Watching the Tides Turn

Across the sea of people he follows

an angel among mortals, pure as light;

she wades in and out of his vision,

his breath catching each time she disappears;

but such a tale could only end in woes.

Still he feels the flame within him ignite;

his eyes unable to tear away from

this angel among mortals, pure as light.

His heart beats out the rhythm of a drum

as she wades in and out of vision;

he knows there is no choice but to succumb,

for his breath stills each time she disappears.

He breathes in his resolve; the time has come

to brave the crowd and forget all his fears.

Who cares if this tale ends only in woes

and his is the only flame to ignite!

At last he wades in fixed on his vision;

as he braves the crowd forgetting his fears,

across the sea of people, she follows.

---

On inspiration for this piece: This idea was pulled from Poetic Asides's 2015 April PAD Challenge: Day 25. "For today’s prompt, write an across the sea poem."

Decided it was time for me to get outside of myself for a bit.  It hasn't been quite a happy place to reside in.  Struggling through this little tale help a bit. 

Tendency Toward the Complicated

On creating poetic forms:  In late 2010, I came across my first poetry challenge to invent/create a new form; I only truly began to explore form in mid 2010.  While a self-proclaimed free verse writer, I did come to notice that (the logical left side of my brain which dominates most of my day) liked to design pieces with structure.  And so I looked back at some of my writing until I unearthed a particular piece that I thought I could model a new form after.  Thus was born the Triquest (and approximately 3-5 variations on it...I have a tendency to overdue). 

By happenstance (I really just wanted to use the word happenstance), three months later I wrote a piece using one of my favorite poetic devices (repetition)...and then another and then another until I finally deemed it needed its own name (which I eventually changed).  I ended up settling on Nota as the name, though if you were to see its construction, one might think d'vile-nota might be a better name.  But I really was not 100% content with this because it was a 14-line poem, which made it feel too sonnet-ee for me (and I, forgive me, don't like writing sonnets...the whole meter and rhyme thing was never my forte...thus free verse).  And so in January of 2013 the Expanded Nota was formed. 

What I have learned in the process about me is that I am insane.  No seriously.  Recently, over at dVerse Poets Pub, a prompt was given (DIY) that asked the community to invent their own form (or a variation of an existing form).  And let me tell you, there are some very creative people out there...even those who typically don't work with form or have yet to explore it...created some really nice forms.  Not that I should be surprised...poetry and creative do tend to go together.  But what I learned is that I have a definite tendency toward the complicated.

And so, instead of sharing the intricacies of either form, I am just going to share examples of each here.  (Though those curious and/or as insane as I can find the details on each form and additional examples from the links provided above.)  The poems presented here were the first of their kind.  (I did not include variations of the Triquest, because as I mentioned that would be an additional 4-ish pieces...far more than the attentions span of a TenWord-er.)

On a side note:  The triquest has a quinzaine feel to it, though I had yet to meet the quinzaine form prior to writing my first triquest.  The nota has a definite pantoum and/or villanelle feel to it.

---

I wish for somebody (Triquest)

i wish for...
someone who can see me...
someone who can help me see me...
is that too much to ask?
how long do I have to wait?
is that someone even out there?

i wish for...
someone who will hold me...
someone whose embrace can ease the pain...
am i asking for a fantasy?
can i hope to find him soon?
does he even exist?

i wish for...
someone who will open himself up to me...
someone who can help me to open up...
is that more than i should want?
might he be in my near future?
is that someone real?

i wish for someone...
who will help me feel whole...
someone who will help me feel. 

---

Infinitely Delayed (Nota)

i can't afford to take this risky trip
deep within the recesses of my mind;
where sanity hangs on by just a thread
and the Fates' scissors do threaten to snip.

i can't contend with the fear that does bind--
paralyzing me from taking this flight
deep within the recesses of my mind.

my sanity hangs on by just a thread
and my tour guides are far from a delight.
how can i not fear what lay up ahead?

while the Fates' scissors threaten to snip,
how do i contend with the fears that bind--
when i do not know what lies up ahead?
i cannot chance taking this risky trip.

---

Embodying Her (Embracing Myself) (Expanded Nota)

she wades through my dreams just out of reach--
a dancer in the shadows of my grief.
I'm not sure how long she'll wait there for me
to realize the beauty I possess
while I struggle with a heart I can't breach.

Every once and again I catch a brief
glimpse of the person I'm supposed to be;
she dances in the shadows of my grief

bound to the darkness--longing to break free.
I wonder how long she'll wait there for me?
Full of pure love, she implores me to see

the amazing beauty that I possess--
dares me to embrace all that I should be
if I banish fear to love's sweet caress.

As I struggle with this heart I can't breach,
every once and again I feel a brief
ray of hope knowing she waits there for me.
Still I fear I'll never feel love's caress
for she wades through my dreams out of reach.

6 Feet (One Way or the Other)

There are tiny treasures hidden within;
only I know the secrets they possess,
like the young girl kneeling in prayer reflects
an image of me time had to unearth.
I wonder what beauty they'll see herein.

If I never tell them, they'll never guess
why the virgin Mary rests on my chest;
only I know the secrets they possess.

Little pieces of me I've not confessed,
like the young girl painting toe nails reflects
confidence and moxie (all while undressed),

an image of me time could not unearth.
And what of the cross worn beside my breast;
will they understand how much it is worth?

I'm unsure they'll see the beauty herein
for if I do not tell, they'll never guess
how the young woman shedding tears reflects
my feelings behind how much I am worth.
There are tiny treasures hidden within.

---

Inspiration for this piece:  Over at dVerse Poets Pub, the Poetics prompt is about Looking for Treasures.  It is amazing all the things that come to mind that hold meaning and memories.  I'd be able to settle on something to write to.  After reading several different responses from the amazing talents that had already begun to link up yesterday, I got to thinking.  What happens to all those treasures in the end?  Will someone else find meaning them?  Will they know the meaning that they held?  Will they take on a new meaning?  So many questions running through my head that it lead to the piece above.  Hidden within this piece are five different treasures I have held on to over the years.  Some from the day I was born others from college and then adulthood.  Below is an image of each with, I'm sure you'll be able to locate each within their given stanza.

An aside:  Even as I wrote the first line, I felt the double meaning it held.  There is definitely a lot more hidden in this poem than meets the eye.

A note on form:  I'll be sharing more on that probably tomorrow or Friday.  I'm certain you are sitting on the edge of your seat in anticipation.

A bit on editing and while driving:  Okay, so I originally wrote this last night when I could not fall asleep; stayed up quite late...initially saying I'd stop after the first stanza and laying out the repetition, but that did not happen.  As for when I typed it up, well let's just say that today was a very rough day emotionally and so still the error eluded me.  It was not until my drive home (where I typically do my best thinking) that I realized it wasn't Mary Magdalene; the pendent was of the Immaculate Conception and thus of the Virgin Mary.  Lucky me the syllable count matched and thus the change for any who may have read the original.  It also dawned on me as I drove home, which is either a reflection on my state of mind since last night or true to the fact that I do my best thinking while driving, this piece has a very prevelent (unitentional) religious association.  I wonder if that is my subconscience's way of telling me something.  hmm...

This young girl use to hang above my bed whan I was a little girl.
She still resides close to me during the evenings slumber.

She was a fixture in the upstairs hall bathroom as I grew up.
I stole her when I got my own place and she now hangs in my bathroom.

I got her when I went away to college.
She still hangs on my wall.

I've had the cross since my Christening.
The pendant of the Immaculate Conception was found
among my grandfather's things; I don't know what it meant to him
for I had never met him, but it is something of him that I can hold on to.