Poetics: Teardrop Memories

Teardrop Memories

Poetics: Oddly Perfect

Oddly Perfect

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Behind the image:  I've mentioned the sketch pad I rediscovered.  In it was a page of mathematics exploring Perfect Numbers (more specifically Odd Perfect numbers).  On the back of that page was a horrid drawing of an angel.  Upon taking a picture of the math, I found the angel lightly in the background; with a little assistance from a photo editor, I managed to draw out the angel.

original image before editing

Poetics: a journey's start

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About this poetics:  With the assistance of an app called Poetics, I took my last poem and reinvented it.  I've been trying to spark my creative flow and am hoping that this might assist.  I suppose only time will tell....

a journey's start

each lap of the waves

vibrates out

calling hatchlings home

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A note on form:  I thought to ease my way back into the whole poetry thing with a short verse.  My initial thought was a haiku, but what hatched out was a Kelly lune; although I suppose I didn't deviate too much considering the lune is known as the American haiku.

Behind the images:  This would be what one might call happenstance.  First night of vacation landed us on the beach as the sun was on its downward trip (early evening) and there before us was a crowd of people lined from shoreline up to land dune.  We made it just in time to see the last dozen or so make their way into the oceans waves.  So tiny & cute.  It seems crazy when you think about it; those tiny little creators have to travel the beach (what might be all of 2 dozen steps for me—but miles to them) just after struggling free of their eggs.

Just Me

"Give me something, give me some
      give me something to remember you
          before you fade away
              I'll be calling out your name, hey."
                                                -Give Me Something
                                                  O.A.R. (of a revolution)

I turn the music up
allowing it to wash over me;
the vibrating tendrils
wrap themselves around me,
but it's not enough
to dull the hum.
I'm stuck searching through memories --
calling out for something more,
anything to lessen the numb;
give me something, give me some.

Time seems to blaze by
scorching the edges of my mind,
burning pictures
I long to cling to;
all I'm left with are embers
of what I once knew.
now I'm stuck combing through memories --
calling out for something more,
anything to keep me from coming unglued;
give me something to remember you.

Once I could conjure up
your soothing embrace,
the only one that could ever
wash away the pain.
But now, even your phantom arms
are beginning to fray
and I'm stuck scanning through memories --
calling out for something more,
anything I can replay - replay -
before you fade away.

The candles flicker still;
though yours are only seen
reflected in my eyes.
Deep breath, I hold it in;
but I'm running out of air
for a wish I can't betray.
So I'm stuck here, all alone
just living out your name.
With every breath I give away,
I'll be calling out (y)our name, hey.

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I will always share two things with my mom, a name and a birthday.  I never thought much of this day, at least not where I was concerned...it's just another day.  But this is number four where I'm still waiting for it feel again like it is just another day...

The first year, I was no less lost than I am today.  But all I could do then was gather the words to me and let them pour alongside my tears in an attempt to feel (or not feel).

With year two came Treading Tears; written in blank verse which employs both meter and rhyme (two things I don't much care for), but in adhering to form I could diverge the emotional onslaught this day now brings.

When year three rolled around, I found myself Unarmed; this piece too was written in a form that typically is not so daunting, but I chose to add meter to the rondeau form.  The frustration of fitting form did as before, allowing me to make it through.  

Interestingly enough, all three (make that four) have one thing in common.  Something I still long for even today, yet will never again feel.  

Treading Tears
written in blank verse

Unarmed
written in rondeau form

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Behind the images:  Sometimes I wonder how I ever created so many poems directly on the computer - no prewriting involved.  These two are prime examples of the craziness that comes with the creative process, especially when form is involved.  My lovely scribbles, side-ways writing and stress-notation seen here are why I wonder how I spent a good number of years composing digitally.  It also seems sad to me that when typing (and deleting) you loose the footprints of the verse; yes, it is true that occasionally I erase instead of crossing out, but still there are hints of what once was hidden there on the page. 

A note on form:  This is my second attempt at a glosa.  Oddly enough, I selected the same artist for inspiration.  Though I suppose it is not so surprising; since first discovering them I have found their music soothes when I feel out of sync with everything around me--they give me something I can sync to.

I 'blank' me

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I 'blank' me  

  

There are three words that haunt me.  

Uninvited they break into my thoughts;  

escape from my lips without restraint.  

I hear them;  

I feel them.  

  

There are three words that plaque me;  

festering deep within me, they itch at me,  

driving me crazy until they explode unbidden.  

  

I want to rip them apart.  

I want to turn them inside out.  

  

There are three words I wish of me,

crave to believe deep down inside—

pray for to overshadow the others.

I need to replace H.A.T.E.

I need to find L.O.V.E.

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This was one of my found poems—tucked away within a sketch book I recently rediscovered.  I felt it fit quite perfectly with my previous post.  As you can see it was written almost exactly three years.

All Sraclbemd Up

I hvae srcetes hdiedn wtiihn the cfoidns of my mnid -
oens I drae not alolw to ecspae for faer tehy'll fnid tutrh.

So tcuekd aawy tehy saty wehre olny I
hlod the key to ulnokcnig tehm;

gartend it's a nmbuer cbmoo
and I seem to hvae raerargend
all the slily lttlie nmbures lkie teshe ltetres

if olny my barin was as good at tarnlstanig
mxeic up nmbures as wlel as tihs globbeydoogk

I mghit uenatrh the hdiedn srcetes
and dsiplel my faer.  

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This is my second poem utilizing this form, well not so much a form as a study on the brain's ability to read words as long as the first and last letter remain intact—okay, whether it true or not, I thought it a fun way to write.  (I recently came across something that made this bubble to the surface.)

The first poem was inspired by a prompt back in 2011 from Poetic Asides, which asked readers to "write an 'it ain't none of your business' poem."  I actually left off the final line of the poem from the first because only one of the words had enough letters to mess with and even then it was a four letter word not making it difficult to translate.  Today I add it back in except I'm taking all the words, removing the spaces and then applying the mixed up letter formula; it still shouldn't be too hard to figure out.

Here is the first...


for my eeys olny

I hvae a prahse taht hunats me
erevy wkanig day and ngiht
I fnid msylef cughat by tiher tturh
tehy ehco in my haed
wehn srsets stes in
it paluegs me
utnil tsohe diveslih wrdos
euprt lkie pisoon form my lpis

imahtee