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Saturday, April 30, 2011

Day Thirty - Farewell...

The final day of NaPoWriMo. The prompt today was to choose a line from one of the authors that participated and use it as an inspiration. But there were just too many to choose from - so I did the free-style once again.

I would like to thank all the prompters. I wish I could have used them all, but my mind has been predominantly elsewhere this month. Hopefully  next year I can write some happier material.

Congrats to all the participants! We did a hell of a job!





Fairy Tales

I need to love you
to keep my sanity
  (what little I have left).
These emotions seemed like
   a fairy tale
that would never have
a happy ending.
I've heard this story only once before,
   and never thought I'd hear it again.
But when I saw you
I heard the words
   "Once upon a time...."
My heartbeat quickened
and then the emotions
that I thought were buried
resurfaced.
It's a different place
and a different time,
but this fairy tale too,
is destined for
  an unhappy ending

©2011

Friday, April 29, 2011

Day Twenty-nine - Free falling...

No planning, no pre-writing - just go...






Good-bye baby butterfly
flutter to the clouds
flutter on home

be at peace
and know that we
love you
more than the world
more than ourselves

Good-bye baby butterfly
time was brief
not even known

the pain will heal
but never leave
and we'll always
have you with us
and see you
in each others eyes

Good-bye baby butterfly
flutter to the clouds
flutter on home


©2011

Thursday, April 28, 2011

Day Twenty-eight - Jordan

No prompt.



I never knew you were there
just a ghost in my thoughts
and yet you were real
and then you were gone.
now a ghost in my heart
and a hole in my soul;
pain to last a lifetime,
like the loss of the love
that was once your legacy.
a fleeting presence,
you were both a gift
and my punishment.
proof that I had a love
that was, for a moment, true
and then taken from me
like you were, without a sound,
without a notion,
without a clue.
daily, I will relive
the heartache.
daily, I will mourn
and cry in pain
to the gods
wondering why I’m still here
to deal with all
you’ve left behind.
like the loss of the love
that was once your legacy
you are mine to mourn
to miss
to regret



©2011

Pimping out the Seasons...

Well, one anyway....Sommer (Marsden that is). I'll be back later with my day 28 contribution for NaPoWriMo.

(pimped out with gleeful permission)


"Have you ever been in love, Aurelia? For real?”

I stared at him, my heart feeling too small. Like it might fall all the way through my body to my feet.

“What do you mean?”

How fucking stupid of a question was that?

“Like your palms sweat and your upper lip feels tingly and your stomach churns so much you can’t tell if it’s good or bad. You’re more concerned for him at times than yourself. You think about him, dream about him, want to touch him randomly. Just to touch him. Like…if he hurts you, you can still forgive him, even if you wouldn’t forgive anyone else in the world. Like there’s not enough air when he’s not around. And sometimes when he is.”

He rattled it all off and my mouth got dryer and dryer and dryer. I thought of Jackson and my affection for him, but how easy it was for me to hurt him repeatedly to give myself solace. The other boyfriends who I promptly turned from when things got too sticky, too intense or they seemed to feel too much for me. Even the one guy—Chad— I was sure I had loved once upon a time at the beginning of college who I simply dumped one day and had never looked back.

He’d told me he loved me. I’d broken up with him and had never taken another of his calls. Woulnd't come to the door when he visited.

Johnny was waiting. I could feel him watching me as I remembered giving up the pain about Fallon--just letting it go. Chalking it up to his pain being expressed. His fear guiding him. I thought about hurting for him when he’d told me about his son. His loss. His rage at himself. I thought about all of it and how when he touched me it was like a fine mesh of electricity settling over my skin— an invisible net. Or how when he looked at me a certain way I wanted to open my mouth and say things I swore I never would.

Or how there never seemed to be enough god damned air when he was around. And even less when he wasn’t. I shook my head, bit my lip and echoed LL, “Nah. I don’t think so.”



Like what you've read? Head over to Unapologetic Fiction - Wanderlust and follow Really & Johnny's adventures from the beginning. Sommer Marsden is brilliant!

PS - have an answer for Johnny? Post it here - I'll pass it on to Sommer. I'll start - I have. And had my heart and soul ripped out because of it.

Wednesday, April 27, 2011

Day Twenty-Seven ... a red bicycle

We have visual prompts today over at Not Without Poetry. Given the choice by Shanna Germain between two, I chose the one below.


Using one of the photos above or below, write a ‘still-life’ poem. The goal is to recreate the image(s) with your own filter while still keeping some of the essence of the original. It’s a good time to think about objects and what significance they have on their own versus the significance that is given to them by the viewer/artist/poet.

Ok, so I didn't quite do it the way the prompt wanted, but hey! It's poetry right?

Untitled

packing up the boxes
reliving old memories
the bicycle remains
leaning under my
bedroom window
a reminder of loss;
of a starry night,
a picnic blanket,
soft kisses
and the taking of my pride
and my innocence.

it can stay here.
with the sights,
smells,
and recollections
of that summer night;
the haunting sighs,
the murmured words,
the hesitant touches,
and the heartbreak
of the non-existant goodbye,
when you drove off the next morning,
escaped this town,
without a word,
one arm slung carelessly around
Carrie-Ann Thompson,
and the other steering your
restored 57 Chevy.

it can stay here
with the many tears I shed
and the many nights I cried.
it can stay here
with the remembrance of your
Mother’s screams mirroring
the wail of the siren
as the police informed her
of the wreck
just two days later.

it can stay here
with the regret that I couldn’t stop you
with the relief I wasn’t with you
and with the guilt
for feeling that relief.

it can stay here
as a reminder
you can’t escape
the small town.

but I’m going to try.



©2011

Tuesday, April 26, 2011

Day Twenty-six - The Sound of Silence

Ok, used the prompt for the most part on this one, but instead of writing about what I saw, I wrote about what I felt.
Here's the prompt:

Turn off the noise. Go to a window. Write what you see, feel and/or want in a stream-of-consciousness form.






The silence in here
Is the loudest I’ve ever heard
The absence of your baritone
The loss of your laugh
The desertion of your quiet anger

The walls are bare of colour
Despite your paintings still hanging
The flowers all died
In your wake

There’s no more music
Floating in the air
The stereo remains mute
A silent homage to your favourite pastime

Your precious vinyl
collects more dust than before
now that no one drags it out
in a weekly drunken laughter
to play a song
to piss off mom.

The tangled wires remain
A puzzled mess
She cannot hear the notes
She cannot absorb the lyrics
They all sing of her loss
And she is better off
With them remaining in memory

It all plays together
In my heart,
I cannot shut it down,
Though it’s out of tune.
And I gaze at the room
Knowing nothing is ever
Going to sound right

The silence in this house
Is the loudest
I’ve ever heard.




©2011

Image found at The Change Blog

Monday, April 25, 2011

Day Twenty-five : Meme, meme, meme, meme...

Today's prompt? (WOW - two this week huh? Yeah, kind of surprised me too).

Find an internet meme of some sort. Either one you’ve participated in or one that is new to you. Once you find one that inspires you — yes, you have to leave the internets now and come back to poetry — use the language (lolspeak anyone?), the topic or even the general idea of viral transmissions to create a poem.

While I wanted to choose an LOL Catz or something along those lines, I just took the idea of the first "meme" I ever did - choose a friends name and write a line poem based on the letters.

The name repeats twice, as it seemed to call for it.





Can you tell?
Listen to your heart
You know the answer
Do I know it?
Exactly what I thought
Be strong I tell myself
All of her is you
Kissing through the day
Entering the night
Replying to her heart


Can I tell you?
Listen to my heart
You'll never know otherwise
Do you understand?
Exceptions to every rule
Be strong I tell myself
All of you is her too
Keeping this secret
Entering your heart
Replying to myself

©2011
image found at HeartBeat Symptoms

Sunday, April 24, 2011

Day Twenty-four - Easter tears...

Sigh - Day 24. Forgive the sadness of the last few - first major holiday without my father, and it's tough to think, let alone get out the feelings....not the greatest, but it's something.




Pride

your voice echoes in my heart
your smile haunts my every step
your eyes follow my every move
your presence lingers in every room

your strength still inspires
your heart beats in mine
the head of our existance
the leader of the pack

what do we do
where do we go
we are lost without
your guidance
and wisdom

i watch your image run
away into the setting sun
realizing
we never did say good-bye


©2011


Saturday, April 23, 2011

Day Twenty-Three - Blank...

Day 23. Lack of inspiration provided this...





Here I sit
pen in hand
but nothing
comes to mind

I cannot scribble
a single word
or even really
make a rhyme

There's poetry running
through my heart;
it runs right through
my veins

and yet when the time comes
to write it down
the page is still blank
the emptiness remains



This is a problem.



©2011

Image found at http://www.servitokss.com/question-marks/

Friday, April 22, 2011

Day Twenty-two - Recycling


Ok, so the prompt for this day was reuse and recycle – for Earth Day. Here’s what we were given.

Today is Earth Day! Explore our complicated relationship to Mama Earth by recycling. Find an old poem or two that you’ve abandoned and find a line, a title or a concept that really grabs you. Now use those to start a new poem, going in a direction entirely different than the original

So here we go. This is an old poem I wrote about fifteen years ago – if not longer. I’m hoping that the recycled version turns out better than the original.




 Believe

All the love in your heart,
all the trust in your soul.
Everything in your life,
you gave to her.

Expecting to have it returned,
as lovers often do,
you died a little every day,
as she abused your gift,
deception at every turn,
lies falling from the lips
that whispered once of love and hope.

The eyes that had read bright with
adoration, and acceptance,
turned hard and cold,
denying you the warmth of their gaze,
the light of her love.

The arms crossed as she turned
not to your chest, containing your
beating heart,
but to the arms and heart of another.

Today, the arms and heart of another
are waiting right here
for you to turn and accept them.

I believe in your gifts,
I believe in  your love.
I believe in the future,
with me by your side.
All that you gave to her,
I will not abuse,
I will not fail you.

I believe in you,
and all your precious gifts.
Give me the chance to prove
that you can believe in mine.

©2011 (orig. 1995)

Image found at Spirit and Sky

Thursday, April 21, 2011

Day Twenty-One...Oh Daddy

So far behind on posting these - long weekends with family make it tough to get to a computer. But here is day 21's offering - dad's been on my mind a lot this last few days.



you sang to me
in soft tones
of rainbow's ends
and pots of gold.

held me in rapture
and enraptured
your angel,
your smile,
your hearts desire.

you loved me with words,
loved me in actions,
and then in none.

now it's my turn
to sing to you
in soft tones,
of angel's wings
and heavenly days,

loving you in memory,
until the day
we meet again,
once more
at the rainbow's end.



©2011