Friday, November 30, 2012

The Contrast of Was and IS

the morning was drizzly,
shedding sooty tears
that an angel could not conceal

this monster I had clothed,
felt obliged and half-provoked,
to claim the misfortun’ of intention

he then fell

into bondage, a slavery to the tragic mysteries
of incongruity and argumentative attention

In a most uncomfortable way,
I concealed the fact in such strange directions
                                                                        “This was all my fault!”
But mourning stopped suspicion.

“I frowned it down, not with pleasure though.
 I am not a worthy man; but one bound with considerable disturbances.”

 Over at D'Verse, Anna is hosting Meeting The Bar and she's presented a pretty neat exercise in poetry.  Definitely read her article and the links she's provided, they are all very good and extremely informative.  Erasure Poetry, briefly, is like Found Poetry, in that you take another piece of text and you erase words, keeping the ones you want to use and then, from those words leftover, you create a poem of your own.  For this piece I used the Charles Dickens classic Great Expectations.  All the words in this piece can be found in Chapter 27.  

So head on over, having this many Erasure poems in one spot is a treat, and should not be missed.

Wednesday, November 28, 2012

Sense of Home

You broke through
The walls I’ve built,
Smashed them down,
With fists laced in guilt, allowing
Only silhouettes their rightful place in line

You pushed me away to far withdrawn
After hearing you sing your lonely song
Yet I’d be tethered back to you
But only after you heard me aligning
With some other’s sad refrain

shower in, upon me now
shower down, drench me here
with your light, wash away
my every sense of fear

You took my tears,
You took them all, vialed
Each and capped their lids,
Forever keeping me near,
holding my desires ever closer still

You closed these eyes,
White circles dyed brown,
You closed these lids,
Lest I should frown, seeing
Clearly, all the world’s disturbances

shower in, upon me now
shower down, drench me here
with your light ,wash away
my every sense of fear

But never would you show your face
Always coddling behind those swathing silks,

And never would you speak your name
Only ever speaking through the eyes alone

In which, I’ve finally found a place my own
Therein finding what’s been missing,

That elusive feeling when one wanders stray
That craving urge, the daydreams that steal away
Never fully realized, never truly honed
Until one returns, forever,
to that loving sense of home.

Shared with the great poets over at D'Verse.  OLN is in full effect, stop on by for the best poetry on the internet.  While you're there, share a poem of your own.  We'd all love to read it.  

Tuesday, November 27, 2012

Fun With Words

Northern Interjection
not quite failing
Hangs out with Silent Bob
Judi Dench role
Born on Continuum
Children under 17 require accompanying parent or guardian
Mark’s the Spot

Little game, pretty simple really.  See how quickly you can figure it out.  There are some simple clues/giveaways within. The only clue I'll provide:  If you find yourself stumped for any reason, sometimes it's best to remove your eyes from the individual and to assess the problem as a whole.

Monday, November 26, 2012

Regarding a Few Symbols that Frequent Dreams

                           Contentment, however small
You’re pleased with ancient things—
                  And all your ways are just fine

The kind attention of strangers
Dumpling…Dumpling, eat or make—
         And find your stress alleviate

                  You open your walls to guests unknown—
                                    And a renewal of friendships shall flow
         Stability & security, in life, connected to nature’s vine

                  Eating the sweetest peach—
                                    Pleasure lies ahead
The Sentry waits—
     To protect you kindly, as life moves smoothly
                           The augurs of good health and happiness
The trout signifies a growing prosperity.

Sunday, November 25, 2012

The Requiem and Potential Rebirth upon Preparation's Stage

Before action, comes reflection
upon each question yet to come

Flowing shades of random heights
distill the directions of this future's plight.

protesting or in affirmation, of the shape of space yet to foil

The buildup is the monster we must
slay, nerves, multiplying and thusly spawning

the angst of an evenings slumber lacking assembly,
where true sleep, can be snared by the nightmares net,

As caution's imbalanced by our demons flesh and frame,
for with anticipation, doubt and it's distress are certain to claim

the seeded revelations lost to our many tracts of unplowed soil

Rigid breaths quickly fill, spurring forth the weathered lung,
tepidly pacing each inhalant razed, as exhaled words expunge

rapid measures stirred within, beleaguering conditions born unto
accepted frames of clouded hue, dyeing calmness the colors needed to

foster growth within ourselves, for without, we cannot speak,
and tightly skewered life unglues, severing self upon fate's peak,

where crags punctuate the twisting paths of acmes coil

The quivering moves that make the bow,
unsteadying an aim that's hindered slow

The bass-less voice becomes the arrow, engrained
fears bite down, into a loveless marrow deeply strained

Sautéing respite blind and braised, tunneling cruel
the archer's sight, where a shivered imbalance sets to duel

An internal storm, preceded by its tolling gale,
thoughts breed altered, fingers twinge as pallor pales

the force one pursued, casting frost upon dominion's toil

The student waits in painful pause,
the teacher blames the lies crafted by applause

riddling the jester with glances, heckling forth gestures,
serving the accomplice alone, abetting stagnation and each its slurs,

Our hero swoons in abandonment, staring long unto frozen seas,
bearing witness to the deadliest of dreams

But onward he must, recapturing a light long since dark
Out of practice, out of sorts, yet still he must embark,

over this dirty forge, where each misstep further roils

First scanning through the banks of thought,
seeking that something that's since been lost

bursting forth, the epiphany swallows
allowing preparation a rebirth hallowed

With sword in hand, shield concealing the right
Shining in his armor, he basks aglow, treading toward this light

The words arrive, one and all, he listens, he knows, he now can tell
the truth, the way, to vanquish forever, this darkened spell

The message lines his thoughts.  The wisdom is his power.
Each distance grows close and near.  He is upon the final hour.

Stage's all set, the curtain sprawls, the cast is prepped and true
Our hero lives here internal, reliving all the choices he needs to

Slowly he alters shape, into a hero filled with ire and consumed by rage
and yet, he understands, that if fright should set upon the stage

all will be as well can be, for a society such as this
it's simply a case of dues unpaid, to transform the drama into a comedy

as we know, the world loves a train wreck just as loyally

Over at D'Verse, Mary offers us the notion of preparation for this week's Poetics.  Stop on over, read her excellent article and then stop on by each poet's site for their response.  Most likely you'll find yourself inspired and prepared, to compose a piece of your own.  Once you do, link it up and share it with all the other poets at D'verse.

Saturday, November 24, 2012

Some Thanksgiving Inspired Acrostics

Tales oft told
Under pressure, with such
Flair, affective as it may
Find itself to be, the deadened nerve
In which, observation etches it’s one true mark, one
Never to ignore, one overzealous to the touch, a crutch, my
Gluttony! is devoured full.

Gradations haunt the varied steps of lost
Realms newly felt, where cursive slants control the lead
And starts to blush unto, italicizing its emphasis upon the
Varied spectacles alive in


Willingly permitted
Entry to the
Emphatic search for change
That’s urge had forever imprisoned you

Pour on the afterglow, with a glistening tint
Observed as tints that sparkle
Overshadows the easily ignored

Postures held
Inside, where
Enigmas now freely breathe

Enters and
The executioners
Severed scape

Light, begins with

Trembling.  Here, our every
Awe, speaking as if each syllable is our most primal,
Basic to the core, yet never
Limited as is found in the neophyte, where knowledge is
Elementary, broadening each of our experiences, through
Subtleties that shape the form within

Terror is the basis for those emotions
Unknown.  We shed our skin.  We begin anew. A
Reformation clearly focusing our mental
Kinship towards all those
Elating fluttering sidesteps that
You cannot attempt to comprehend.

 Well, didn't really have the time to get on board yesterday, too much going on.  But over at D'Verse a lot of great Acrostics can be found.  The link's close for new submissions, but they are immortalized for one's poetic pleasure.  I definitely recommend  you stop on by.  Hope everyone in the states had a great Thanksgiving, and for those not, I hope your Thursday was a great one.