longer feel so tight.
While my heart's rhythm syncs
to a song as pure as evening light,
I loose myself to this musical sphinx.
While my heart's rhythm syncs,
vibrations seep through every pore.
I loose myself to this musical sphinx
like magic she unravels me to the core.
Vibrations seep through every pore
giving my raging emotions a voice.
Like magic, she unravels me to the core;
Music, my drug of choice.
when i saw the pantoum was the FormForAll over at dVerse~Poets Pub i admit i was a little excited. it has been a while since i last wrote a poem in this form. my first attempt was part of my 100th post over a year ago. i toyed with it a couple of times after that and found it to be quite an enjoyable form...though not necessarily the easiest.
it did take me awhile to come up with a topic. it wasn't until earlier this evening that the first line popped into my head. after some thought, i began to think of a poem (Methods to Soothe Raging Emotions) i wrote that blossomed into several other poems. Mysteriously it also is my number one most viewed poem.
It courses through each vein
giving my raging emotions a voice.
Intent on soothing the tidal wave of pain,
it courses through each vein
melting into my bloodstream.
Intent on soothing the tidal wave of pain
notes vibrate through me like a scream.
Melting into my bloodstream,
I hear the rhythm crystal clear.
Notes vibrate through me like a scream
in tune with my writhing fear.
I hear the rhythm crystal clear
as my reverberating thoughts ring.
In tune with my writhing fear
my frayed nerves begin to sing.
As my reverberating thoughts ring,
muscles no longer feel so tight.
My frayed nerves begin to sing
a song as pure as evening light.
Muscles no longer feel so tight.
While my heart's rhythm syncs
to a song as pure as evening light,
I loose myself to this musical sphinx.
While my heart's rhythm syncs,
vibrations seep through every pore.
I loose myself to this musical sphinx
like magic she unravels me to the core.
Vibrations seep through every pore
giving my raging emotions a voice.
Like magic, she unravels me to the core;
Music, my drug of choice.
when i saw the pantoum was the FormForAll over at dVerse~Poets Pub i admit i was a little excited. it has been a while since i last wrote a poem in this form. my first attempt was part of my 100th post over a year ago. i toyed with it a couple of times after that and found it to be quite an enjoyable form...though not necessarily the easiest.
it did take me awhile to come up with a topic. it wasn't until earlier this evening that the first line popped into my head. after some thought, i began to think of a poem (Methods to Soothe Raging Emotions) i wrote that blossomed into several other poems. Mysteriously it also is my number one most viewed poem.
Tuesday, March 1, 2011
6 to be free to touch
her gloved fingers itched to be free.
unhindered by fabric or this gift, she longed
to taste the world as it was meant to be
unhindered by fabric or this gift, she longed
to feel the warmth of his caress
and finally feel like she belonged
to feel the warmth of his caress
as he trailed his fingers along her skin,
was a dream she had to repress.
as he trailed his fingers along her skin,
with her own glove covering his hand
she felt the desire burn deep within.
with her own glove covering his hand
he pulled her close, his eyes focused on her lips
the threat of his kiss was more than she could stand
he pulled her close, his eyes focused on her lips
oh how she wished to fulfill his plea
and touch his mouth with more than glove covered fingertips
oh how she wished to fulfill his plea.
her gloved fingers itched to be free
to taste the world as it was meant to be.
my thoughts earlier in the afternoon were to work on my long neglected tale of With Just a Touch. technically i have the rest of the story mapped out; i know exactly how it will end...but i have no patience really for lengthy writes. that's probably why i like poetry; the longest poem i ever labored over (save the cursed ballad that i'm still working on...not sure whether to thank or curse One Stop Poetry's Form Monday for their hand in inspiring me to try a ballad)...where was i...ah, yes, the longest poem i ever labored over was two type pages, but alas the words probably only covered 30% of the paper...
i think i'm off topic...hmmm.... so while i thought to add to With Just a Touch, i was thinking about One Stop Poetry's One Shot Wednesday (and ignoring the fact that it is Tuesday and already the post is up with more than 80 link-ins...i suppose it's Wednesday somewhere). while i participated once before, two weeks ago, it was with an old poem i thought to share. i thought this time it might be nice to share something new. i think i'm off topic again...where was i...hmm, yes...OSP made it very easy for me to push aside my story for a poem instead...
upon further reflection, i thought it was a long time since i toyed with a pantoum...so my brain decided to not completely neglect my story, but to honor it with a poem...this wonderful train of thought was all fine and dandy, but if you read the above poem (and know anything about pantoums) you will know that it is not exactly a pantoum...i sort of truncated it a bit. after i was done, i thought it would only take a couple of tweaks and one additional line to fit, but i kinda like it the way it is.
i think that's enough rambling for now...so i'm going to link in (probably somewhere in the 90's) and then head off to bed...night...
unhindered by fabric or this gift, she longed
to taste the world as it was meant to be
unhindered by fabric or this gift, she longed
to feel the warmth of his caress
and finally feel like she belonged
to feel the warmth of his caress
as he trailed his fingers along her skin,
was a dream she had to repress.
as he trailed his fingers along her skin,
with her own glove covering his hand
she felt the desire burn deep within.
with her own glove covering his hand
he pulled her close, his eyes focused on her lips
the threat of his kiss was more than she could stand
he pulled her close, his eyes focused on her lips
oh how she wished to fulfill his plea
and touch his mouth with more than glove covered fingertips
oh how she wished to fulfill his plea.
her gloved fingers itched to be free
to taste the world as it was meant to be.
my thoughts earlier in the afternoon were to work on my long neglected tale of With Just a Touch. technically i have the rest of the story mapped out; i know exactly how it will end...but i have no patience really for lengthy writes. that's probably why i like poetry; the longest poem i ever labored over (save the cursed ballad that i'm still working on...not sure whether to thank or curse One Stop Poetry's Form Monday for their hand in inspiring me to try a ballad)...where was i...ah, yes, the longest poem i ever labored over was two type pages, but alas the words probably only covered 30% of the paper...
i think i'm off topic...hmmm.... so while i thought to add to With Just a Touch, i was thinking about One Stop Poetry's One Shot Wednesday (and ignoring the fact that it is Tuesday and already the post is up with more than 80 link-ins...i suppose it's Wednesday somewhere). while i participated once before, two weeks ago, it was with an old poem i thought to share. i thought this time it might be nice to share something new. i think i'm off topic again...where was i...hmm, yes...OSP made it very easy for me to push aside my story for a poem instead...
upon further reflection, i thought it was a long time since i toyed with a pantoum...so my brain decided to not completely neglect my story, but to honor it with a poem...this wonderful train of thought was all fine and dandy, but if you read the above poem (and know anything about pantoums) you will know that it is not exactly a pantoum...i sort of truncated it a bit. after i was done, i thought it would only take a couple of tweaks and one additional line to fit, but i kinda like it the way it is.
i think that's enough rambling for now...so i'm going to link in (probably somewhere in the 90's) and then head off to bed...night...
Wednesday, August 18, 2010
3 Transformation
deep in his bones he felt the time was near
the clock ticked like an itch he could not scratch
this burden he carried drove him crazy. burning with fear,
he drew in a breath thinking with a grimace of the impending rematch
the clock ticked. like an itch he could not scratch
he felt his muscles twitch out of his control
he drew in a breath. thinking, with a grimace, of the impending rematch
and the constant fight for his soul
he felt his muscles twitch. out of his control,
his body flung itself out of the chair;
and the constant fight for his soul
began. as he stumbled to his feet, he felt the despair
his body flung itself out of the chair
his reaction to the pull of the night's moon
began. as he stumbled to his feet, he felt the despair
from within--how he wished he were immune
his reaction to the pull of the night's moon--
that which conjured such pain--brought to his lips a cry
from within--how he wished he were immune
rather than cursed by the phase of the moon that would soon grace night sky
that which conjured such pain, brought to his lips a cry
as his body contorted and reshaped. he wished to be free
rather than cursed by the phase of the moon that would soon grace night sky.
he could feel the change from the poison no one could see
as his body contorted and reshaped, he wished to be free;
this burden he carried drove him crazy. burning with fear
he could feel the change from the poison no one could see
deep in his bones. he felt the time was near
in an attempt to continue to expand my horizons, challenge myself, and work outside of my comfort zone, i located a new avenue of inspiration. Three Word Wednesday (3WW) provided just the provocation. that coupled with playing with new poetic forms makes for some interesting results. [3WW=>grimace, phase, stumble(d)]
the clock ticked like an itch he could not scratch
this burden he carried drove him crazy. burning with fear,
he drew in a breath thinking with a grimace of the impending rematch
the clock ticked. like an itch he could not scratch
he felt his muscles twitch out of his control
he drew in a breath. thinking, with a grimace, of the impending rematch
and the constant fight for his soul
he felt his muscles twitch. out of his control,
his body flung itself out of the chair;
and the constant fight for his soul
began. as he stumbled to his feet, he felt the despair
his body flung itself out of the chair
his reaction to the pull of the night's moon
began. as he stumbled to his feet, he felt the despair
from within--how he wished he were immune
his reaction to the pull of the night's moon--
that which conjured such pain--brought to his lips a cry
from within--how he wished he were immune
rather than cursed by the phase of the moon that would soon grace night sky
that which conjured such pain, brought to his lips a cry
as his body contorted and reshaped. he wished to be free
rather than cursed by the phase of the moon that would soon grace night sky.
he could feel the change from the poison no one could see
as his body contorted and reshaped, he wished to be free;
this burden he carried drove him crazy. burning with fear
he could feel the change from the poison no one could see
deep in his bones. he felt the time was near
in an attempt to continue to expand my horizons, challenge myself, and work outside of my comfort zone, i located a new avenue of inspiration. Three Word Wednesday (3WW) provided just the provocation. that coupled with playing with new poetic forms makes for some interesting results. [3WW=>grimace, phase, stumble(d)]
Saturday, August 14, 2010
0 Torn Asunder
Who am I? I can't help but wonder
if there is more to me than I might see;
should I tare myself asunder
would I be able to set my hidden self free?
if there is more to me, than I might see
the point and the purpose of my existence;
would I be able to set my hidden self free
escaping the internal turmoil and resistance?
The point and the purpose of my existence
is this crazy mystery for me to solve;
escaping the internal turmoil and resistance,
is that how my life should revolve?
Is this crazy mystery for me to solve?
should I tare myself asunder?
is that how my life should revolve?
Who am I? I can't help but wonder.
if there is more to me than I might see;
should I tare myself asunder
would I be able to set my hidden self free?
if there is more to me, than I might see
the point and the purpose of my existence;
would I be able to set my hidden self free
escaping the internal turmoil and resistance?
The point and the purpose of my existence
is this crazy mystery for me to solve;
escaping the internal turmoil and resistance,
is that how my life should revolve?
Is this crazy mystery for me to solve?
should I tare myself asunder?
is that how my life should revolve?
Who am I? I can't help but wonder.
Saturday, August 7, 2010
0 My One Hundredth Post (Technically 97)
today's a special day
hitting 100 is really nice
technically 97, I must say
if you wish to be precise
hitting 100 is really nice
though not something I could have done alone
if you wish to be precise
I was never really on my own
though not something I could have done alone
every word was mine--inspired to write
I was never really on my own
it was a very hard fight
every word was mine--inspired to write
I struggled to find the words inside me
it was a very hard fight
trying to set the words free
I struggled to find the words inside me
yet I pressed on with my plight
trying to set the words free
guided by a love that still burns bright
yet I pressed on with my plight
ignoring the pressure and pain
guided by a love that still burns bright
I use the words to keep myself sane
ignoring the pressure and pain
making me feel like a hundred percent
I use the words to keep myself sane
after all that was their intent
making me feel like a hundred percent
technically 97, I must say
after all that was their intent
today's a special day
(This poem marks a special day. After seven months, I have hit the one hundred mark--not something I would have been able to do if not for a dream that asked me to rediscover the right side of my brain and the words that have not flown in quite some time. It only seemed fitting that I would challenge myself with yet a new poetic form. Hopefully I did not butcher this new form to badly, though I must say it was a fun one to work through.)
hitting 100 is really nice
technically 97, I must say
if you wish to be precise
hitting 100 is really nice
though not something I could have done alone
if you wish to be precise
I was never really on my own
though not something I could have done alone
every word was mine--inspired to write
I was never really on my own
it was a very hard fight
every word was mine--inspired to write
I struggled to find the words inside me
it was a very hard fight
trying to set the words free
I struggled to find the words inside me
yet I pressed on with my plight
trying to set the words free
guided by a love that still burns bright
yet I pressed on with my plight
ignoring the pressure and pain
guided by a love that still burns bright
I use the words to keep myself sane
ignoring the pressure and pain
making me feel like a hundred percent
I use the words to keep myself sane
after all that was their intent
making me feel like a hundred percent
technically 97, I must say
after all that was their intent
today's a special day
(This poem marks a special day. After seven months, I have hit the one hundred mark--not something I would have been able to do if not for a dream that asked me to rediscover the right side of my brain and the words that have not flown in quite some time. It only seemed fitting that I would challenge myself with yet a new poetic form. Hopefully I did not butcher this new form to badly, though I must say it was a fun one to work through.)
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