Wednesday, August 3, 2016

Hope Is a Double-Edged Sword (& an update)

Hope Is a Double-Edged Sword

"Well I know it gets harder every single day
And I know my darkness will never go away
It's hard when you're living and you don't feel much
And you're down and you're hoping that things are gonna change"
                                                                                      –We Don't Know
                                                                                        The Strumbellas

Every night I close my eyes to see the road ahead
and my mind wages war on itself;
fear of what lies ahead or rather what doesn't
torments every corner of my mind – killing me.
I struggle to breathe as I wait for sleep to take hold
and I feel hope begin to fray
with every step I've taken
with every step that lies ahead;
and what have I learned along the way?
Well, I know it get harder, every single day.

Every day I navigate through life blindly
and my heart wages war on itself;
fear of not being loved or rather being loved
vibrates across my heart strings – killing me.
I struggle to find my way as I grasp for something to hold
and I feel nothing but dismay
with the possibility of losing myself
with the possibility of finding myself;
still I continue along this pathway
and I know my darkness will never go away.

Every night I close my eyes and dream of feeling home
and my heart wages war on itself;
fear of feeling too much or rather feeling nothing
echos through the chambers of my heart – killing me.
I struggle to find peace as I wait for slumber's embrace
and I feel life's wicked clutch
with so much inside overwhelming
with so much outside begging;
how do I allow myself to feel home with me along with their touch?
It's hard when you're living and you don't feel much.

Every day I cling uncharacteristically to hope
and my mind wages war on itself;
fear of not truly living or rather of living
sears the edges of my mind – killing me.
I struggle with every breath as I cling to hope's embrace
and I feel life and I estranged
with each wish I make
with each wish life forsakes;
how do I continue when this existence is so strange
and you're down and you're hoping that things are gonna change.



Update (well sort of):  This is the first legit poem I've written in ages.  Okay, so that is not entirely true...to force myself to exit this state of silence, I have been using a daily planner since the start of July and posting via twitter (@rmpWritings) each day.  There is just something a little different about this piece.  Anywho...

A note on form:  This is a glosa...my fourth.  There is something about this form I kind of like.  It's an interesting form meant to pay tribute to a poet by incorporating/quoting four lines from a piece of their work. It then is followed by four stanza of 10 lines where the tenth sequentially comes from the original quote. For more detail, check out the Pub's FormForAll: Paying Tribute, Page and the Glosa.  Thus far, I find my "poet" of choice tends toward the musical kind.  While my first three pieces were all from the same group (O.A.R.).  This one found inspiration elsewhere.

Inspiration for this piece:  Yesterday, while browsing through iTunes, I stumbled across a song from a musical group I had only been briefly introduced to during the previous month.  (I apologize for the unintended pun that is about to follow.)  And it really struck a chord with me.  So much so, that the idea of writing a glosa came to my mind straight away.  So, I bought the album and wrote the glosa.

Update #2 (hopeful):  As I mentioned earlier, there is something about this form that I just like.  So, along with continuing my #poeming365 through my daily planner.  I am hoping to begin to continue to toy with the glosa; even started a new notebook (though my current is still not full) that is meant to house the glosas yet to come. And yes, I'll probably stick to songs for my opening cabeza.

Friday, April 1, 2016

One Day Never Comes

I need to believe
my silence
                   echoes
                           echoes
                                   echoes

     To believe such
     means my words
[[[captured in each reverberation]]]
     have worth

That I
           I
              I
                 echo



It's been almost a year...30 days shy actually...but it's National Poetry Month...it seemed only right to write.

on unearthing titles:  this piece is a response of sorts to a previous piece...it begins "one day / my silence / will echo" & for some reason, as I think of this opening, a song that has always kind of reverberated in my head came to mind "someday never comes" by Creedence Clearwater Revival.  I guess in this case it kind of encapsulates my fear that "one day" too will never come.

Thursday, April 30, 2015

Bury the Truth

She was an artist,
her paints composed of
concealer
foundation
face powder
rouge
lipstick
eye shadow
eyeliner
eyebrow powder;

but when makeup would not suffice,
she borrowed truths.

"I slammed my hand in the car door."
"I tripped over the laundry basket."
"I was in such a rush I  didn't realize I'd
closed the door & BAM!"
"My heal broke and I couldn't catch
myself in time."

words came easily;
she'd never known anything else.
but they were her truths to bear -
hers, not her daughters;
& so the first time
her daughter felt the sting
of those truths,
she made sure it was the last -

burying the truths
beneath the lush pink roses.



On inspiration for this piece: This idea was pulled from Poetic Asides's 2015 April PAD Challenge: Day 30. "For today’s prompt, take the phrase 'Bury the (blank),' replace the blank with a word or phrase, make the new phrase the title of your poem, and then, write your poem."

Alas, it is day 30!  While there were definitely moments I struggled, I knew I would make it to the end.  It definitely feels good.  Hopefully with the end of this challenge, I will not crawl back into hibernation mode.  I'm not sure I'll maintain the insane pace of this past month, but hopefully I will find inspiration to continue to write.



Wednesday, April 29, 2015

Paradox (What's on Your List?)

At first I thought,
a list of what nobody knows
would stay perpetually empty
for to add something to the list
you'd first need to know about it,
but once known it no longer belongs
on such a list.

At second thought
the list had far more potential;
all there is to do is ask questions,
to delve beyond the obvious.
There are plenty of things that we
know we don't know.

The fun part
(along with simply contriving such a list
like "is there such a thing as a Sasquatch?"
or "are we, as Seuss depicted, simply a Who?")
is getting to cross them off.



On inspiration for this piece: This idea was pulled from Poetic Asides's 2015 April PAD Challenge: Day 29. "For today’s prompt, write a what nobody knows poem."


Tuesday, April 28, 2015

Atomic Neurons

90% (if not more)
of the thought particles
pinging around in my head
are anti-matter or
at least they should be, but I
give them weight
allowing them to matter.
If I keep splitting atoms
I'm bound to ex-PLO-de.



On inspiration for this piece: This idea was pulled from Poetic Asides's 2015 April PAD Challenge: Day 28. "Here’s the final 'Two for Tuesday' prompt of the month: Write a matter poem. Matter is what things are made of. Write an anti-matter poem. The opposite of a matter poem."

Monday, April 27, 2015

Objects in the Mirror Are Not as They Appear

3 friends ride beside me
on this journey through life -
anxiety, depression, & paranoia.
each take their turn up front;
I cringe with each "shotgun."

At times all is peaceful,
eyes focused up ahead -
hope, possibilities, promise & happiness.
but it's all so fleeting,
passing by without care.

Inevitably,
one of them takes control.
& suddenly it's like passing an accident;
everything just slows down
& I can't help but stare.

If only that was all,
but there are three of them -
anxiety, depression, & paranoia -
all seeking attention,
blurring what lies ahead.

The biggest problem are
the side and rear mirrors -
perpetually playing every transgression -
constantly there in my
peripheral vision.

With each new incident,
the reel repeats itself;
hope, possibilities, promise & happiness
diminish because I
can't help except look back.



On inspiration for this piece: This idea was pulled from Poetic Asides's 2015 April PAD Challenge: Day 27. "For today’s prompt, write a looking back poem."

Just three more days to go....  I'm amazed I haven't pulled all my hair out yet.
 

Sunday, April 26, 2015

Addiction

You are my only vice.
Okay, "only" is a little dramatic;
I have other vices it's just...

*sigh*

you are the most troublesome
& tormenting of the lot.
Don't be dishearten;
while your radiance is pure torture,
the idea of giving you up
is laughable.

You see...

every blushing dawn I awake
without the taste of you,
only serves to remind me
I am flawed;

every lustrous moonbeam that shimmers
without the touch of you,
casts shadows about me that
I must negotiate;

every gust of wind I breathe
without the scent of you,
steals any hint of amazement until
I feel jaded.

What else is there for me to do,
but crave the taste, touch & scent
of you?

For without you, life
is a gnarled noiseless deafening
courtship with discontentment,

but with you, life
is a generous tranquil majestic
courtship with excitement;

for you
undress the worthless feelings
that impede me
& arouse a fearlessness
making me invulnerable.



On inspiration for this piece: This idea was pulled from Poetic Asides's 2015 April PAD Challenge: Day 26. "For today’s prompt, take a word or two invented by William Shakespeare, make it the title of your poem, and write your poem."  While the title indeed is one of the "invented" words, I also include a handful of them throughout this piece; totaling, with the title, 30 words.


Again, trying to step outside of myself for a bit.  Sometimes when expelling evils it takes more of a toll than just letting them fester.  Or maybe it is simply the fact that if done time after time it wears, especially when not balanced with more uplifting (hopeful), even if fictional, thoughts.

On a side note, this piece feels as though it was meant to be read aloud.