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.
Showing posts with label glosa. Show all posts
Showing posts with label glosa. Show all posts
Wednesday, August 3, 2016
Sunday, March 23, 2014
I'll Be Right Here
"You said, ' Young man don't rely on a sword.
Cause your words will outlive even time.'
I've counted my blessings. The rest are for you.
Please listen close for awhile.
And breathe, breathe, deep for me...."
-James
O.A.R. (of a revolution)
Your eyes cling to me - grounding you.
So many words you have yet to shed
spill from your eyes in silent pleas,
but I know all that there is to be said;
your words have always carried me true.
There's no need to speak to this reality,
no need to cling so tight,
I'll be right here;
all you need do is just set yourself free
and breathe, breathe, deep for me.
As the world spins out of control
and you feel yourself ready to fall,
know my words will catch you
wrap you in their warm embrace
holding you safe as you approach the unknown.
Don't get stuck in the turnstile;
so much awaits you on the other side
and I'll be right here
until you can move on with a smile.
(So) please listen close for awhile.
You will never be far from me
for your words I hold in my heart.
There's no need to worry or fret,
so much of who I am is due to you.
Take this moment and just breathe;
allow my words to ring true,
as time steals all we have left
I'll be right here
until you can see your way through.
I've counted my blessings. The rest are for you.
Know when at last the curtain falls,
I will continue to cling to the words.
You've shown me their power,
both to strike down & build up,
and I'll wield them as you implored;
may that be my only crime
as I sing out for you
to a tune I have scored
so your words will forever chime;
you said, "Young man don't rely on a sword.
Cause your words will out live even time."
A note on form: This is a glosa (of sorts). While it maintains the traditional opening cabeza (four line by another "poet" - I put poet in quotes because I tend toward lyrics and therefore song writers as apposed to "pure" poets) and it contains four stanza with 10-lines where the tenth line comes from the cabeza, along with the appropriate rhyme of lines 6, 9 & 10, I deviated slightly by using the lines in reverse order as instead of their given order. I could try to explain my reason for this, but I fear the rambling would turn you away. Now when have I ever let that stop me.
I had trouble with the cabeza. As I mentioned it is supposed to be four lines from another artist's piece. The problem is that in song sometimes you hear breaks where they don't exist or don't hear breaks where they do exist. There was a time when albums included the lyrics...I suppose some still do. But more often than not, the internet provides the resource you can't find else where...but who says they're right. Anyway, it doesn't really matter, I actually have the booklet from the CD and therefore the lines. What I did not expect was the first line wasn't two lines; either that or it's a typo, regardless.... I had thought that I would split them anyway and take the actual last two lines and join them together. Then I had the idea to reverse them and well....(I think that's enough of a ramble.)
Inspiration for this piece: I have to be honest, I'm not quite sure from where this piece erupted. Outside of the cabeza I had no real direction...so I suppose the piece took control of the pen. I admit when I first thought about using these lines for a glosa (before I had ironed out the line breaks) I had thought to follow along the opening lines...speaking to the power of words. I think in the end I stuck more to the "meaning" of the song. Though to be quite honest the lack of direction makes me wonder if the piece meanders around directionless itself.
An aside: There was another reason behind this selection today. This blog recently passed the one year mark. It was a convergence of three things that lead to this blog and its name. One of which was the opening of the cabeza. So...
Cause your words will outlive even time.'
I've counted my blessings. The rest are for you.
Please listen close for awhile.
And breathe, breathe, deep for me...."
-James
O.A.R. (of a revolution)
Your eyes cling to me - grounding you.
So many words you have yet to shed
spill from your eyes in silent pleas,
but I know all that there is to be said;
your words have always carried me true.
There's no need to speak to this reality,
no need to cling so tight,
I'll be right here;
all you need do is just set yourself free
and breathe, breathe, deep for me.
As the world spins out of control
and you feel yourself ready to fall,
know my words will catch you
wrap you in their warm embrace
holding you safe as you approach the unknown.
Don't get stuck in the turnstile;
so much awaits you on the other side
and I'll be right here
until you can move on with a smile.
(So) please listen close for awhile.
You will never be far from me
for your words I hold in my heart.
There's no need to worry or fret,
so much of who I am is due to you.
Take this moment and just breathe;
allow my words to ring true,
as time steals all we have left
I'll be right here
until you can see your way through.
I've counted my blessings. The rest are for you.
Know when at last the curtain falls,
I will continue to cling to the words.
You've shown me their power,
both to strike down & build up,
and I'll wield them as you implored;
may that be my only crime
as I sing out for you
to a tune I have scored
so your words will forever chime;
you said, "Young man don't rely on a sword.
Cause your words will out live even time."
A note on form: This is a glosa (of sorts). While it maintains the traditional opening cabeza (four line by another "poet" - I put poet in quotes because I tend toward lyrics and therefore song writers as apposed to "pure" poets) and it contains four stanza with 10-lines where the tenth line comes from the cabeza, along with the appropriate rhyme of lines 6, 9 & 10, I deviated slightly by using the lines in reverse order as instead of their given order. I could try to explain my reason for this, but I fear the rambling would turn you away. Now when have I ever let that stop me.
I had trouble with the cabeza. As I mentioned it is supposed to be four lines from another artist's piece. The problem is that in song sometimes you hear breaks where they don't exist or don't hear breaks where they do exist. There was a time when albums included the lyrics...I suppose some still do. But more often than not, the internet provides the resource you can't find else where...but who says they're right. Anyway, it doesn't really matter, I actually have the booklet from the CD and therefore the lines. What I did not expect was the first line wasn't two lines; either that or it's a typo, regardless.... I had thought that I would split them anyway and take the actual last two lines and join them together. Then I had the idea to reverse them and well....(I think that's enough of a ramble.)
Inspiration for this piece: I have to be honest, I'm not quite sure from where this piece erupted. Outside of the cabeza I had no real direction...so I suppose the piece took control of the pen. I admit when I first thought about using these lines for a glosa (before I had ironed out the line breaks) I had thought to follow along the opening lines...speaking to the power of words. I think in the end I stuck more to the "meaning" of the song. Though to be quite honest the lack of direction makes me wonder if the piece meanders around directionless itself.
An aside: There was another reason behind this selection today. This blog recently passed the one year mark. It was a convergence of three things that lead to this blog and its name. One of which was the opening of the cabeza. So...
Saturday, August 3, 2013
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.
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).
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.
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.
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 |
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.
Friday, May 24, 2013
Our Dance (is Finally Over)
"Then the rain came knocked me sideways
Hope the wind will catch my fall
I know we all deserve a couple scars
It's just getting old."
–Almost Easy
O.A.R. (of a revolution)
It's too easy – far too easy
to walk down this path again.
Then, drinking you in had me disappearing;
fading into me, into you, into us,
way more than I could handle.
But you were like a beautiful song that plays
entrancing me out of myself
your fingers strummed the very core of me
consuming my nights – stealing my days.
Then the rain came knocked me sideways.
You couldn't see the storm rage inside me
though you felt it I'm sure.
Now here we stand again and it seems so easy
to fall back in – let it take control –
spin us around like an old record
whose perfectly worn grooves touch and enthrall
familiar waves (intoxicating) strive to take hold
and it's oh so easy to get lost in the music of us,
but when the storm returns, throws me against the wall,
(I) hope the wind will catch my fall.
Every time I think it won't happen
your hand stretches out before me
inviting me to dance. I should know better
than getting caught in this whirlwind
where the only thing I'm left with is a bruised heart.
How many times will you play its strings like a guitar,
breaking them one by one – though really
it's my own damn fault thinking I was stronger
the past serving as a lesson – a guiding star;
I know we all deserve a couple of scars.
I said it before, I'll say it again
hurt is all I have to offer you, me, us
I'll always be undecided – torn up inside;
longing to feel our harmonies sync
knowing I'm to scarred to match your tune.
Still it's way too easy letting this feeling take hold,
finding everything I need in you, but not
what I need of me. I have to let go;
this song of ours has been oversold.
(and) it's just getting old.
A note on form: Yesterday, over at dVerse, they introduced the glosa. 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.
A side note on the form: So I didn't technically (depending on how you look at it) choose a poet. I chose a musical group that has a way of calming the storm that tends to rear it's ugly head. Still, song is a poetic form; it just typically incorporates some musical instruments.
Hope the wind will catch my fall
I know we all deserve a couple scars
It's just getting old."
–Almost Easy
O.A.R. (of a revolution)
It's too easy – far too easy
to walk down this path again.
Then, drinking you in had me disappearing;
fading into me, into you, into us,
way more than I could handle.
But you were like a beautiful song that plays
entrancing me out of myself
your fingers strummed the very core of me
consuming my nights – stealing my days.
Then the rain came knocked me sideways.
You couldn't see the storm rage inside me
though you felt it I'm sure.
Now here we stand again and it seems so easy
to fall back in – let it take control –
spin us around like an old record
whose perfectly worn grooves touch and enthrall
familiar waves (intoxicating) strive to take hold
and it's oh so easy to get lost in the music of us,
but when the storm returns, throws me against the wall,
(I) hope the wind will catch my fall.
Every time I think it won't happen
your hand stretches out before me
inviting me to dance. I should know better
than getting caught in this whirlwind
where the only thing I'm left with is a bruised heart.
How many times will you play its strings like a guitar,
breaking them one by one – though really
it's my own damn fault thinking I was stronger
the past serving as a lesson – a guiding star;
I know we all deserve a couple of scars.
I said it before, I'll say it again
hurt is all I have to offer you, me, us
I'll always be undecided – torn up inside;
longing to feel our harmonies sync
knowing I'm to scarred to match your tune.
Still it's way too easy letting this feeling take hold,
finding everything I need in you, but not
what I need of me. I have to let go;
this song of ours has been oversold.
(and) it's just getting old.
A note on form: Yesterday, over at dVerse, they introduced the glosa. 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.
A side note on the form: So I didn't technically (depending on how you look at it) choose a poet. I chose a musical group that has a way of calming the storm that tends to rear it's ugly head. Still, song is a poetic form; it just typically incorporates some musical instruments.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)