0 Can I Have This Dance?: Where are You?

Title:  Everything Good
Artist:  Ashes Remain
Album:  What I've Become
Genre:  Christian & Gospel

Notes:  Switched genres one again with this weeks installment of CIHTD?  I admit that while I listen to a nice array of genres, Christian was not one of them.  It is not a genre I have really ever been exposed to.  A couple of months ago, while driving home I was flipping through the radio stations and came across this song.  I honestly didn't know its genre at the time, but the song just stuck with me.

Where are you?
lungs crush in on me
as my thoughts fight to breathe
i long for you to help me find my breath
the world disappears beneath me
as upside down i float away
lost in this tirade of thoughts and emotions
i’m terrified you might not find me

9 HURT

HURT

injure

mutilate

New Endangered List

prompts razor blade hazard--

warning targets teenagers.

"release of mental pain through cuts."

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It seems like forever since I last (a) tried my hand at a clarity pyramid and (b) found myself pondering the words over at Three Word Wednesday.  But it seems only natural that on this last Wednesday of the month (now that I've found my way back to writing), I should explore both of these.


The first thing that came to mind when I saw this weeks words [3WW=>cut(s), endanger(ed), hazard] was cutting.  It took me a little while to get it to come together; and still, I'm not really sure the middle stanza necessarily depicts a "life event" as it is meant to, but I think it works anyway.

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5 Last Call: Your Open Heart

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Your Open Heart

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

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

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

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

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

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

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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.  

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

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1 Time Capsule: C Your Way Out If It

Title:  C Your Way Out Of It
Date:  between 09/25/03 and 06/21/04
Setting:  Life after college--during second post-college job
Form:  Sonnet

I see straight through those words you mutter ‘bout
Those words you’ve strewn together with no thought
Inanely thrown in here and there throughout
In hopes that you shall find the fool you’ve sought
So ramble on you do without a doubt
To make coherent concepts you have fought
As though this diatribe might give you clout
Now did you really think you’d not be caught?

I’ve seen your kind a dozen times before
Your suave demeanor lacks effect on me
Don’t be pretentious to think me a fool
You cannot catch me with your little lore
Though you hope, you know it will never be
Because you see, when all is said, I rule.

Notes:  

So we have fast forwarded quite a bit.  Though in a way reversed (seeing how I found my way back to high school).  This poem found me in my sixth year of teaching, during my second job which found me teaching high school math.  One of my colleagues was working with students on a poetry unit.  Now while I have always enjoyed poetry, I have never (or should say had never) really explored form--outside of the basics you got in school:  haiku, diamante, and acrostic.  

This here was my first (adult) exploration of form--free verse being my form of choice.  I'm not sure sonnets where the best place for me to  begin exploring form.  One because it was my first exploration in stress meter (iambic pentameter).  Two it had rhyming (which I've mentioned multiple times here I'm not that fond of).  I actually ended up writing two sonnets back-to-back.  I didn't toy with form again until after I started this blog; it wasn't until February 2011 that I gave the sonnet another try (though I put my own twist on it by making it a poem for two voices).  

The only plus to writing in rhyme and stressed meter is that instead of needing to list out all the words I can think of that rhyme with a given word or look up the stressed syllable in a dictionary, I know have it all at my fingertips in the form of apps on my phone.  Technology really is fascinating.

Artifact I:  Not sure where the original write for this ended up, I have some pits and pieces of a line or two but I'm guessing the whole poem was probably typed.  (front of paper)

Artifact II:  A glimpse into the long lists of rhyming words.  (back of paper)

4 Can I Have This Dance?: You Made Your Bed

Title:  Bones
Artist:  Little Big Town
Album:  The Road to Here
Genre:  Country

Notes:  I decided with this installment to switch genres once again.  As I mentioned in my first CIHTD? while I have a somewhat eclectic taste in music, country probably outweighs the others.  I have always enjoyed this group--just thinking about their songs has my head bopping up and down; their always fun!

An Aside:  This week at dVerse Poets Pub (a wonderful place for poets from around the world to create, learn, grow and share poetry) they have been celebrating their one year anniversary.  Yesterday's event involved selecting a poem submitted over the course of the year to any of their prompts.  While perusing the different submissions, I came across a poem (and prompt) that I had missed while on my hiatus.  And in doing so was introduced to a new form:  Framed Couplets.  So, crazy me--seeing as how I am not crazy about writing with rhymes--decided to give it a go.  I mention all this so you will forgive the monstrosity below. 

You Made Your Bed

Should you listen close you'll hear the bones;
wooden doors can hardly squelch their moans.
Spawns of deeds you've done that now decay--
haunting you no matter where you lay.

Don't believe the closet door will keep
groaning ghosts away, for they shall creep.
Running scarred will not keep them at bay;
nonetheless you'll try to breakaway.

But there is no place for you to hide,
'cause they're yours--within you they reside.

5 Last Call: Escape Back Into Hiding?

Escape Back Into Hiding?.egg on Aviary.

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Escape Back Into Hiding?

How long
before the demons once again
take hold?

Already
their unfurled talons
claw at the inner wall

Every scratch
tears at the resolve
built to protect

How long
before the paranoid delusions
find purchase?

Already
they hop-scotch
along the outskirts of the mind

Every jump
ignites a trail of synapses
meant to be forgotten

How long...

How long...

How long
before this all consuming battle
destroys?

Already
the peace saught with withdrawal
fades from grasp

Every move
to regain a sense of semblance
opens the doors
to the demons
to the paranoid delusions

But to close the doors
means giving up the fight
means loosing any sense of self

Yet
how long
can this war rage on
before there is nothing left
of me?

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This week dVerse Poets Pub celebrates it's one year anniversary.  I still recall walking through the door on shaking legs; I just made it...number 157 out of 164.  d'Team  over at dVerse Poets Pub is an amazing group of people whose time and efforts are extra-ordinary.  I'd like to thank them for providing such a welcoming and open environment to share, learn and grow.  Take a moment and check out what they have to offer, as well as exploring a wonderful collection of talented writers for this week's anniversary OpenLinkNight.

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0 Time Capsule: Alone I Sit

Title:  Alone I Sit
Date:  09/10/94
Setting:  In dorm room during freshman year of college
Form:  Free Verse

Alone I sit.
Laughter echoes down the hall;
Somewhere, not here.

Suddenly I am flushed
with loneliness—
sadness.
I turn the music up trying to drown them out.

Alone I sit.
Happy voices cry out from down the hall;
Somewhere, not here. 

Overwhelming, my face is flushed
with tears—
fears.
I close my ears so as not to hear them. 

Alone I sit.
Laughing, talking, enjoying one another’s company;
I know they’re there—not here. 

Alone I sit full of tears—not laughter,
Consumed in silence—not talking,
Burdened with sadness—
Alone, I sit.

Notes:  I can still picture myself sitting at the desk in my dorm room as these words flowed.  Considering the date, I was probably only in school--away from home--for about two to three weeks.  I was still trying to find my way in this new place with no one around who I knew.

I chose this poem this week for two reasons.  The first is that is seemed fitting given the progression of the last two Time Capsules that I find my way out of high school and into college.  While this alone would not lead me to choose this seeing as how I wrote quite a bit of poems in college (even if we restricted it to freshman year).

Out of all those I could have chosen as I shuffled through my poetry folder, this one demonstrated, in a way, why I rarely revise a piece of work once it has been written.  I figured after last week's entry where I posted my first ever poem that involved a rewrite after completing the poem that this would be a good follow up.  This here felt like a good example of how much time I spend in the initial write to make it what I want.  The first draft--or ramblings--possess the essence of the final poem.

Artifact I:  The first write.

Artifact II:  The redesigned poem constructed during the same sitting.