Contented

.
.
Sun
Dappled
Shimmering
Full of promise
With daylight dawning

Tears
Are done
I know this
Down to my core
As I stretch yawning

So
I rise
Contented
Feel my soul smile
In this new morning

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Welcome to the Arun.

A nonce poem created by friend and fellow blogger, GirlGriot. An Arun is a fifteen-line poem in three sets of five lines. Each set of five lines follows the same syllable structure: starting with one syllable and increasing by one syllable with each line. 1/2/3/4/5 — 3x. There are no other rhyme or structural requirements.  Though all of hers, so far, were left aligned and not rhymed, I took a little poetic license here.

dVerse  Poets Pub | OpenLinkNight Week 113

Welcome

.
.
Traded as payment for overdue wage
She knows, though it’s gilded, it’s still a cage
She’s yet to see sun
Shipped from place to place, displayed on a stage
To those whose tastes prefer ones underage
For sick sense of fun

She’s told back home no one’s missed her absence
She does not believe in their evidence
But bows to their might
Forced to do things against her conscience
Knowing what they do to those called nuisance
Flees into the night

Thunder rolls, storm clouds brew:
It was the sound of His measure of her trouble
It was the sound of His dread for her plight

Bloodied to a near pulp from being beat
In deepest fear of the oncoming feet
It was much too near
Oblivious to the filthy concrete
She lays prostrate in the dark on the street
It’s all she can hear

Brought to this new land for a tidy sum
From a land she never asked to leave from
She was their plaything
Smelling of cocaine, and cheap stale rum
She lays there waiting for death to come
She hears them calling

Lightning strikes, raindrops pelt:
It was the sound as His anger mounts
It was the sound of His tears falling

Glass grinds into her already raw shin
The pain raises a moan from deep within
They hear her outcry
A tear is slowly sliding down her chin
As they plunder through her most tender skin
Knives do not ask why

As each breath she takes become more shallow
Smiling, she knows she won’t see tomorrow
Her end has begun
She’s raised from the filth in which she wallows
A shining light eases her deep sorrow
At last she sees sun

Dew drops, Sun rises:
It was the sound as His arms open
It was the sound of His words of welcome

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dVerse ~ Poets Pub | OpenLinkNight : Week 93

The Quiet Before

 

She sits in the window seat and sighs
wondering what malarkey would have
such cool gray shades of the overcast day
dull the warm hues that should be autumn
Her front lawn only a sliver off
the near gaudy emerald of summer
was still a vibrant green

A spring green she thinks

Spring when everything begins
with summer’s long stemmed promises
only to fall — the beginning of the end
an early trespass to winter

Nor does the contrast
of the blood red dianthus
against the bright white
of Queen Anne’s Lace escape her

Now past their prime
their wilted blooms too heavy
for their aged jade stems
like an unhanded puppet
leaned over in resolute defeat
to the inevitable

She reaches out in comfort
She reaches out for comfort
to the hands and the heavy heart
that shares all she feels now
as the back the door opens

The only pleasantry being the smile
that quickly departs his face
as wife and mistress turn to him
fingers interlaced, hearts ripped open
Fate catching them as off guard
as they have caught him now

In the quiet before…

 

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Weapon of Choice

 

 

Do I commend? Do I condemn?
Letting you worry,
Brow arched, I smile – walk away.
My weapon of choice.

====================
(My apologies to those expecting Fatboy Slim / Christopher Walken :-p)

Learned of a new form yesterday – Naani

The Naani is one of the Indian popular Telugu poems. Naani means an expression of one and all. This very short form consists of 4 lines with the lines totaling 20 to 25 syllables. The poem is not bounded to a particular subject. Generally it depends upon human relations and current statements.

And Yet I Know…

 

 
I smile as flowers start to grow
But yet I know
The season holds bittersweet sting
Every spring
The air hints warm, yet brings scant bliss
It’s you I miss
These moments when I go through this
This woe is never long to last
And joy of longer days come fast
But yet I know, every spring, it’s you I miss

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Welcome to the Oviellejo

The Oviellejo is an Old Spanish verse form (derived from ovillo, a ball of yarn). A stanza consists of 10 lines, with a rhyme scheme of AABBCCCDDC. The second line of each rhyme scheme, Line 2,4,6, is short line of up to 5 syllables. The last line is a “redondilla,” a “little round” that collects all three of the short lines.

Open Link Night ~ 91

The Transition

This isn’t a gift you give just to the curious
One has to know for sure if the intent is serious
Some things mere words never explains
It is known only through our blood in your veins
Are you truly aware of all that you inquire?
She smiles and asks yet again for her hearts desire

He smiles at the throat she willingly bares
And takes what is offered, all that he dares

She savors the last of her own natural blood’s gore
From the bit inner cheek whose wound is no longer sore
The nearby roses scent fades like slowly closing drawer
The last thing she hears is her final drop bleed
Darkness closing around her, ‘til all that’s left is Need

She swoons trapped in the power of the most fatal kiss
For the briefest of moments her former life does she miss

As she laps greedily at the slit wrist offered unto her trembling lip
And then her new reality begins to take grip

She gives her eyes time to adjust to the new clarity
the beating wings of a fly enters her ears with an equal parity
Odors and aromas not noticed before becoming verity
She focuses on a single globule pulsing through a single capillary
Chablis? She asks of the faint taste in his blood from wine sipped earlier that day

Now that you have it, is this all you thought it would be?
Oh yes! And so much, much more than you ever told me!

Remembering his very first night kiss, his very first night’s plunder
He can’t help but be affected by her new found wonder
A perfect heartbeat from another room breaks through the din
He smiles consent to the unasked question she holds within
She laughs gaily, sauntering off to her first foray
For the first time in her life, truly understanding the word prey

====================

dVerse ~ Poets Pub : Vampires

Memory


Oh sometimes I see her undressing for me,
she’s the soft naked lady love meant her to be
and she’s moving her body so brave and so free.
If I’ve got to remember that’s a fine memory
Tonight Will Be Fine – Leonard Cohen

It’s been seventeen years to the day
Since the love of all time went away
I have taken up some count of others in time
A fleeting rendezvous, a phase, merely a mime
Of she who’s measure of love was so sublime
In my minds eye the only place left to see
The unabashed beauty she brought to my life
It’s been quite a clock’s beat since she was my wife
If I’ve got to remember that’s a fine memory
Oh sometimes I see her undressing for me, 

Sometimes shyly, sometimes bold
Her shift of moods just never grew old
She was a force of nature in a human space
I know it’s a period of time I just can’t replace
Still I know it’s what I search in each new face
Just a smidgen of her essence in each body
Granted their faces are hardly same
And it’s cruel to them caught in my game
Oh sometimes I see her undressing for me,
She’s the soft naked lady love meant her to be 

In public she joked she hated my whiskers
Our joke word for liquor and how it just tickled her
When it dripped in my beard then I kissed her within
She had a rhythm that filled me with such a yen
That only she could fulfill again and again
Time softened us both as time should
But like aged whiskers and cheese – so beyond good
She’s the soft naked lady love meant her to be
And she’s moving her body so brave and so free. 

Sometimes in throes, I’m almost there
Where all I can feel of her fills the air
And in those moments on the verge
I’ll swear it’s her passions I feel surge
But try as I might I can’t hold that urge
And must lapse to facts of my reality
But in that moment life’s so incredibly kind
In those visions of her I hold in my mind
And she’s moving her body so brave and so free
If I’ve got to remember that’s a fine memory

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Back to my beloved Glosa form and more borrowed lines from Leonard Cohen.

The glosa is a Spanish form that also works well in English.   Glosas open with a quatrain from another poet, called the cabeza, followed by four ten-line stanzas terminating with the lines of the initial cabeza in consecutive order.  The sixth and ninth lines of each stanza rhyme with the borrowed tenth line and is the only required rhyme of the poem. There is no set meter or syllable count for a Glosa, however, a good flow is always recommended.

Entered in:

dVerse Poets Pub } OpenLinkNight – Week 41

When The Music Moves

When the music moves the chef and the menu
I can not help but rock to the venue,

I grate and wind and fold and dip, all while cooking and that’s just my hips

Serving Foie gras to a Beyoncé bass beat?
I’ve played Metallica while serving Crème brûlée sweet.

I sway to a strawberry’s single sweet soliloquy
As I would to any doo-wop’s three-part harmony

My sifter sounds like maracas, the water running is backup hum,
And I’ll drop them all in heartbeat to do a Phil Collin’s air drum

Notes ringing crystal clear as an opera singer
Are like the perfect bite whose flavors linger

The perfect flavors require as much of a chef’s orchestration
As any conductor pulling together a musical temptation

And I dance as I chop and I chop as I sing and I sing as I fry, it’s a symbiotic thing

I can not help but rock to the venue,
When the music moves the chef and the menu

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Written for

Poetry Picnic Week 32: Topics on Twitter.com

Source Tweet: When Music Moves The Chef And The Menu

To those not familiar with Phil Collins I included a link to the reference within the poem. While the specific drum solo starts after the 5:00 mark, you really should listen to the entire song to get the full feel on why any of us familiar with the song will drop almost everything when that part comes to do the air drum.

On Fire

Conflagration doused

In an
Exquisite cacophony of aches
I wake

Ethereal reminisces
Running abstract through my psyche
I smile

Sweet Luna
Had lain witness to the battle
Picking sides

Twin flames
Of our conjoined fires danced under
Indigo skies

Dragon shelved
You sleep the sleep of the just
Of angels

El Sol
In spangling coda, makes nimbus of
Your hair

But I
I know the beast is still inside and
You stir

Gently unfolding
The origami of our limbs
You wake

And blink
The ferment in my eyes your only warning
You smile

I inhale
And watch as sparks shimmy anew in your eyes
Then exhale

Flame on!

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Written for:

Poetry Jam | The Flame

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The Sunday Whirl – Anniversary Wordle

Write a poem using the following words:

aches, abstract, cacophony, coda,  dragon, ethereal,
exquisite, ferment,  origami, shelved, shimmy, spangling

 

The Mountain

The Rock Pile - Vietnam

The Rock Pile - Vietnam

Before me stands the mountain
Immense in its unbiased demand
That it will not be ignored

A violet by a mossy stone,
The rock I hid behind in the first skirmishes
Was a pale shade of that which was to come

It is an icon of headlong promises
Some made in the shadows of truth
While in a jaded light, others lie

I cannot take my time
Its force compels my movement
Yet I wait in silent vexation to approach

In the magic of a dancing wind
Fluttering leaves paint a serene scene
And I let my eyes drink a sky of stars

But in the bullet riddled heat of reality
There’s no time to engage thoughts of yesterday
This day, is the only day in existence

I did not elect this course of action
I just seek the balance between truths and lies
As I fight for another change of day

I am battered and bloodied
In more than just this weary shell of a body
Praying for just one more day and a wake-up

Pale eyes hang on blue faces
Some in envy, as others give thanks
The war for them is not over, but I am done

Behind me stands the mountain
My crossing complete, but in a perfect world
I’d have never had to cross it in the first place

Dog Tags

History.Net - Dog Tags found in South East Asia

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dVerse Poet Pub | Poetics – Duty Calls