Author Topic: 30:30 - Poem #1  (Read 20279 times)

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Offline Soft Words

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Re: 30:30 - Poem #16 & 17
« Reply #28 on: December 18, 2008, 12:02 AM »
My life is spiraling out of control, I'm letting it go. I just typed up yesterday's pome, I wrote it out on paper because I didn't have a computer handy, then I had no time to type it up. (too much time playing with the adowabble munchkin I get to live with :D)

12.16.08

She runs around, peddling kisses
and hugs –
will you let me put the paper towels in the water
and color the keyboard in green Crayola?
I’ll give you a free hug and a kiss.


Two little padded feet in pajamas
pattering around the house,
following me into places of solitude.
Hello home! I’m home!
Juice pweez!
Wanna swing!
PIZZA!


I’ve been trying to distill her adorable
into a vial, freezing moments of time
in pictures on my phone.
Simple, everyday words changed
and modified into beauty
on the lips of a child trying to fit her tongue
around them, teaching me yet again
how sweet a gift
a hug can be.


12.17.08

Opulence has nothing to do with it.

It has everything to do with elegance
and your skill with the implements you wield.
The dull shimmer of leather
is part of your aura
just as much as the silken whisper
of my stockings. I’ve blindfolded the bluejay
on the wall; just so you know.

I know you could charm the letters off
the billboards with steel chip eyes;
my legs have been arranged
to make a vowel.
Take your pick, they all mean the same,
just like the third bottle
of oak-matured… something.

Life isn't about waiting for the storms to pass, it's about learning to dance in the rain.

Offline nixon

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Re: 30:30 - Poem #1
« Reply #29 on: December 19, 2008, 06:24 AM »
Arti,

Wonderful, I very much enjoyed them all, only 13 more days if you are counting!! I am on day 15 and I am almost grinding to a stop.  I love this poem

12.11.08

Bring me the sliced yellow flowers
and the petunias starved for kisses
because the winds have been
recalcitrant.

Reams and spools of silk,
harem pants in hot pink,
pencil heels on endless legs.
Welcome to my fantasies,
step in to my boudoir.

Weave me a web
and trap me in my need
half a pout away
from the kaleidoscope
of completion.

the tone, the images and the wonderful sounds and I found the letter to the Woman who Set her Son On Fire, a very powerful piece.  Sending you positive and creative vibes.  I have found historically for me days 15-20 the hardest, and about day 20 you start the down count, sometimes I write haiku or cinqauin a day or two to let the creative juices rest.   Very big hugs.

xxooxox

:) brenda
In loving Memory
Justin Michael Owen
1987-2004
Only the good die young

Offline Soft Words

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Re: 30:30 - Poem #18 and 19
« Reply #30 on: December 20, 2008, 04:27 PM »
Brenda, 'tis always good to see you. The letter to that crazy mother, one of the patients we're taking care of. How crazy do you have to be to burn your own baby boy? Don't know. I wrote a cinquain variant yesterday, before I read your post, so we're on the same page. How awesome is that, we're on the same page.

I'm having internet issues, my computer is going bonkers in its efforts to implode and die. So while I still have access, here's #18 and #19.

12.18.08
{I have been reading with the adowabble kiddie I live with. And reading sparks some thoughts far away from my rotation. Woohoo. I love kids!}

Have you ever looked at
princesses in fairy tale books,
and wondered why they all have
alabaster skin
and china blue eyes?

Mirror, mirror on the wall!
Who is the fairest of them all?


Why can’t they have a hairy mole or two
on that perfect upper lip? Or a smattering of freckles
in secret places?
Perhaps an attack of chickenpox to mark them
for a while, render them untouchable?

Why do they all fall in love
or out of it
all the time? How come
every prince in the land falls for them?

They used to tell me I was a princess.
I had the chicken pox,
a hidden mole or two,
and dimples in sacred places.

No princes bewailed their love
at my door, perhaps I need a fortress.
Oh the minstrels they saunter by,
often stoppering their fiery words,
giving me the gentler ones instead:
Patience. Calm. Confidence.

I can only come up with one line tonight,
and these words are not my own:


Mirror, mirror on the wall, who is the fairest of them all?



12.19.08
{This is a butterfly cinquain.}

Find me.
Kaleidoscopes
have tried and failed sadly,
miserably, even, you know.
Do you
care enough to find this lost one?
I am the naked one
who needs a heart
to live.
Life isn't about waiting for the storms to pass, it's about learning to dance in the rain.

Offline Soft Words

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Re: 30:30 - Poem #20
« Reply #31 on: December 20, 2008, 08:06 PM »
Another fun form called an etheree. Its another syllabic form, the syllable count increases by one on each line till line ten. I tried doing a double etheree where the poem goes from one to ten to one, but it wasn't working, so each verse is an etheree by itself.

(Edit: the above sounds nerdy, I could have just hyperlinked the information. Okay, I'll stop. My muse is banging on the door, she dosen't know I'm done for today. Should be fun telling her, haha.)


Ah.
Silence.
It crept up
so stealthily,
she didn’t feel it grow
and expand and fill up
her space, her refuge, her room.
The words were all soon expunged,
forgotten by the wayside, a group
of elite iambs abandoned again.

If
it were
possible,
there would have been
a mutiny – but
it was too hard. No word
was ready to lose letters
like people lose limbs in a war.
The words refused to mix their letters
for one incomparable word, and were lost.
Life isn't about waiting for the storms to pass, it's about learning to dance in the rain.

Offline Kay

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Re: 30:30 - Poem #1
« Reply #32 on: December 20, 2008, 11:28 PM »
Arti, I was just browsing and find this so interesting.
I have watched your poetry evolve into something so wonderful.
I love reading you!  :rose

Offline Soft Words

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Re: 30:30 - Poem #21
« Reply #33 on: December 21, 2008, 10:40 PM »
Kay, thank you so much for making my day. It is always wonderful to see you around and hear from you. I'm glad you dropped by!

The form of the day is a terza rima. It was fun to work on. There was a time when I was obsessed with learning different forms of poetry, then I shifted focus to actually writing poetry as opposed to filling words into a set syllable count.

I also spent today learning to record a poem, now I have to figure out how to make a poem into a video. I may post the audio so far just for kicks, it is a poem I posted in this forum not too long ago. I even found some background music that worked perfectly - and its copyright free, yay me.


Grow me a blossom worthy of a kiss,
a fae-like spirit enrobed in red scent,
and give it to me on a night of bliss.

Tend it with a love that is truly meant!
Just one single flower is all I ask,
A small token of your precious assent

to take me on as a delicate task.
Oh hold me close forever and a day!
I will let you inside behind my mask

but all I ask, love, is for you to stay.

Life isn't about waiting for the storms to pass, it's about learning to dance in the rain.

Offline Soft Words

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Re: 30:30 - Poem #22
« Reply #34 on: December 23, 2008, 12:03 AM »
A zen-ish write. I don't know where this came from, just a free write today morning while I waited for my patient to be transported from ER to ICU.


There are no words for certain... things.
Things like
the alliterative melancholy
of a wailing toddler
or the grief stricken tears
of the bipolar sky.
Or stepping out to get groceries,
then waking up to a white ceiling
and a brand new colostomy,
trying to find an answer for
"How do you feel?"

I want to be a peacock,
a poster child
for rainforest green
and flamboyant turquoise,
move my feet
for an unfettered rain dance,
to laugh out loud at the colorlessness
of the air escaping
from a brightly colored balloon.
I suppose my life would go out
similarly, the warmth
taken out sinuously from
brilliant tailfeathers;
but there are no words for that
either.

Life isn't about waiting for the storms to pass, it's about learning to dance in the rain.

Offline Mystic1

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Re: 30:30 - Poem #1
« Reply #35 on: December 23, 2008, 12:32 AM »
Wow, Arti, these images are absolutely brilliant...striking... breathtaking. G.
I believe in making the world safe for our children, but not for our children's children, because I don't think children should be having sex.

Offline Soft Words

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Re: 30:30 - Poem #1
« Reply #36 on: December 23, 2008, 12:43 AM »
:) G, glad you could see the visuals.
This is a great writing exercise, if I can get one poem to stand on its feet then I have achieved something special.
Life isn't about waiting for the storms to pass, it's about learning to dance in the rain.

Offline Soft Words

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Re: 30:30 - Poem #23
« Reply #37 on: December 23, 2008, 05:55 PM »
Today's pome, somehow turned into a villanelle. Yikes. So here's a villanelle for the Guy I know is out there.

12.23.08

Give me a reason, make me want to stay -
maybe a night of lovin' and a kiss? -
and I will walk by your side all the way.

I will rouse you, find hope even in dismay,
in simplicity I will find us bliss.
Give me a reason, make me want to stay.

My needs you must fulfil, my fears allay
my idiosyncracies you mustn't dismiss -
and I will walk by your side all the way.

After the skies turn from blue to gray
and when you have begun to go amiss,
give me a reason, make me want to stay.

Frolicking gaily in the monsoon spray,
through thrill and adventure I'm a princess
and I will walk by your side all the way.

I sing, I rhyme, and oh can I sashay!
Poems are rooted deep in my bodice.
Give me a reason, make me want to stay,
and I will walk by your side all the way.
Life isn't about waiting for the storms to pass, it's about learning to dance in the rain.

Offline Soft Words

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Re: 30:30 - Poem #24
« Reply #38 on: December 24, 2008, 09:35 PM »
Head bowed, she walks past the bare trees,
their arms raised to the heavens
like men who have been bereft of love.
They remind her
of boys from the past –
Jake, who snuck his hands
up her skirt more than once, Lucas,
the guy who took her to her first movie –
they both went to the war,
never to come back; Bob,
the dumbwitted prick who ran for his life
when she took off her clothes,
and later became godfather to her first son;
Neil, who wore her first engagement
proudly on his camouflage sleeve.

Then there were the men,
grassflowers that renege on their promises,
plentiful by the roadside, while she bore boys
and raised them to be asters.
Fat purple heads of crocus
wave to her from a Walgreen window
like the forbidden men her friends
sent Dear John letters to.
The fruit of her womb went to war
and met up with the ghosts from her past –
Jake and Lucas and Bob and Neil,
who all might have fathered the oldest –
and they exchanged secrets safe from the living.
Life isn't about waiting for the storms to pass, it's about learning to dance in the rain.

Offline Soft Words

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Re: 30:30 - Poem #1
« Reply #39 on: December 26, 2008, 01:57 AM »
Winter

Winter
laden boughs rise,
pathetic, lovelorn, cold,
especially on Christmassy
white nights.


{This is the third time I'm trying to post this - if it dosen't work, then I'll give up and post it tomorrow. or today. whatever.}
Life isn't about waiting for the storms to pass, it's about learning to dance in the rain.

Offline Soft Words

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Re: 30:30 - Poem #26
« Reply #40 on: December 27, 2008, 12:24 AM »
{zen-ish free write.}


there are lines on my palms,
inscrutable secrets
I live with everyday.
there is a lifeline that fades away
before the end;
a love line that is intersected,
bisected, trisected.

I have always sucked at drawing.
The peacocks turned into peahens on my easel,
amebic colors running, mixing, mating,
my lines undefined.
I tried to draw one bold line
but managed to wash it away
several times with tears.

The lines on my hands
have been thrown into sharp relief
every time that happens,
permanent marker
temporarily staining my skin
and flowing as rivulets,
turning into rivers
river deltas
pooling in the cusp
of my lifeline and travel-line.

My loveline is never bold –
it is a wispy thing
that bonds with my study line,
on the ventral side
of my metatarso-carpal joint
from start to end,
sharing intersection and trisection,
ad infinitum.

My study line is longer than my lifeline.
Does that mean
I will be taking exams
forever?
Life isn't about waiting for the storms to pass, it's about learning to dance in the rain.

Offline Soft Words

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Re: 30:30 - Poem #27
« Reply #41 on: December 27, 2008, 11:29 PM »
{Yes, I learnt Latin, and it is a cool language. Even if it is dead. And it fits better than the English. Translation provided below the poem.}

I have no fingers to feel with,
no one to reach out for.
My breath comes in little wisps,
pale ghosts telling me
I'm alive.
In the twilight darkness,
my mind is hypaethral,
perhaps even transparent.

Quis operor sequor?
Est is sententia
vel est is flumen in suus tractus??

Lacuna es decessio mihi.
English est haud diutius meus castrum.




(What do I follow?
Is it thought
or is it a river in its course?

The words are leaving me.
English is no longer my forte.)
Life isn't about waiting for the storms to pass, it's about learning to dance in the rain.