7 Last Call: I See Myself in Black & White

It's time to step out of the darkness;
dust off this cloak of shadows;
unfurl these dormant wings intent on flying.

Too long I've been surrounded
by brilliant colors unable
to feel their sweet caress as
they poke at me so eager
to wrap me in their warmth, but
they bounce off me like ping-pongs.

It's time to step into the sunlight;
enrobe myself in lustrous colors;
awaken all that lies within me.

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An Aside:  As stated in my tagline for ...don't open...don't throw away..., the purpose of this blog was/is to release the toxins that build up within me.  Since the start of this year, I have been feeling as though I have become too buried in my own head; I needed to escape myself.  I think that is one of the reasons I started a new blog.  I think it was a smart move; I've tapped into somethings that I might otherwise have not done. To be honest, getting outside of myself has been quite liberating (and taxing).   

In making the decision, I was hesitant to completely shut things down here.  I still have plenty of poisons seeping through my veins that need to be expelled.  So, I decided to cut down here to posting for two events:  dVerse Poets Pub's OpenLinkNight and on the last Wednesday of the month for Three Word Wednesday.  But an odd thing happened....  I missed a week.  Then I typed up this piece and posted it with the intent of sharing last week.  After about ten minutes of it sitting out there in cyberspace, I realized that I couldn't do it.  So I took it down.  That didn't stop me from visiting those brave souls who week after week step through the pub doors, but I couldn't bring myself to the stage. I think I have finally come to the conclusion that (at least for awhile) I'm tired of fighting my "stage fright."  

So while I will continue on the rare occasion to add my voice, for now I think I'll stick with just enjoying an amazing selection of poetry offered up by others.

Anyway, I think I've rambled enough...

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This is my silent contribution to 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.

14 Quieting the Silence

I'm grasping at straws
as words slip
unseen through fingers.

I cannot sit here
lined paper
just laughing at me.

I grab my pencil
awaken
the muse within me.

Words finally pour
drowning out
the blank page's taunts.

---

I thought it might be fun to toy a bit more with the lune -- more specifically the Kelly Lune.  The last (and first) time I worked with both the Kelly lune and Collum lune, creating a pairing on the same topic.  With this go around I thought I'd try a string of lunes that (might) alone stand as independent poems, but linked to tell a story of sorts.

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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.

6 Last Call: What Will Become of Our Words?

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What Will Become of Our Words?

The waiting is over, but
what have we lost in the process?

where are our word?

when time meant something,
our words abounded
desperate to close the gap
of space and time.

(now) we converse in clips & phrases
whittled down to an alpha-numeric code
creating for the future an ancient dialect
only a few will be skilled to translate.

where are our words?
                our love?
                our passion?
                our essence?

when distance made the heart grow fonder
our words poured like rain
down from the heavens
nourishing and grounding our roots.

(now) we connect with little connection
our fingers caress sleek metallic bodies
spreading words across a shrinking world
as a chasm grows between us and those next to us.

where are our words?

(now) we catch glimpses of the past
in faded tissue-thin tear-stained letters
correspondences that lived and breathed
with precious words -- words unfolded,
read, caressed, smelled, smeared
time and time again.

someday our words will be unbound
by a double-click, as pristine and
untouched as the day they were sent;
no stories hidden in their creases
or the letters bled with tears,
just words -- clips & phrases.

where are our words?
                our beauty?
                our passion?
                our selves?

when touch could be invoked
with each physical-tangible
unfolding word, distance and
time meant nothing.

(now) we communicate in zeros & ones
relying on the single sense of sight
where words alone must invoke
more than they ever needed to before.

where are our words?

---

An Aside:  I can't recall exactly when, but sometime ago I read a poem by Brian Miller.  While commenting, I pondered the following, "what will become of the letters that bleed with tears?"  I tucked this little thought away in my notebook figuring eventually I would come back to it.  Eventually I did, though not as I had expected; I wrote a short poem, Faded Memories (Ribbon-Bound Letters).  It in no way shape or form held within it the original essence of my pondering.  While still not 100% where I thought it might lead, this piece here definitely does a better job at capturing what I first felt.

An (Aside) Aside:  I was originally going to make my pondering the title of this poem, but I don't know...it didn't quite feel right in the end.

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I'm ahead of schedule once again, but...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.

4 Last Call: Tumor Vision

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Tumor Vision

Busy casino carpets should be just that,
an array of visual designs intended to stir
the bustling atmosphere — NOT
a twisted version of Munch's "The Scream"
head burning in hellish flames.

I so long for the artist's hand
to sketch out what only my eyes seem to see.

Dark volcanic clouds should be just that,
billowing plums of smoke and ash
casting an ominous fear — NOT
a demon awakening from a long slumber
intent on destruction and death.

I so long for the artist's hand
to outline what only my eyes seem to see.

Bird poop on a car window should be just that,
a disgusting nuisance foretelling good luck
that should be wiped away — NOT
a mustached man wearing a bearskin hat
standing guard at the window.


I so long for the artist's hand;
I itch to unearth these visions — unseen,
to breathe life into them with a skillful hand,
in turn distilling the crazy notion
that (a)
I'm crazy and (b)
there's a tumor
pressing on my brain.

Oh, how I long for the artist's hand.

---

Is it just me....  Or can you see what I see?

For some reason most people I've asked see an owl.
(image by rmp, that's me)

photo taken by Martin Rietze
(http://www.mrietze.com/)

Mustached Man in Bearskin Hat
(image by rmp, that's me)

---

An Aside:  Photo #2 also inspired a poem called, Volcanic Eruptions (which can be found on my new blog). The post also includes a version of the image where I attempt to point out the demon in all of his glory.

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I'm ahead of schedule this week, but...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.

18 Last Call: (Poet) On a Microscopic Level

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(Poet) On a Microscopic Level

I'm an open wound
stitched together – painstakingly so –
word by word;
each pull of the needle,
a cross-stitchers heaven,
delicately weaving a collage of colors,
textures, fibers, patterns
meant to hold me together.

From a distance, I'm seamless,
but if you could see inside my words...
there you'd find the key – the secret –
to unraveling me.

---

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.

13 Last Call: Crumbling Within

Crumbling Within

Just the thought of a hug
stirs an emotional rock slide
threatening to unravel
the carefully woven shield
surrounding the loss
yet to be dealt with.

It's a mistake
keeping it buried within
but the only remedy
that ever worked to clear
away the looming boulders
was the feel of your arms
wrapped around me.

---

I was hoping to try to escape myself for a little bit, try to find something outside of me to write about...something random like traffic lights.  But this week's Three Word Wednesday [3WW=>careful(ly), hug, mistake] seemed to have something else in mind.  Odd though, because I look at the words (even read them aloud several dozen times) and I do feel disconnected.  Maybe that is more about the emotions rolling around than the actual poem, but at the moment I'll be truthful and say I don't much care for this piece...maybe time will change that...

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I've decided to double up this week and so ...

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.

9 Last Call: Methods to Soothe Raging Emotions: Seething & Breathing

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Methods to Soothe Raging Emotions: Seething & Breathing

I'm still alive, but I'm barely breathing;
I've been practicing slow intakes all week—
In----n---Out      In----n---Out     is of no help.

Still I search for that equilibrium

to still the emotions that are seething.

I am beginning to feel like a freak—

a statue shutting out the world around

as I've practiced slowly breathing all week,

but the world just pushes back pound by pound;

so each breath In----n---Out is of no help.

I find it impossible to rebound;

still I search for that equilibrium,

itching to stand once more on solid ground.

I long to wake from this delirium—

to still the emotions that are seething.

I'm beginning to feel like a freak

with each breath In----n---Out.  I just can't help

loosing myself to this delirium.

I'm still alive, but I'm barely breathing.

---

My mind is racing with so many thoughts and amazingly they seem to all be focused on this piece—so maybe breathing wasn't the answer and writing was...

#1 — The first line of this poem is from a song.  From the moment I heard the song, I was addicted to this line far beyond the confines of the song.  It held its own meaning for me that had absolutely nothing to do with the lyrics themselves.  Still the song itself has also inspired two poems (Uneven and—without realizing I did this—Uneven) that have made their way here through my Friday's theme, Can I Have This Dance?.  [FYI:  The song is Breakeven (Falling to Pieces) by The Script.]

#2 — When I went in search of the title for this piece I got caught on the words seething and emotions.  This led me to think of a series I've developed here (which I recently rehashed on a Sunday for my theme Time Capsule).  Though the series is called Methods to Soothe Raging Emotions, I could hear word seething stealing the place of raging.  Even though the majority of the series has focused on music, it took little for me to decide it would be a good addition because the original poem also speaks toward breathing.  

#3 — This is my fourth exploration in expanding my original form of nota.  While I still like the original version, there is something about this "expanded" version that feels like a better entity.  

An Aside:  I am going to admit for those of you who choose to listen to this piece that I have a very bad habit of recording and not listening back to the recording.  (I don't particularly care much for the sound of my voice.)  So if there are any anomalies, you'll know why I posted it with them in it...

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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.

9 Last Call: PURGE

PURGE

erase

get rid of

a pale face flickers

as naughty pictures doused

blaze--a relationship ends

"burn away lingering evils."

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It is the last Wednesday of the month and with that comes another union of Three Word Wednesday [3WW=>douse, naughty, pale] and the clarity pyramid.  I'm not too fond of homophones.  I had something in my mind until I realized that it was pale and not pail.  I had to do some rearranging; I'm not 100% happy with the results, but...

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I've decided to double up this week and so ...

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.

6 Last Call: Stealing Shadows

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Stealing Shadows

In the shadows of who I long to be,
I stand waiting for you to take my hand;
steel my fears, so I might finally shine
and rejoice in the warmth of light's sweet kiss.
There's so much in me longing to break free!

Yet here I am wandering in this wasteland,
consumed by darkness both inside and out,
blindly searching for you to take my hand.

It's naive of me to think you'll wipe away doubt--
stealing my fears.  Oh how I long to shine,
unearthing the me striving to break out.

and rejoice in the warmth of light's sweet kiss.
Still the darkness muffles my cries and shouts.
I'm scared I shall live forever like this.

There is so much in me longing to break free,
but I'm lost, wandering this wasteland.
Fears steal my will making it hard to shine.
I'm scared I will forever live like this
in the shadows of who I long to be.

---

This one took quite some effort.  Although part of that would be due to an overwhelming amount of work-related stress stealing my motivation to do much more than focus on breathing.  I started this on Monday in the hopes of making it into dVerse Poets Pub by Tuesday.  I finished about a third of it (though given the repetition of lines that isn't saying much).  Tuesday, unfortunately, disappeared from me leaving me to finish it today.  I'm impressed I managed to make it in before last call.  It's actually been awhile since I made my way through the doors this late.  Although I am quite familiar with taking the stage so late.  I think I actually prided myself in doing so.  

This particular expanded nota sprouts from a pom seed.

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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.

15 Last Call: Love's Allure

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Love's Allure

Love is pain and sorrow wrapped in disguise;
I hear its sweet whispers calling to me.
"Come to me my dear.  Love is all you need."
And every time I fall into its trap,
it laughs at me with its seductive lies.

For far too long my heart has run carefree
unwilling to be tamed--that is until
I heard your sweet whispers calling to me.

With your enchanting words my world did still.
"Come my darling; my love is all you'll need."
Ensnared by this intoxicating thrill--

so easily--I fell into your trap.
I bared all of me and you drank your fill
then pulled back leaving my heartstrings to snap.

Love laughs at me with those seductive lies
knowing my heart has longed to be set free.
So softly, love calls, "I am all you need!"
then tugs waiting for my heartstrings to snap.
Love is pain and sorrow wrapped in disguise.

---

Inspiration for this piece comes from a pom seed written quite some time ago.  Due to syllable count, I had to modify it slightly (replacing intoxicating with seductive), but I did manage to get my original word back into the piece in another spot.

This is the second time I've toyed with the expanded nota.  I'm not really sold on this piece.  Not 100% sure what exactly bugs me.  I think part of it might be that the first and last stanza address love as a whole, while I chose to have the middle sections focus on a specific someone.  I'm not sure they blend so well.  I'll have to think on it, but for now it is what it is.

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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.

11 Last Call: Burning Flame

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Burning Flame

candlelight flickers
     flick(flick)flickers
casting me in shadows

my core projected
across the ground
mocks me.  its silent
full-body laugh
surrounded by golden hues
emulates my everyday existence--
shedding light on the truth.

When will I let the love in?

---

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.

9 Last Call: Embodying Her (Embracing Myself)

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Embodying Her (Embracing Myself)

she wades through my dreams just out of reach--
a dancer in the shadows of my grief.
I'm not sure how long she'll wait there for me
to realize the beauty I possess
while I struggle with a heart I can't breach.

Every once and again I catch a brief
glimpse of the person I'm supposed to be;
she dances in the shadows of my grief

bound to the darkness--longing to break free.
I wonder how long she'll wait there for me?
Full of pure love, she implores me to see

the amazing beauty that I possess--
dares me to embrace all that I should be
if I banish fear to love's sweet caress.

As I struggle with this heart I can't breach,
every once and again I feel a brief
ray of hope knowing she waits there for me.
Still I fear I'll never feel love's caress
for she wades through my dreams out of reach.

---

I realize this rambling probably will make no sense to anyone but me, still....

The other day while in the car (go figure, that is where all my harebrained ideas come from) I got to thinking about the nota (an invented form...because I was bored and have a thing for repetition).  Something about it being fourteen lines nagged at me and I wondered if it would be possible to expand it.  With my driving-hazed mind, I could picture the potential for adding the two additional lines with their repeating in the middle stanza.  Of course, when it actually came to putting it together I realized the patterned for the initial two middle stanzas didn't lend itself well to the expansion.  It did not take me long to puzzle through the issue and uncover a solution.  The additional line in the first stanza (technically #3) could be repeated not twice, but three times and surrounded in the middle stanza by the rhyme from the center of the other two triplets.  On a side note it was just coincidental that the non-repeating line rhymes also rhymed with the middle line of the first/last stanza.  

For those who can follow the pattern is such (with 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)...

A1-B1-E1-C1-A2 / B2-d-B1 / d-E1-d / C1-d-C2 / A2-B2-E1-C2-A1 

I decided not to throw off my original lettering, just added in the repeating line with E, which works well seeing as how this is an "expanded" nota.

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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.

13 Last Call: Laughter Times Three

Breathless Laughter

a small laugh at first
erupts into so much more
tears spill from laughter
as the world twists out of shape
it’s so hard to catch my breath

---

Paint a Laugh

what does a laugh look like
as it floats on air
planting a seed in one’s heart
i imagine a white puff
like dandelion seeds
floating on the breeze
planting a seed in one’s heart

---

All It Takes

her fluttering laugh
that bursts from her lips
like a magical stream of bubbles

her floating dance
that flows from within
moving to a rhythm only she hears

her twinkling smile
that brightens her face
lighting up the world around her

her willful independence
that sparkles in her eyes
brings a smile to my lips everytime

her laugh, her dance, her smile
that’s all it takes
from this precious little girl
to inspire joy within me

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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.

6 Last Call: In a Heartbeat

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In a Heartbeat

You fall in love
You breathe in
In the blink of an eye
In a matter of seconds
Seconds fly by
Seconds seem to last forever
Forever isn't long enough
Forever scares you to death
Death is evaded
Death becomes a reality
Reality bites
Reality dissolve into fears
Fears are breathed away
Fears take you by surprise
Surprise tares through your soul
Surprise awakens the real you
You see yourself in some else
You collapse in a fit of tears
Tears of sorrow
Tears of joy
Joy walks out the door
Joy brightens your days
Days last forever
Days fade into memories
Memories are made
Memories are lost
Lost to the world
Lost moments
Moments capture your heart
Moments give you pause
Pause the tv and listen
Pause your life
Life is meant to be lived
Life waits for no one
One is a lonely number
One with "I do"
Do take chances
Do not wait
Wait on me
Wait your turn
Turn around
Turn to me in time of need
Need me
Need overpowers wants
Wants toy with emotions
Wants quicken heartbeats
Heartbeats still
Heartbeats sync together
Together
Still

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An Aside:  The above is a blitz poem that I actually started about a year and a half ago.  The problem was that I wrote the title before the poem--the title is derived from specific lines in the poem.  So I ended up stopping 3rd and Goal with 5 lines to go.  Somehow (I could explain it but I'm sure you'd prefer not),  I found my way back to it and managed to run the last few yards.

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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.

14 Last Call: Full House--Multiples Increase with IVF

two of a kind = a vacant house
a pair -- no more,
but still
enough
to ante up.
After the first flop
concern stirs within
as eyes too focused on the turn
almost miss
the tiny embryos of hope
planted there
forcing an all-in praying that the river
unearths a winning hand --
three of a kind.

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Doubling "down" again this week with Three Word Wednesday [3WW=>focused, pair, vacant] and dVerse Poets Pub ~ OpenLinkNight.

7 Last Call: Poetic Siege

nagging words pace
along idle fingertips
itching for peace to descend

blinking cursor laughs
at the empty battlefield
armed and ready to bleed black

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An Aside: Working off my phone, so I have limited functionality. I'll add in links tomorrow when I have access to a computer with Internet.

A Form Aside: This is a take on the sedōka, an ancient Japanese form dating back to the choka and tanka; it is composed of two katauta [5/7/7]. When I first came across this form (on ShadowPoetry.com), it was mentioned that the form "may address the same subject from different perspectives." I've always liked that idea.

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Doubling up this week with Three Word Wednesday [3WW=>idle, nagging, pace] and dVerse Poets Pub ~ OpenLinkNight.  

7 Last Call: HONE

HONE

polish

cultivate

limber fingers move

deftly 'cross wires as

time threatens to detonate

"tedious practice sharpens skills."

---

I know all of you over at Three Word Wednesday wait with bated breath for the last Wednesday of the month when I attempt to compose a clarity pyramid out of three words [3WW=detonate, limber tedious].  It took a bit of effort, but it did come together in the end.  Part of me was hoping to find a way to incorporate the explosive theme into the last line, but with just eight syllables its not such an easy task.

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With the holiday, I've decided to double up this week and so (while not much of a holiday piece)...

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.

4 Last Call: OTN

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OTN (outside the norm)

So long I have been
a dodecahedron
trying to shave off
my edges to fit
into a spherical world.

I'm worn down and
tired of trying to fit
when really all I long
for is to stand out.

But I'm bound by
some idea of what's
normal and the fear
of stepping out of
the shadows cast
by my own insecurities.

Expectations push in
on me from all directions
and disappointment in
me keeps me from
pushing back.

I so long to be
me, whomever that is.

I so long to walk
outside the norm.

---

An Aside:  It really is amazing how the mind can travel from one idea to another.  I rather not ramble on too much today so let's just say:  Dream => Batman => Crazy Criminals => Prison => Asylum => "outside the norm" => this poem.  (and no I do not relate in anyway shape or form to the individuals--fictional or not--from Batman.)

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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.

14 Last Call: Sweet Silence

An Aside:  My initial intent for using twitter was to jot down little ideas (I like to call them pom seeds) that could blossom into something more.  It's grown a bit since then to also include short verses (haiku, tanka, septolet, etc.) and unfortunately less pom seeds.  Anyway, it took one particular pom seed just over a month and a half to grow into what I had envisioned when I first tweeted it (a poem called Sweet Sweet Silence).  What was interesting about this particular seed was the potential it had for taking on more than one flavor.  So prior to finally finding the footing I had hope it to have, it took on two other forms, which I've decided to share here today.  The first is actually a similar concept in a short form (more of a brush of the lips).  The second one definitely has a different twist.

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Kiss Me Senseless

if i threaten to ramble on endlessly,
will you promise to silence me again
with your lips on mine?

Sweet Kiss

her words hung in the air
harsh, bitter, and cold
like icicles ready to drop
their points aimed directly at him;
the silence echoed
as the last word left her lips.
she stepped toward him
leaned in and kissed his cheek;
her lips curled into a evil smile
upon seeing her blood red imprint.
still he stood there
as though petrified by her words;
she turned to walk away
her tongue casually slipping
out across her top lip
in along her bottom lip.
a small giddy laugh
escaped past another smile
as she bit her bottom lip
thinking how sweet revenge tasted.

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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.

5 Last Call: Blood Red

An Aside: I know...I know...I really should save my asides for the end, but... This little number never made its way here to ...dodta.... It was inspired way back in November of last year by a Poetics prompt over at dVerse~Poets Pub, called Playing with Color. For some reason, I posted it on an alternative blog (that for some weird reason I maintain) and therefore never actually shared it for the inspiring prompt. So I thought I'd share it tonight. 

Blood Red

when asked why he does it
the serial killer replied
“I like the color blue.”
he looked down at his arm
traced his finger along a vein
“I try and I try,
but it never runs blue.”

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.