Given sweet release, on a sultry night One hears the morning bird’s song, I close my eyes and breathe deep It bans the darkness, heeding ganja’s call Sleep a hazy memory, in the aromatic flush Bright music waking the soul, all coherent thinking lost
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Tonight on dVerse Poets Pub Mish challenges us to flush things out in a quadrille – a poem of exactly 44 words not including the title. One of those 44 words must be the prompt – flush..
As I worked this out I realized I was on the path to creating a Super Tanka, so I just went with Muse and combined both. And being that today is 4/20 my mind naturally went to ganja’s call…
LIFE
living
existence
one day at a time
for the rest of your time
trying to be at one's best
'because the alternative sucks'
CHANCE
fortune
in fate's hand
opportunity
it's not in your control
what turns the wheel, guides the die
'life, the moment your eyes open'
DEATH
finite
infinite
it is what it is
for as long as we're here
It's not as long as we're gone
'it is the great equalizer'
PAIN
anguish
agony
in body or soul
and oftentimes in both
you bear the unbearable
'it's what lets you know you're alive'
FAITH
belief
conviction
the ultimate trust
is the substance of hope
evidence of things not seen
'all that I have left in me now'
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It’s Open Link Night at dVerse Poets Pub and a join in with a Clarity Pyramid poetry form for National Poetry Writing Month.
This is the only true terror to be
The blinking cursor that moves not one space
Or those ruled lines that scream to be penned on
A page that’s blank, while pen is full scares me
Thoughts clash around in ambiguity
Those wisps of words, so close within my grasp
Yet I cannot make heads nor tails of it
This is the only true terror to be
Sometimes mere scribbles are all that I see
But at least there is hope for something more
Empty eight by elevens have no chance
A page that’s blank, while pen is full scares me
This is the only true terror to be
For someone whose whole life depends on words
A page that’s blank, while pen is full scares me
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Yes, all of the world is a stage my friends At least it is told what the people say From when we begin until our time ends Our too brief ride held in Sol’s sweet sway And it matters not what part we will play For as prince or pawn is roll of the die At Act I, Scene I: curtains rise: we all cry
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Tonight at dVerse Frank challenges us to “is to write a poem with seven lines.” For those who want to go a further we are challenged to make it like a Chaucerian stanza/Rime Royal – is a seven-line poem in iambic pentameter with a rhyme scheme of ABABBCC.
And I don’t want the world to see me Cause I don’t think that they’d understand When everything’s made to be broken I just want you to know who I am “Iris” by the Goo-Goo Dolls / “City of Angels” Soundtrack
Some question my sanity year after year That I’ m not quite right is abundantly clear Stepping in and out of darkened lucidity The voices in my head are mostly a minor din But that yellow dress you wore that day did me in It was the red cape to the bull of my insanity And the voice gained control was full of hate As you stepped to me smiling sealing your fate For my mood was downright ugly And I don’t want the world to see me
I don’t deny what I’ve done to some women is sick But you weren’t like those yacht girls who fall so quick All their smiling as they think I’m at their command They dangle promises of a young love so sweet But it’s me holding their hearts, feeling their heat And then ripping it from them with my bare hand But you, you disregard all concepts of my deceiving My inner voices wondering why aren’t you leaving Never having had an experience like this firsthand ‘Cause I don’t think that they’d understand
False yore flows from my cruel lips with ease Yards of lies with an inch of truth to please The truth a means of passage, merely a token So you yawn in my face, knowing it’s unwise And yet you laugh seeing the truth in all the lies Behind every filthy word I’ve ever spoken From you the truth shines bright and sure The lightness of your heart, ywis so pure But can I believe your heart is solid – oaken? When everything’s made to be broken
And so you survived more than just the night Even knowing down deep I may never be right For goodness knows I really didn’t give a damn If you drowned in all the tears you yield Brought on by all these damn fears I field ‘Cause you were never part of the program But you’re still here and nothing denies How I yearn for the feel of your light in my eyes But mine are the eyes of a tragedy ma’am I just want you to know who I am
<>========<> One of my favorite poetry forms: a Glosa.
Swearing up a blue streak The grain of his outer staff Perfectly matching my inner sculpture I weather the frothy current Tinkling down the esophageal path In a flight of carnal – carnival – carnivore joy The apparition of the newly dead bird laid to rest
The morning air purred contentedly
In azures bright and clearly
Enough to see forever
Comforting as a warm wrap and a good read
Oh put it in a box for me indeed
In retrospect I should have known better
Of course it’s going to turn like this
The barometer drops to ruin my bliss
And the azures hiss and howl to a sleet of slate
I retrieve my umbrella placed out of sight
For the barking and caterwauling out tonight
Felines and canines dampening on our date
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Having silliness with a common analogy for uncommon weather
Raivenne-lations 