6 Hidden Truth

hidden truth.egg on Aviary.

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Hidden Truth

His actions vindicated with two words
bring little solace to his worn down soul;
For deep within he knows the scary truth
they'll come from out of the woodwork in herds.

Where solace should embrace his worn down soul,
this verdict lays an old case at his feet;
a young boy's death now takes a greater toll.

As impetus for kidnapping our youth,
this two word verdict is a defeat
which drives home within him the scary truth;

they'll come from out of the woodwork in herds.
A young boy's life now worth a greater toll,
with impetus for kidnapping our youth;
His actions vindicated with two words.

---

it has been quite some time since i found myself participating in a Three Word Wednesday [3WW=>impetus, solace, vindication(-ion+ed)]. i'm sure i could probably deduce why it has taken me so long (since returning from my self-imposed exile) to return, but i'll save us all such a crazy rambling. as for why this week i cannot say, especially when you consider the words. i'm not really sure i did justice to the 'impetus'...or any of the 3WW words.


upon first reading them, they made me think of an episode recently on "Harry's Law" that i saw. i don't know if the poem makes sense outside of having seen the episode, but...


i am double dipping today by offering this up for OpenLinkNight over at dVerse~Poets Pub.

5 Bleeding Black

bleeding black.egg on Aviary.

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Bleeding Black

Words course through me
running the gambit through every vital organ;
intent on pulling the toxins from my body,
I bleed black.

Words collide within me
collecting the tainted emotions threatening me;
intent on healing my tattered mind,
I bleed black.

Words seep out of me
expelling the poison imbued in my very being;
intent on releasing my soul to breathe,
I bleed black.

This letting of words is my treatment…my salvation;
but with every bloodletting I am left to wonder.

What will become of me
when I squeeze
the last bit of ink
out of my veins?

(Will peace finally breathe life back into me
or will peace find me with the release of my last breath?)

I bleed black.

---

i've been sitting on "What will become of me / when I squeeze / the last bit of ink / out of my veins" for awhile now. Natasha Head's words for this weeks OpenLinkNight over at the dVerse~Poets Pub made me think back to this tweet that has sat waiting to find its voice. it was in the second stanza that i truly saw its light in the tag line of this blog, "this letting of words is my treatment...my salvation. it pulls all the toxins from my mind, body, and soul."

0 personal stenographer

if only there were a little chip in my head that could take my internal ramblings (especially those that seem to plague me while driving) and write them down.  so many thoughts run though my head about things i'd like to write and say, but they rarely seem to linger with me long enough to write or by the time i the chance does come along my motivation to do anything other than mindless things (listen to music, watch tv, star off into space).  there is also that fact that by the time i do get the chance to sit down and write my parnoid/self-depricating self has had time to whisper discouraging thoughts of how what i wish to say is pointless and no one really would care to read my insane ramblings. 

i suppose it really doesn't matter.  the chip in the head probably would end up being more trouble than it is worth. 

5 Adrift in Regret

The world melts away
whenever my eyes meet yours;
I am swept along
lost in a sea of regret.
floating endlessly.
Once words whispered drew desire,
like wind in my sails,
guiding me into your arms.
Every touch took me
along turbulent waters
where passion found course
wreaking havoc on my heart;
emotions ran wild,
steering me to another--
fear anchoring me.
on that day the winds silenced
and I found myself adrift.

---

i can't quite decide if this choka was ready to end here. FormForAll this week over at dVerse~Poets Pub had an article on Man’yoshu Japanese Poetry. having explored one of the two forms presented already (the tanka), i thought i might give the choka (or long poem) a go. i'm not sure i like the idea that it has no specific line restriction. it reminds me a bit of a ballad, though without the rhyming...they feel like they are meant to tell a story...but maybe that's just me.


anyway...i think for now i'll let it stand as is.

6 Beneath the Veil

Beneath the Veil.egg on Aviary.

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Beneath the Veil

your piercing gaze
disturbs my equilibrium
I teeter between who I wish you to see
and who I am beneath the surface

Normally what lies beneath is easy to conceal
so weighed down by fears
ladened with numbing anxiety
she rarely sees the light of day
yet you
with your piercing gaze
dive straight into my core
pushing down appearances
ripping aside the veil of smoke and mirrors
exposing her to the light

your piercing gaze
draws me to the surface
untethering me from my fears and anxieties
allowing me to see me through your eyes

---

my small offerings at the dVerse~Poets Pub for this week's OpenLinkNight. 

side note:  i'm not sure what it is about today's recording, but i listen to myself and can't help but laugh at me...

0 coincidences

I'm not sure how it works exactly.  I've tried puzzling it through a time or two, but have yet to draw any definitive answers.  At first I thought nothing of it.  Why would I?  It wasn't until I came across the article in the paper that the first tickle of oddity crept up.  There were so many details that matched.  Still one main piece was incorrect.  The photo in the paper looked nothing as I had dreamed.  After a couple more coincidental news episodes, I finally started to realize that there was way more to my dreams than I could have imagined.  So, I have decided to starting documenting my dreams and where necessary the real life happenings that coincide with it.  Maybe it's all in my head.  Maybe these coincidences are just that, coincidences.  Maybe I need to watch less television and stop reading the newspaper.  Maybe...I'm simply crazy.  What ever the case may be, I intend to figure out what exactly is going on.

Melissa closed the journal and sighed.  Her eyes looked from the beautifully bound red leather journal to the newspaper lying beside her right arm.  Nothing about the person in the picture looked familiar except for the smile.  Three nights ago she remembered looking into a mirror and delicately painting those exact lips luscious pink.  It was not unusual for her to dream as though she were someone else.  She could hardly remember a time where she was herself in a dream.  Her fingers traced over the lips jogging the feeling of excitement and anticipation she had felt in the dream.  She shook her head firmly and pushed herself back and up out of the chair.  "I'm not going there," she said to herself.  "Not again."

8 From the Ashes

From the Ashes.egg on Aviary.

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From the Ashes

surrounding walls protect like a double-edged sword
protection melds into suffocation,tarnishing every breath
desire swells sparking thoughts of freedom's flight
longing kindles within like a smoldering fire
but to put a match to this nest
to light this hearth on fire, burning down this cage
who's to say what will rise from the ashes
the mystical wings of the phoenix
the untapped beauty of Cinder-Soot
age old tales written of(f) by many
slanted, twisted and warped to suit one's fancy
who's to say what lies beneath
is true, unblemished, worthy of seeing the light
surrounding walls protect like a double-edged sword

---

i feel like there is an underlying theme in my poetry as of late...i suppose it probably speaks to my current state of mind...or lack there of.


i can't seem to break away from myself.  it would probably help if i forced myself to write more, but i am appear to be in a bit of a funk; so i really should be happy with the one poem (two if i'm lucky) a week thing i have going on.  after all it is better than nothing.


i'm thinking maybe i need to stop recording my voice for these OpenLinkNights.  one because i really dislike the sound of my voice...it is so not me.  i realize that most people to sound different when they hear their recorded voice, but i've actually had other people comment on how it doesn't sound like me.  two because i seem to have issues doing the recording at home and too often that is where (because i am a last-minute type of gal) i find myself putting on the finishing touches.


anyway...this is my weekly offering for the dVerse~Poets Pub.  if you haven't already been there to check out the talent individuals who walk through the pubs doors you may want to take a minute and see what they bring to the mic.