Tag Archives: Poetry

Let Me Be There

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Sometimes life just isn’t good,
Nothing feels right, nothing feels like it should
Let me be the one you call
Let me be there

It’s the Tree of Life, we all get to climb
But you may feel you’re out on a weak limb
If you jump I’ll break your fall
Let me be there

Abandon the flaws, just forget it
But never give up on belief in mirabilia, let it
Lift you up and fly away with you into the night
Let me be there 

When you feel the apotropaic fail
I can hold you close should you want to wail
If you need to fall apart
Let me be there 

Let me be the lucida of your soul
Should the darkness baldly enter, grow to take control
I can mend a broken heart
Let me be there 

Hey, it’s plausible that you’re only human
That there will be days when it’s just more than
If you need to crash, then crash and burn
Let me be there 

We’re all in this through tense and tender
So on the days that you feel different remember
You’re not alone
Let me be there
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Italicized lines from “Crash and Burn” by Savage Garden
Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie| Music Prompt # 75 “Crash and Burn”

Bold words from:
Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie Wordle #144 “February 27th, 2017″

Good, Enter, Tree, Mirabilis, Different, Abandon, Plausible, Lucida, Bald, Flaw, Apotropaic, Grow

Use at least ten in a poem or story.

Real Toads: The Tuesday Platform

Giggle it Just a Little Bit

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Your most solid guffaw
Should be against the law

And so should your laughter
But it’s not what I’m after

For it’s something
Most comics can bring

It’s that adorable jiggle
That’s only there when you giggle

Now that is a delightful thing!
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Today at dVerse De Jackson (aka WhimsyGizmo) asks us to have a giggle on this Quadrille Monday – when we write a poem of precisely 44 words, not including the title, and including a given word giggle.

dVerse ~ Poets Pub |  Quadrille #27

What Matters

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Gray Matter:

a) To know what we are doing here.
b) To know what it takes to hear your hoarse cry of what’s mine.
c) To know the touch of your goosebumped flesh so prime.

Pink Matter:

a) The feel in depth of what I’m doing to you there.
b) The sense of heat from your breath against my spine.
c) The copper tang taste on my lips from your bite sublime.

Indigo Matter:

a) We deign to call out the deities to compare.
b) We give envy in the scent of us to those divine.
c) We acknowledge their rhythmic moans as comets come in time.

What Matters?

a) In gray dare.
b) In pink shrine.
c) In indigo chime.

Answer: All of the above, my love.
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At Real Toads we’re asked to use a new form -well new for me- The Multiple Choice poem.
The challenge is simple. Write a poem in the form of a multiple choice test. The whole poem could be a test, or you could insert a multiple choice some where into the normal structure of a poem. Since we’re still in February, I went with that loving feeling (with sincere apologies to the Righteous Brothers).

Imaginary Garden with Real Toads – Out of Standard: Multiple Choice

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dVerse ~Poets Pub | OpenLinkNight #190

 

Three Shots

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Winter in dirty rounds
Left a sour chaser
In this summer soul
El Sol hears
My shaken last call
And responds
Warm rays fall
A tonic that bides me
Straight up until spring

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The kamikaze ball dive
sent a spritzer of
mud and hair of the dog
across the erstwhile neat landscape
of three sheets to the wind
With shaken resolve
Bro and I
face Mama

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Days of straight
getting hammered, plastered

Now after a paint chaser
all proof of the head shot
soused across the wall is gone

Tipsy with exhaustion
only the bloody memory
has me stirred

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Yesterday, De (aka WhimsyGizmo), invited us to mix our muses up a bit by throwing some pub and drinking terms in the blender. But to use the words in ways that have nothing to do with the bar scene, alcohol, or drinking. Being verbose, I went for the tall drink realizing after the fact she wanted shots of no more that 33 words. Being a lush I offer the “three shots” above.

dverse
dVerse Poetics: Muse Mixology

Doing Rounds

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I twist my head slowly
trying to tame
the kamikaze tumbler
of my synapses in hyper drive
Your touch 100% proof
I never had a chance
This round is yours

Still stubborn as a mule
You struggle against the bonds
part shaken by how well
I’ve tied one on
But mostly stirred
And you know I know it
This round mine

As I curl out and then straight up
You straddle my chair neat
I drown my sorrows dirty
hammered against the heat
and wet your whistle with firewater
This last call ours
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De (aka WhimsyGizmo), invites us to mix our muses up a bit by throwing some pub and drinking terms in the blender. But to use the words in ways that have nothing to do with the bar scene, alcohol, or drinking. I think you can guess where I went with this.

dverse
dVerse Poetics: Muse Mixology

The Shame Of It

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Artwork: Shame by Ally Saunders

Artwork: Shame by Ally Saunders

What have I become
My sweetest friend
Everyone I know goes away
In the end
Hurt – Trent Reznor (Nine Inch Nails)

I was darkness and fury
To your light and sun
On a whim I simply snuffed it
It’s a hurt that can’t be undone
I thought I knew what I was doing
To take you for granted and then some
Only to simply walk away
Leaving you as chaff in the wind’s sway
And how the shame of it numbs
What have I become?

With me as predator and you as prey
I shot an arrow through your soul
You had no chance in this farce
There was no means to console
I thought I knew what I was doing
Going for the break, not just the bend
Damn how your body trembled
As your soul disassembled
And how the shame of it wends
My sweetest friend

You were my own soul’s mirror
Shattered in a thousand places
And I felt the pain as my own
In a thousand fractured faces
I thought I knew what I was doing
How I’ve come to rue that day
Seeing the evidence of what I did
I was loathe to leave it hid
And how the shame of it stays
Everyone I know goes away

You never said a word, I know this
But somehow your break struck me to the core
Never one to rage, yet it changed you
And everyone wanted to know the score
I thought I knew what I was doing
Now I am the chaff in the wind
The wounds of my hateful inflections
Forever bared in my reflections
And how the shame of it does rend
In the end

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At dVerse for the first Poetics for 2017, Mish prompts us to reflect on new beginnings as she shares the works of various artists and invites us to “Choose the piece that speaks to you and let the words flow.” For me it was “Shame” by Ally Saunders that got the ol’ muses attention first, for shame of ones actions can bring change and new beginnings to the instigator of such as well.  With “Hurt” by Nine Inch Nails as further inspiration, I use my beloved glosa form.

dVerse ~ Poets Pub | Poetics ~ New Beginnings

real-toads-buton
RealToads – Tuesday Platform

Nobody Knew

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Nobody knew
Those curtains so dark
Hid dirty deeds so stark
The silence is broken

Nobody knew
That which made me strong
Was learned from all your wrong
For no words are spoken

Nobody knew
The sins in midnights past
Have come to roost at last
The silence is broken

Nobody knew
The depth of the danger
Was from kin not stranger
For no words are spoken

Nobody knew
The truths that were shun
Until the cock of the gun
The silence is broken

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At dVerse Victoria prompts us to say it again with the use of repetition.

dVerse ~ Poet Pub | Meeting the Bar – I’ll Say It Again (and Again and Again)

Real Toads: The Tuesday Platform

The Iron Phoenix

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The sky seems more blue, From the bowels of earth

In shades unfathomable, to a world sealed in the night

A fidget enthralled, I’m moved standing still

By this bond twixt light and dark, A phoenix newly rising

In timelessness of twilight, The iron horse travels onward

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Over at Imaginary Gardens With Real Toads, Dreaming with Stacie provided a mini lesson on Poetry, Writing & Metaphor and invites to write a poem based on a specific metaphor.

Many of  my subway travels involve elevated trains (el trains as we like to say), where my train may start at a station below ground, but ends at a station on an elevated platform above the streets.  There is a marked difference in the dark of the tunnels and the dark of night. Even when riding during witching hours, when the train emerges from the tunnel it can feel like a phoenix rising from the ashes, especially in the heat of summer. The duality of the Super Tanka seemed the best form to tell the tale of transition.

real-toads-buton
Imaginary Gardens With Real Toads – on Poetry, Writing & Metaphor  – Dreaming with Stacie

When the Reaper Calls

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It’s a call to depravity, I know it for such
He’s put the voices there and I want it so much
With an angelic façade it’s only me I deceive
He offers a gift, have I the guts to receive?
His susurrus guides me down sacred halls
Can the grim not heed when the Reaper calls?

Unlike the moth I know I’m playing with fire
Letting him taunt the release of my desire
Knowing once set free there’s no re-containing this
And like Judas my fate is sealed with a kiss
Only in Death can I live – no, I do not stall
Can the grim not heed when the Reaper calls?

Releasing all that society has my soul caging
I’m wanton in the hold of my disengaging
And the dark shadows rise from deep in my core
As I take the mantle and Thanatos takes score
My back arcs in the throes of sinful enthrall
Can the grim not heed when the Reaper calls?

His susurrus guides me down sacred halls
Only in Death am I living – no, I do not stall
My back arcs in the throes of sins enthrall
He smiles knowing at last, I realize it all
I the new Keres moan in murderous gall
The grim to his kind Reaper – I heed the call

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Lesser known among the gods of the mythology, Keres a daughter of Nyx, is a sister of the widely known Thanatos. In spite of being colloquially known at the Grim Reaper, Thanatos is actually the god of peaceful death. On the other hand, Keres’ forte is violent death, primarily over a battlefield in search for dying and wounded soldiers.

And Nyx (Night) bare hateful Moros (Doom) and black Ker (Violent Death) and Thanatos (Death)…
— Hesiod, Theogony 211, translated by Hugh G. Evelyn-White

Today at dVerse Victoria prompts us to say it again with the use of repetition.

dVerse ~ Poet Pub | Meeting the Bar – I’ll Say It Again (and Again and Again)

Susurrus

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My whispers
ignored in bright noise
Of noon

Timbre of my susurrus
In your ear heard
Warmth of my breath
On your skin felt

Holds court
Within midnight’s
Solemn depths

Cruel torture of haunting
Knowing I am naught
But a memory
You cannot escape

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At dVerse Whimsygizmo asks us to whisper a quadrille.

dVerse ~ Poets Pub Quadrille #24