I’ve been having the feeling
for so very long
Everything looks so right
Everything feels so wrong
Something just isn’t right
Isn’t what it seems
A part of me wants to laugh
A part of me wants to scream
I’ve been feeling it coming
For such a long while
Trying hard not to cry
While trying hard to smile
Dealing with the moods
As they come and pass
I’ve got the feeling
I’m breaking down at last
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National Poetry Month – Day 25
Just as I thought I had conquered you
Coming out of the clouds of despair
I see you in the distance and I — hunger
In solitary soliloquy
I’m on my knees
I wrap my hands around you
Feeling your firmness
Beneath my fingers
Even as you burn in fluidity
I’m begging more please
With just one step
I took twelve steps back
No waiting to see if tomorrow
I reach the lucidity
To ease my pain
One day at a time begins anew
I put the cap on you once more
And come to accept
With complete humility
I’ve fallen again
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National Poetry Month – Day 24
This frozen-solid heart by choice
Thought ne’er again to see light true
Could not afford another break
By yet another harsh adieu
An abstract thought called you swept in
But moving towards what? Who knew
You burst past any alibis
Now this heart thaws because of you
Ambient warmth
First hard adjust
Now complete must
Because of you
In the sleeping night
Love moved in
All because of you
No it’s not scarlet words spoken in avarice
Nor the cerise heat of the noonday sun
Nor the crimson flame of the winter hearth
Nor the cherry star gleam on a stone
The ruby pyre of Hades pales to compare
To the blaze of my love because of you
Because you aced the test unknowingly given, that
Of all the hurdles thrown before you
You overcame them all with sanguine grace and
I now know that I who had given up on such
Am indeed worthy to love and of being
Loved so completely because of you
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This loving hodge-podge of a form is called a Descort.
Descort is French for “discord”, and the form is almost more of a non-form. It requires that each stanza or verse have some similar lyrical elements; however, that they be totally different forms. Each stanza should be verse, that is, a structured portion of poetry, but not the same. They can conform to known verse structures or be nonce forms. Some descorts have even used different languages in different stanzas.
This descort was created with six different forms, in order: Raccontino, Pathya Vat, La Lune, Not Poem, and a combined Cherita / Word Acrostic. You can click the form name to discover each form’s characteristics.
dVerse ~Poets Pub | Open Link Night: Week 147
National Poetry Month – Day 23
This gal was purdy, but mean at the Forest Green
That’s how the stories spin down at the Forest Green
Mere thoughts of his presence made her shake
With deep chagrin there at the Forest Green
“Send in the clowns! Oh never mind!” She’d yell
When he would walk in at the Forest Green
Yet he somehow opened doors she feared closed
Tightly locked within at the Forest Green
‘Till one day she realized she was just as taken
Just walking in the rain beyond the Forest Green
How he matches her in heart, mind and soul
Frowns turned to grins at the Forest Green
Thus with abandon she now gives her all to him
Aye how the Raivenne sins behind the Forest Green
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Today’s form? A Ghazal.
National Poetry Month – Day 22
Before her a split path is laid
A deep decision to be made
One road only affects her now
The other risks her days and how
Naked she rises and finds voice
Arms open he awaits her choice
Motherhood? Won’t chance that call
Instead down to her knees she falls
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Today at dVerse ~Poets Pub, we’re asked to write about roads, and further challenged to do so “anywhere your eight lined muse leads you”. For some reason Robert Frost popped into my head regarding choosing paths. And while hardly the path less taken my muse, in customary ornery fashion, goes off the beaten one to choose the emotional road instead of a physical one with a take on the modern joke regarding a female’s choices in the moment. And just in case it still eludes some, the title of the poem is the medical term for swallowing.
Yeah, I know, I wonder about my muse sometimes as well…
National Poetry Month – Day 21
I’ve always come out the best
Except the carefree day
I gave my heart away
To he who put it to the test
For no other reason I could see
Than my pain kept his company
But my soul’s joy shall not be wrest
It would not allow this
Theft of my complete bliss `
One thing I can attest
Even through heartache’s burn
There are lessons to learn
I learned to return the jest
That was made of my heart
Put back the pieces torn apart
And to walk away blessed
To know a peace so real
That no one can steal
Now his heart feels the unrest
While I do feel for his soul
He must find his own console
And again I come out the best
With joy my intact
Never looking back
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National Poetry Month – Day 20
Blues, reds and oranges imbue
Semi-dark, yet semi-light skies
Trying to make sense of the deep hues
As I wake with slowly opening eyes
Is it dusk or is it dawn now? For the moment I wonder
Here in this cabin far away from the City
I have naught around that can give a clue
Nature surrounds and its sounds are pretty
But not enough for me to put a time frame to
Laying there in the summer warmth I let my mind wander
Does it really matter I think with the mildest chagrin
As I feel your touch in the not yet day-not yet night
And just like that sparking an emerging fire within
Time no longer a concern in the stillness of twilight
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National Poetry Month – Day 18
I’ve been accused of being hasty
Full of mischief
I don’t act my age
And just what would my maturity be
Were there no markers to presume me sage?
And since when does sage mean stoic?
Or static? Or standard? Or stunted? Or still?
If my entire youth was lived being the rebel
Why shouldn’t my later years
Hold the same will?
I share a bond with Luna
My spirit justly named
Come mess with me
Try to lead me astray
If by chance you think I’m tamed
Simply because my sea of ebon locks
Is pierced with a few opaque silver strands
I’ll blow smoke circles while we match martinis
’Cuz come the morning
It will be me who still stands
An Ample Beauty in all my glory
A modern Venus rising from the foam
Luna shines her light upon me
As I add new tales
To her ancient tomes
I’m vivaciously living to my fullest
So when I close my eyes at last
It won’t be with tears for what wasn’t done
But with a jocund wink
To my past
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National Poetry Month – Day 17
We’ve been together for years
Yet I hold her so close
As though each time
May be the last time
She’s in within my grasp
My calloused fingers
Stroke her neck
Run up her curves
Down her contours
As she lays across me
Ever my lover
She has in turns
Destroyed my heart
And saved my soul
She knows I am hers
Not my woman
With each caress
She wails and moans
At my command
Dark night or bright day
I share her always
Yet the moment I touch her
It is just she and I
On stage alone
In tuned only to each other
A man and his guitar
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Try this he says holding out the glass
And I’m thinking to myself No, I will pass
But his eyes hold a look, a certain teasing dare
And I’ve never been able to resist the challenge there
Holding it to my nose I could smell the sweetness
Something not quite bold and yet without meekness
You like? He smiles after a moment’s space
Already knowing the answer by the look of my face
My first cruise ever, our first true vacation
Had a rocky start, on but later the elation
So many new sights, new joys, new bliss
And now we are introduced to this
A couple of bottles of rum bought on a simple whim
But we sipped from afternoon, until light grew dim
The next day more bottles were bought to roam
And then bought more to take it home
Here I sit reminiscing on that September
I take a slow sip and fondly remember
How this taste first came to be in my days
And the bittersweet hold in which it now stays
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Reminiscing on my very first cruise and a specific brand of spiced rum that can only be purchased in the Bahamas as the company does not export.
National Poetry Month – Day 15
Raivenne-lations 