Monkeys with pocketbooks
Monkeys in top hats
Hats with feathers
Hats with big bows
Bows on presents
Bows in my hair
Hair done up in pigtails
Hair dye
Dye for easter eggs
Dye for t-shirts
T-shirts with funny sayings
T-shirts with a butterfly
Butterfly wings
Butterfly kisses
Kisses that seduce
Kisses that tickle
Tickle my feet
Tickle my toes
Toes digging into the sand
Toes painted red
Red fire engines
Red candied apples
Apples for dunking
Apples for pie
Pie filled with blackbirds
Pies filled with blueberries
Blueberries with little crowns
Blueberries staining my lips
Lips glossed with lipstick
Lips kissed raw
Raw meat
Raw feelings that bubble within
Within a hair's-breadth
Within the beat of a heart
Heart full of joy
Heart burdened with sadness
Sadness which is fleeting
Sadness that consumes
Consumes all in sight
Consumes every day and night
Night filled with passion
Night free of dreams
Dreams open the subconscious
Dreams of fields of flowers
Flowers tucked behind my ear
Flowers full of apologies
Apologies met with forgiveness
Apologies show remorse
Remorse
Forgiveness
Jingle Poetry's Poetry Potluck ["these are a few of my favorite things"] inspired me to try a new form...above is known as a blitz poem. i'm certain that some of my favorite things are twisted up in the poem above. it was an interesting write...not really something you can predict...more of something you just go with the flow of...
Showing posts with label ~jingle poetry potluck. Show all posts
Showing posts with label ~jingle poetry potluck. Show all posts
Monday, April 18, 2011
Monday, April 11, 2011
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].
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].
Tuesday, April 5, 2011
2 etched on my heart
like a photograph
your image is etched on my heart
that last breathing memory
holds fresh and raw
at times
i wish i could scrape it away
burn away the glisten trails
that grace my cheeks
and then
there are times
i wish i could be transported
back to that moment
wrap my arms around it
and never let go
that's all the tears that blur my vision will allow me to write...my heart feels there is still more to be said, but it's too tongue-tied at the moment.
created in response to Jingle Poetry's Poetry Potluck [photographs, memories, and nostalgia]...(i'm arriving a little late to the party, but i'm sure no one will mind too much.)
your image is etched on my heart
that last breathing memory
holds fresh and raw
at times
i wish i could scrape it away
burn away the glisten trails
that grace my cheeks
and then
there are times
i wish i could be transported
back to that moment
wrap my arms around it
and never let go
that's all the tears that blur my vision will allow me to write...my heart feels there is still more to be said, but it's too tongue-tied at the moment.
created in response to Jingle Poetry's Poetry Potluck [photographs, memories, and nostalgia]...(i'm arriving a little late to the party, but i'm sure no one will mind too much.)
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).
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).
Monday, March 21, 2011
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.
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.
Monday, March 14, 2011
7 Sweet Promises
when the world crashes in
there is but one way to make things right
decadent sweets do beckon me
with promises of a heavenly delight
in times of great despair
my heavy heart is set free
with promises of a heavenly delight
decadent sweets do beckon me
when loneliness set in
in the wee hours of the night
decadent sweets do beckon me
with promises of a heavenly delight
i find solace in simple pleasures
that dance on my taste buds full of glee
with promises of a heavenly delight
decadent sweets do beckon me
thought i'd toy with a new form of poetry...go figure i'd pick something which includes repetition. looking at some of my usual (free verse) writes, i have definitely found that i favor repetition, though it's not quite so easy to do when following a specific form. anyway, the form above is known as 'mirrored refrain'. and this particular piece was inspired by Jingle Poetry's Poetry Potluck [food, drink, and indulgence].
there is but one way to make things right
decadent sweets do beckon me
with promises of a heavenly delight
in times of great despair
my heavy heart is set free
with promises of a heavenly delight
decadent sweets do beckon me
when loneliness set in
in the wee hours of the night
decadent sweets do beckon me
with promises of a heavenly delight
i find solace in simple pleasures
that dance on my taste buds full of glee
with promises of a heavenly delight
decadent sweets do beckon me
thought i'd toy with a new form of poetry...go figure i'd pick something which includes repetition. looking at some of my usual (free verse) writes, i have definitely found that i favor repetition, though it's not quite so easy to do when following a specific form. anyway, the form above is known as 'mirrored refrain'. and this particular piece was inspired by Jingle Poetry's Poetry Potluck [food, drink, and indulgence].
Sunday, March 6, 2011
5 Quinzaine: Role Models
#1
The future depends on us.
Will we be worthy
role models?
#2
They're eyes see all that we do.
Can we be better?
Should we care?
#3
They idolize who you are.
Should you be careful
how you act?
#4
They look up to you with awe.
Do you deserve it?
Are you true?
these four quinzaines were written in response to Jingle Poetry's Poetry Potluck [Idols, Role Models, and Mentors]. was a tad trickier fitting this theme with this form, but technically i find anything with syllable restrictions to be a bit of a challenge.
The future depends on us.
Will we be worthy
role models?
#2
They're eyes see all that we do.
Can we be better?
Should we care?
#3
They idolize who you are.
Should you be careful
how you act?
#4
They look up to you with awe.
Do you deserve it?
Are you true?
these four quinzaines were written in response to Jingle Poetry's Poetry Potluck [Idols, Role Models, and Mentors]. was a tad trickier fitting this theme with this form, but technically i find anything with syllable restrictions to be a bit of a challenge.
Sunday, February 27, 2011
10 a real superpower
He watched her carefully
and wondered
how no one else saw it
it didn't take someone with superpowers
like him
to see the truth that took shape
before his eyes
Sure he was a superhero
man of Kevlar
they sometimes called him
steel being taken by Superman
iron being owned by Iron Man
bulletproof belonging to a long line of monks
regardless the dorky title
his speed could not be match and
his strength could not be equaled
but she had something far greater
something so amazing
that she was his crux
his Louis Lane
his Meredith McCall
his Jade
regardless her perceived lack of superpower
she could soothe a crying child
she could bring a smile to the saddest of hearts
she could heal the soul of those she touched
the truth of the matter was
she had the most amazing superpower of all
her heart
and with it
she had managed to uncover his Achilles' heel
and steal his heart
this tale was inspired by Jingle Poetry's Poetry Potluck [Cartoons, Sci-fi, and Super Powers]. if it isn't obvious i spoke to the superpower part of the theme. first i thought i might write about a super power i would like to have, but i guess somewhere in there i kind of thought that in a way, we all have buried within us an amazing superpower that has the potential to heal those around us...if we choose to use it that is...
and wondered
how no one else saw it
it didn't take someone with superpowers
like him
to see the truth that took shape
before his eyes
Sure he was a superhero
man of Kevlar
they sometimes called him
steel being taken by Superman
iron being owned by Iron Man
bulletproof belonging to a long line of monks
regardless the dorky title
his speed could not be match and
his strength could not be equaled
but she had something far greater
something so amazing
that she was his crux
his Louis Lane
his Meredith McCall
his Jade
regardless her perceived lack of superpower
she could soothe a crying child
she could bring a smile to the saddest of hearts
she could heal the soul of those she touched
the truth of the matter was
she had the most amazing superpower of all
her heart
and with it
she had managed to uncover his Achilles' heel
and steal his heart
this tale was inspired by Jingle Poetry's Poetry Potluck [Cartoons, Sci-fi, and Super Powers]. if it isn't obvious i spoke to the superpower part of the theme. first i thought i might write about a super power i would like to have, but i guess somewhere in there i kind of thought that in a way, we all have buried within us an amazing superpower that has the potential to heal those around us...if we choose to use it that is...
Sunday, February 6, 2011
6 Reference Call
What three words
would you use to describe him?
Driven
like a nascar racer
engine full-throttle
one single goal in mind
edging close to inside of the track
constantly looking for the opening
and the checkered flag
Loyal
like a Doberman Pinscher
honed, intelligent, and aggressive
one single focus in mind
keeping a close eye on its territory
constantly on the alert
and ready to protect and serve
Go-Getter
like a bounty hunter
trained and armed
one single aim in mind
itching to get close to its prey
constantly vigilant
and looking for his pay day
His greatest strength?
He knows what he wants
and he's not afraid
to go after it
His greatest weakness?
He has two
kyrptonite
and a full moon.
Your recommendation?
If you're looking to move up in the world,
interested in material goods and wealth,
willing to contend with late nights and lonely dinners,
he's your man.
If you're looking to be given the moon, stars and skies,
interested in being pampered and doted on,
hoping to wined and dined late into the night,
marry someone else.
i have no idea from whence this came...it loosely fits the theme that inspired it from Jingle Poetry's Poetry Potluck [Aims, Goals, and Ambitions]. but it was fun to write. i can't quite explain the weaknesses part except, during my brief research i came across the top ten worst interview questions and they gave the witty answer i admittingly stole. and if i ever go on an interview again and get asked that question i will probably forget to steal it again... maybe i'll sift through some of my older posts to see if i can find a more suited piece or maybe i'll be inspired yet again...who knows...
would you use to describe him?
Driven
like a nascar racer
engine full-throttle
one single goal in mind
edging close to inside of the track
constantly looking for the opening
and the checkered flag
Loyal
like a Doberman Pinscher
honed, intelligent, and aggressive
one single focus in mind
keeping a close eye on its territory
constantly on the alert
and ready to protect and serve
Go-Getter
like a bounty hunter
trained and armed
one single aim in mind
itching to get close to its prey
constantly vigilant
and looking for his pay day
His greatest strength?
He knows what he wants
and he's not afraid
to go after it
His greatest weakness?
He has two
kyrptonite
and a full moon.
Your recommendation?
If you're looking to move up in the world,
interested in material goods and wealth,
willing to contend with late nights and lonely dinners,
he's your man.
If you're looking to be given the moon, stars and skies,
interested in being pampered and doted on,
hoping to wined and dined late into the night,
marry someone else.
i have no idea from whence this came...it loosely fits the theme that inspired it from Jingle Poetry's Poetry Potluck [Aims, Goals, and Ambitions]. but it was fun to write. i can't quite explain the weaknesses part except, during my brief research i came across the top ten worst interview questions and they gave the witty answer i admittingly stole. and if i ever go on an interview again and get asked that question i will probably forget to steal it again... maybe i'll sift through some of my older posts to see if i can find a more suited piece or maybe i'll be inspired yet again...who knows...
Sunday, January 30, 2011
8 Methods to Soothe Raging Emotions: Music Echoes
the war has begun deep within me
a battle i wage endlessly
risen from the ashes of my fears
it rages forth with no provocation
and pummels me tirelessly
when it hits i have only one recourse
one simple weapon at my disposal
>>|
(skip)
>>|
(skip)
music begins to soar through the air
a mission for the perfect song
composed to match my raging emotions
a beat--a rhythm--a vibration
to sync with the struggle that ensues
the perfect string of notes
that ebb and flow with the tidal wave within me
>>|
(skip)
>>|
(skip)
the song echoes through my body
a rampant army of notes
that sing in harmony with my inner turmoil
the beat courses through my veins
melding with the rage that wishes to consume me
and ever so slowly
pulls me back to the calm surface
pulls me back to the calm surface
i find myself as of late far from a place of relaxation and peace. and next to impossible to conjure them up for this weeks Jingle Poetry's Poetry Potluck [Peace, Relaxation, and Spirituality]. so, in this second attempt at meeting the theme, i find myself down a twisting and winding path. your call on whether it hits the mark...
in this state, i find myself relying on a trusted friend (music) and an old poem (Methods to Soothe Raging Emotions). this particular poem delves a little more into the impact music has on soothing my soul...and helping me find some form of peace...as temporary as it may be.
oh, and in case you are wondering...the musical notes spell out "music echoes."
Friday, January 28, 2011
6 forgive me
it has been a long and trying week; i took this theme down a path it was not expecting to go (nor i'm sure that it wished to go). but this letting of words has always been my salvation; it pulls from my mind, body and soul all of the toxins that threaten to overpower. so please forgive me the turn i have taken here (in anticipation of Jingle Poetry's Poetry Potluck [Peace, Relaxation, and Spirituality]).
Forgive Me
why did You make me?
what purpose could it possible serve?
was i the punchline to some joke?
was i the result of a lost wager?
were You intoxicated? drunk of Your ass?
am i the pawn is some twisted game?
are You waiting to see how long i'll play
before being sacrificed?
why did You make me like this?
cursed with selflessness, when all i wish is to be selfish;
boiling in constant turmoil, when all i wish for is tranquility;
burdened with endless pain, when all i wish is for peace.
i've checked the footprints in the sand,
there's only one set;
i've measured them,
their breadth, width and depth,
and they are mine, and mine alone.
all of this You have given me
this burden i carry alone
and still
i believe
still
i am filled with hope
still
i push forward praying
for the day i'll find balance
praying
that i'll finally understand
praying
that it is all worth it.
and i suppose that at least
i have that to be thankful to You for.
but You must forgive me,
because You've made it very hard for me
to be thankful
to You.
this poem haunts me in a way i cannot explain. part of me wishes to wash it away. delete it as though it never was. i find myself struggling with its existence...odd when you consider that it speaks to my understanding of my own existence... maybe my problem isn't with the poem so much as the opening up for others to see. i'm torn...erase from existence, hide away from the world and myself, or let go...
Forgive Me
why did You make me?
what purpose could it possible serve?
was i the punchline to some joke?
was i the result of a lost wager?
were You intoxicated? drunk of Your ass?
am i the pawn is some twisted game?
are You waiting to see how long i'll play
before being sacrificed?
why did You make me like this?
cursed with selflessness, when all i wish is to be selfish;
boiling in constant turmoil, when all i wish for is tranquility;
burdened with endless pain, when all i wish is for peace.
i've checked the footprints in the sand,
there's only one set;
i've measured them,
their breadth, width and depth,
and they are mine, and mine alone.
all of this You have given me
this burden i carry alone
and still
i believe
still
i am filled with hope
still
i push forward praying
for the day i'll find balance
praying
that i'll finally understand
praying
that it is all worth it.
and i suppose that at least
i have that to be thankful to You for.
but You must forgive me,
because You've made it very hard for me
to be thankful
to You.
this poem haunts me in a way i cannot explain. part of me wishes to wash it away. delete it as though it never was. i find myself struggling with its existence...odd when you consider that it speaks to my understanding of my own existence... maybe my problem isn't with the poem so much as the opening up for others to see. i'm torn...erase from existence, hide away from the world and myself, or let go...
Sunday, January 23, 2011
11 Our Hearts' Refrain (Revisited)
| we were forbidden to speak forbidden to meet one another's gaze but what stolen glances could not sustain our bodies spoke our hearts' refrain | |
we are ruled by archaic laws laws created to keep bloodlines pure pure of the taint our union would bring | |
we were forbidden to touch forbidden to dance in one another's arms but what stolen glances could not sustain our bodies spoke our hearts' refrain | |
we are ruled by our hearts hearts that refused to bend bend to the elitests' views of lineage lineage we would dilute with our coupling | |
we were forbidden to meet forbidden to be alone with one another but what stolen glances could not sustain our bodies spoke our hearts' refrain | |
we are ruled by our love love that grew from our hearts' desires desires that knew nothing of ancient laws | |
we were forbidden to love forbidden to share our lives with one another but what stolen glances could not sustain our bodies spoke our hearts' refrain | |
we are ruled by truth truth that our destiny is ours' alone alone for us to choose and follow follow to the ends of the earth together | |
i let it stew for a bit (see original Our Hearts' Refrain)...in the end i embedded four additional stanzas using a variation on loop poetry...the four new stanzas could too probably stand on their own...i can't decide if i should let them stand together or separate them into their own entities. for now i'll let them blend...
while inspired by Jingle Poetry's Poetry Potluck [Language, Signs, and Signals], it did not ripen in time for this past Monday's post...strangely enough, i think it might still fit with this upcoming Poetry Potluck [Rules, Regulations, and Laws], we'll have to see if it ferments in time...
0 Our Hearts' Refrain
 |
| Two Hearts Rising (image by rmp, that's me) |
forbidden to meet one another's gaze
but what stolen glances could not sustain
our bodies spoke our hearts' refrain
...
we were forbidden to touch
forbidden to dance in one another's arms
but what stolen glances could not sustain
our bodies spoke our hearts' refrain
...
we were forbidden to meet
forbidden to be alone with one another
but what stolen glances could not sustain
our bodies spoke our hearts' refrain
...
we were forbidden to love
forbidden to share our lives with one another
but what stolen glances could not sustain
our bodies spoke our hearts' refrain
i'm torn between posting this now or waiting and letting it stew for a bit. part of me feels it can stand alone as is, but another part of me feels the need to fill in the untold story...i just haven't quite put my finger on what that story is...so for the moment it will stand as is...though i have a feeling i'll be revisiting it shortly...
while inspired by Jingle Poetry's Poetry Potluck [Language, Signs, and Signals], it did not ripen in time for this past Monday's post...strangely enough, i think it might still fit with this upcoming Poetry Potluck [Rules, Regulations, and Laws], we'll have to see if it ferments in time...
Sunday, January 16, 2011
9 A Rose on the Pillow
I wake to a rose on the pillow
its fragrance greets me
like an old trusted friend
I drink in the mixture of its scent and his
and drift back to last night
reveling in the warmth of his body
as it curls next to mine
I'm torn
between dragging the rose to my nose
or burying my face in the pillow to explore his scent
I settle for the rose
his way of saying thank you
and more
we have many of these
little gestures
our own special language that gets us through
all of our ups and downs
he takes off his tie and sticks it in his jacket pocket
to tell me he's been thinking of me
he brings me a beer when he means to say he's sorry
and kisses me like a thirsty man when he forgives me
he traces "I 'heart' U" on the palm of my hand
and on the small of my back
so many tiny little signs that are solely ours
that the outside world cannot understand
I breathe in the scent of the rose
and wish that they all could see
I want to shout it from the roof tops
and post it on billboards
I want them to feel the strength of our love
but I know that will never happen
because I wake to a rose on the pillow
and she wakes next to him
this creation was inspired by Jingle Poetry's Poetry Potluck [Languages, Signs, and Symbols]. the picture of the rose popped into my head almost immediately, so I went with it...where it lead was a bit unexpected, but that seems to be happening to me lately...
its fragrance greets me
like an old trusted friend
I drink in the mixture of its scent and his
and drift back to last night
reveling in the warmth of his body
as it curls next to mine
I'm torn
between dragging the rose to my nose
or burying my face in the pillow to explore his scent
I settle for the rose
his way of saying thank you
and more
we have many of these
little gestures
our own special language that gets us through
all of our ups and downs
he takes off his tie and sticks it in his jacket pocket
to tell me he's been thinking of me
he brings me a beer when he means to say he's sorry
and kisses me like a thirsty man when he forgives me
he traces "I 'heart' U" on the palm of my hand
and on the small of my back
so many tiny little signs that are solely ours
that the outside world cannot understand
I breathe in the scent of the rose
and wish that they all could see
I want to shout it from the roof tops
and post it on billboards
I want them to feel the strength of our love
but I know that will never happen
because I wake to a rose on the pillow
and she wakes next to him
this creation was inspired by Jingle Poetry's Poetry Potluck [Languages, Signs, and Symbols]. the picture of the rose popped into my head almost immediately, so I went with it...where it lead was a bit unexpected, but that seems to be happening to me lately...
Tuesday, January 11, 2011
4 winds of change
i can taste the winds of change
tangy, sweet, and tart
pulling me forward with a promise
of a future heavy with possibilities
tiny morsels flavored with pleasure
encased in their own juiciness
tangy, sweet, and tart
the future holds the power
to tantalize each and every taste bud
with small tiny bursts of deliciousness
mixed with the occasional puckering
i have no idea how to express (in this medium) the thoughts i wish to get across. in short i see the future filled with many moments and possibilities. we look at the future as one solid entity, but really it is composed of a multitude of events and non-events, once that make us happy, ones that make us said, ones that make us angry.... i see the pomegranate like the future. on the outside it appears to be one simple fruit, but on the inside its filled with seed. each seed is encased in its own juicy meat, like a littler kernel. Individually they have their own flavor, some are sweet, some are tart, some are tangy. but together, they create a tasty treat. i'd like to think that in the long run the future is an overall pleasurable entity, i'm not sure that psycho babble is any clearer, but...
the seed for this poem was planted by Jingle Poetry's Poetry Potluck - Journey and the Road Ahead. not so sure it hits the mark, but things have a way of growing and thriving to a tune of their own.
tangy, sweet, and tart
pulling me forward with a promise
of a future heavy with possibilities
tiny morsels flavored with pleasure
like the pomegranate
filled with a plethora of tiny seedsencased in their own juiciness
tangy, sweet, and tart
the future holds the power
to tantalize each and every taste bud
with small tiny bursts of deliciousness
mixed with the occasional puckering
i have no idea how to express (in this medium) the thoughts i wish to get across. in short i see the future filled with many moments and possibilities. we look at the future as one solid entity, but really it is composed of a multitude of events and non-events, once that make us happy, ones that make us said, ones that make us angry.... i see the pomegranate like the future. on the outside it appears to be one simple fruit, but on the inside its filled with seed. each seed is encased in its own juicy meat, like a littler kernel. Individually they have their own flavor, some are sweet, some are tart, some are tangy. but together, they create a tasty treat. i'd like to think that in the long run the future is an overall pleasurable entity, i'm not sure that psycho babble is any clearer, but...
the seed for this poem was planted by Jingle Poetry's Poetry Potluck - Journey and the Road Ahead. not so sure it hits the mark, but things have a way of growing and thriving to a tune of their own.
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