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.
Wednesday, February 19, 2014
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.
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
everywhere
a soul cross–|–es his path <>
reflecting angles / \ the world shaped
in brilliant – insight(ing) –
light shimmering
rare
truths lost to most / \
fitting perfectly /\\ asymmetrical \
images breathtaking(ly)
(& real) together
for a breath
before
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 write...to feel the pencil glide across paper...as 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.
a kaleidoscope of phrases
twisting gems <> colored
auras he reads
like the back of his hand
everywhere
a soul cross–|–es his path <>
reflecting angles / \ the world shaped
in brilliant – insight(ing) –
light shimmering
rare
truths lost to most / \
fitting perfectly /\\ asymmetrical \
images breathtaking(ly)
(& real) together
for a breath
before
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 write...to feel the pencil glide across paper...as 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 thoughts...here 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
Philophobia
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 meter...so 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.
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 meter...so 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.
Thursday, December 5, 2013
Alone w/ Hope
 |
| Alone w/ Hope (image by rmp, that's me) |
Inspiration for this piece: Lately I've been pondering hope. And while it seems wrong, it does quite feel as though it is burning me from the inside out - an all consuming fire that rages, suffocating me. I know there is a poem hidden somewhere in this feeling, but it has yet to surface. In the meantime, I dug up this picture, which was used as inspiration for a previous piece (totally unrelated to hope). I took what little words I had and crafted this.
Behind the image: I couldn't help myself...I had to take this picture of a way-to-busy-&-gaudy casino carpet...most people I've asked see an owl. I see a face burning in hellish flames clawing to escape.
Wednesday, November 27, 2013
PEACE
PEACE
release
quietus
wary fingers move
~ curious ... uncertain ~
seeking a form of closure
"life's inevitable repose."
Inspiration for this piece: Three Word Wednesday (3WW) offers up a selection of words every week. My fingers itching to compose again sought out the word for this week in the hopes of finding some form of peace. The words offered up this week were curious, inevitable, and wary.
A note on form: There really wasn't much choice in the matter. I have a tendency to lean toward this form when the last Wednesday of the week crosses paths with 3WW. This is a clarity pyramid. Typically the syllable constraints (1,2,3 // 5,6,7 // 8) lend themselves toward a triangular structure (thus pyramid), but as is the case with some crazy multi-syllable words this effect is not always fully achieved. This piece would be an example of that departure.
Exposing word choice: I initially settled on a 'word' to write my second stanza with after composing the first line of the second stanza. I proceeded to finish the stanza before turning to the first stanza and the 'word' I had selected, "DEATH." After quite some back-and-forth trying to uncover the next two lines, I looked at the word "closure" (stanza 2, line 3) and that in conjunction with "quietus" which was one of my choices for the initial 3-syllable line for "DEATH," caused me to change course and settle instead on "PEACE." There is something about "PEACE" that just speaks to the overall verse in a variety of ways; I just couldn't help but steal its essence.
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