Friday, February 28, 2014

Flowery Flight

I can connect the dots 'cross the bridge
of her nose just to hear her sweet giggle
bubble around us. 
                               I know she'll shake
her face and scrunch up her nose,
pull back from my reach and twirl
her pink lace layered skirt flaring out
about her as though at any moment
it'll lift her into the air -
                                            a flying petal
propeller spiriting her up as her arms
reach out toward the sky above.

She'll stop mid-twirl, quickly regain her legs
and run back towards me.

"Again!  Again!  Do it again!"


          she'll squirm and giggle as
I count...

"1, 2, 3...over the mountain...4, 5, 6, 7"

before she escapes my grasp once again
soaring in carefree giggly delight.

A bit of rambling and Inspiration for this piece:  There is a reason I write poetry.  I don't much care for the detail that goes along with writing lengthy prose.  Building a scene or developing a character is wordy and poetry well I admit it has its moments, but for the most part siphons of most of the unnecessary.  I've managed lengthy prose, but that's mainly because I quite enjoy the dialogue and the moments and emotions I can conjure up with dialogue.

The reason I mention any of this is because I find it hard enough to develop a character when faced with lengthy prose, the idea of doing so within the confines of poem seems crazy.  Not that it can't be done.  I have read some amazing pieces where a character can seamlessly be brought to life through poetry.  I think the underlying problem is that I just don't "look" at people...fear tied to social anxiety; I have a unwritten piece entitle "Selective Blindness" that speaks to this, but that's besides the point.  Anyway...

With the prompt over at dVerse Poets Pub for this week's Meeting the Bar, being about creating a character through a poem...this here is my feeble attempt at capturing a character through poetry.    

Wednesday, February 26, 2014


work toward

slurping princesses
find table etiquette
a troublesome beast to best

"fighting against one's own nature."

Inspiration for this piece and A note on form:  It seems like forever since last a Three Word Wednesday collided (on the last Wednesday of the month) with a clarity pyramid; it's only been since November.  It take as long to find my way with this one.  I do tend to struggle a bit finding the right fit, but having recently looking at a picture of my niece from her recent visit to the Bibbidi Bobbidi Boutique, the idea just kind of flowed.  [3WW=>aspire, beast, slurp(ing)]

Monday, February 24, 2014

Secret Message or Love Spell?

Once unraveled, baffling, haunting codes
unearth simple, loving, wanting notes.

Inspiration for this piece:  I came across this story while scanning through Flipboard's Cover Stories.  The original article in the Huffington Post was written just prior to Valentine's Day - quite fitting I would suppose.  Anyway, I just loved the whole story...I knew there was a poem hidden here.  While I'm not really certain I found the poem, I did find a poem, so...

A note on form:  Honestly I have bypassed this form on multiple occasions.  Whether because it was too tight/restricting or because I had no idea how to even get started on developing an idea for one, I couldn't say.  So what brought me to this form, known as Tyburn?  Well, while listing some thoughts and ideas from the article a couple of words jumped out at me (haunting, baffling, puzzling).  While I did not end up using all three words, it did make me recall this form.  After reviewing its structure, I thought why not.  Why not indeed?  I'm not 100% sold on my use of "wanting," but I like what the "nt" added to the rhyme with haunting and in my head it sounds appropriate...that's all that really matters right?  (Feel free to lie and say "right.")  I also admit, I took some liberty with the rhyme of the last two lines.  Instead of pure rhymes, I used assonance.  Although I could argue that the 'd' and 't' have a similar sound quality that assists in the ending rhyme.

Thursday, February 20, 2014

A Little Bit Pinky, a Little Bit Brain

Beneath the surface lay the heart
   (a truth, if you will)
of how I feel with every knock
    (upon my door).

"If you want ideas, you're
in the right place!"
is the face I show
   (not a lie -
    ideas simmer within my
    rather normal sized brain
    waiting to burst forth)
ready & willing (genuinely)
                                    to help.

"Quiet!  There's world
domination in progress!"
stares me (upside down) in the face
   (not inaccurate, but not mine -
    if I listen quietly enough
    the thoughts & challenges of
    young growing minds waft in)
giving me pause to what lies outside
                                    my door.

"Are you aware that
you're disturbing me?"
lives face down
   (a shameful reality -
    pushed down & buried;
    a contradiction to who
    I am - yet not really)
shouting as it should (within)
                                    at me.

Inspiration for this piece:  So it started with a piece I read this morning that hinted at the dVerse Poet Pubs Meeting the Bar prompt for today.  At first I thought the little rock I stepped on this morning with the word "luck" written on it would be a good selection for the prompt, but as I sat at my desk today another gem of an idea surfaced.  On my desk is a "brain analyzer."  It holds a triangular prism with three sets of phrases on them.  When I was still in the classroom,, "Quiet! There's world domination in progress!" would face outward.  The rest of the time was probably split evenly between the other two phrases.  Now it sits on my desk with "If you want ideas, you're in the right place!" so as not to scare off the teachers who come to visit me.  Nonetheless, the phrases on all sides are never far from my mind.

Wednesday, February 19, 2014

Don't Ask...I've No Idea

Listen close, I've much to say,
but it's hidden deep.
Far beneath the surface lay
truths that shall not keep.

Far beneath the surface lay
mysteries untold,
waiting patiently to slay
demons dark and cold.
Listen close, I've much to say -
deeply interred -
waiting patiently to slay
all with just a word.

A note on form and structure: So technically this piece is free verse, though obviously it has some structure and design.  Each stanza is composed of four lines (quatrain).  The syllable structure is 7-5-7-5 for each stanza; with meter trochee with an extra stress at the end (DUM-da-DUM-da-DUM-da--DUM / DUM-da-DUM-da--DUM / etc.).  Then there is the rhyming pattern of abab, acac, adad; with lines that repeat in two stanzas.  As to the rhyme-and-reason behind the decision to write in this structure...well...that is an excellent question.

Inspiration for this piece and On unearthing titles:  Haven't a clue...thus the title. 

Monday, February 17, 2014

Unspoken, but Avowed Nonetheless

Her:  It's been over a month.  *sigh* Does it bother you that I'm still not ready?

Him:  You feel quite ready to me.

Her:  [ She shakes her head slightly. ]  You know that is not what I mean.

Him:  hmm....  No.  [ He wraps his arms a little more tightly around her. ]  No, it doesn't bother me.  Don't...don't get me wrong, I thoroughly look forward to hearing the words cross those perfect lips of yours, but...I don't need to hear the words to know their truth.  I can feel them in every glance, every smile, in your biting wit, in the perfect silences that rest between us, in every - single - simple - touch...

[ He shifts his grip, causing her to turn around in his arms and face him. ]

Him:  I can taste the words
                             on the tip of your tongue
                                                             every time
                                                                          we kiss.

Her:  That was very poetic of you.

Him:  ^shrug^ What can I say, you're rubbing off on me.

[ He lifts his hand to cup the side of her face, gently brushes her cheek with his thumb, and leans in for a taste of the three little words that reside in her heart, but torment her mind. ]

On (or about) conversation:  I haven't quite found a comfort level with adding dialogue to my poetry.  I have done so on occasions, but I still can't get a feel for it.  It's kind of funny to me, as I was thinking about this write that my thoughts paralleled a previous dialogue post.  I think dialogue appeals to me because I lack the ability (the grace) to say what lies beneath the surface (partly because I shy away from conversation in general - the ill effects of social anxiety).  Of course I wage a lot of what I write exists due to my inability to connect in the world beyond the ones I like to fabricate.

Sunday, February 16, 2014

Quarters Line the Counter <> Claiming Next Turn

He writes
                  a kaleidoscope of phrases

twisting gems <> colored
               auras he reads
               like the back of his hand
          a soul cross–|–es his path <>

reflecting angles / \ the world shaped
                 in brilliant – insight(ing) –
                 light shimmering
        truths lost to most / \

fitting perfectly /\\ asymmetrical \
            images breathtaking(ly)
            (& real) together
for a breath

      he twists a new inc(l)andescent
      image patterned in colors and shapes
                                     (words & phrase)
                                  <> gems & angles / \

A cryptic (just because) note on the inspiration for this piece:  This isn't quite my first time writing on this subject and to be truthful, the gems and angles were not so easy for me to see initially.  But like a kaleidoscope that promises something sparkly and new with each turn, I found myself re-turn-ing again and again for a glimpse inside until the pattern finally took shape.

On unearthing titles:  So this is one of those rare occasions where the title began to unfurl as the idea and first lines began to creep into (and swirl around in) my brain.  With the idea of the kaleidoscope, came an odd array of other thoughts.  The old fashioned picture movie devices (mutoscope) that was a mechanical version of a flip book where sequential images were set in a wheel that was turned by a hand crank as you peered through the a single lens with a hood.  These were coin operated devices.  The next thought that popped was the idea that when at an arcade, the next player would put a quarter (or token) on the game as a way of claiming the next game.  And so somehow these two ideas merged to bring about the title here in.

An aside:  I highly doubt these last three days are any indicator in the future frequency of my posts, but is nice to feel the pencil glide across to the smiles that light up upon completion of a piece.  Maybe my lack of motivation has been vanquished or maybe this is just a break in the cloudy skies that have dampened my desire to write.  Who's to say, but time.

Saturday, February 15, 2014

Own the Lies to Own the Truth – and Love

Close your eyes and listen with your heart
don't ignore the truth it does impart; 
Own this feeling blossoming within, 
loose yourself in this insane whirlwind.

You deserve to be compete – to feel 
more – far more than dreamed; you needn't conceal 
nor inter the fear that binds, instead...

Share it!  Own it!  Breathe it!  Kill it dead!

There is much of you to love, you need 
but renounce the lies that fear does breed.
Shut them out – escape the pain – be free.
Close your eyes – the truth is hard to see.

Thoughts appreciated:  Currently the poem ends as I had initially intended in the last line, but after finishing the piece, I felt a little bit of a nag to change the final rhymes.  There is part of me that wants to hold true to the original inspiration for this piece and yet another that kind of likes the alternate ending.  Feel free to share your is the alternate final lines:

"Shut them out – escape the pain and fear;
close your eyes – the truth is hard to hear."

Inspiration for this piece:  This poem began with a simple line that popped into my head, "close your eyes the truth is hard to see."  After finding the 9 syllable phrase sounding nicely like trochee with an extra stress at the end (or as I prefer to think of it, iambic with an extra stress at the start), I thought it lent itself well to form.  So I set off to write the piece with this as the opening line.  It didn't take long before it found it's way from the leading line to the closing line.
A note on form:  This piece is a variation on the Framed Couplet.  (I like to call it a Chained Couplet.)  The form is composed of 9 syllable lines written (as mentioned above) in iambic meter with an extra stress to start off.  It also incorporates a beginning rhyme (on the first syllable) and an ending rhyme pairing each couplet like this.  In this variation, I have staggered the beginning and ending rhymes creating more of chain line between each and utilizing the same word as the first syllable in the opening and closing line to create a clasp of sorts.

Friday, February 14, 2014


My heart is pounding—set in overdrive
as thoughts of love corrode me from inside;
and so I hide away in hopes my knight
shall never find the truth.
                                           Mask applied,
I step beyond the darkness where I wage
a war against myself.
                                    I can't be saved–

my heart is petrified and I am made
of nothing — nothing — still I turn and face
the world as though I'm whole, all while I nurse
a fear so great that there exists no church
that can absolve my soul.
                                           I am no worse
for wear, though love will never be my purse;

my heart is lost to love.
                                        There's no way back–
I have no choice except to live with that.

Inspiration for this piece: A prompt set forth by dVerse Poets Pub:

"Today, I’d like to challenge the dVerse community to play bout rimés with the following set of rhymes, which are taken from a sonnet by a contemporary poet:
drive, side, night, lied, wage, saved,made, face, nurse, church, worse,purse, back, that."

I did my best to adhere to the sonnets iambic pentameter, but I've never really been fond of writing in strict I cannot guarantee I managed it.

In the end, I have no idea if this piece makes sense or expresses the title as well as I wish, but it feels (frustratingly) good to write something more than what I've been able to conjure up as of late.